enough to marry Hannah! But, oh lord! that
seems horribly distant yet. I think it will come
x x x x x
Ah dear Charles Lamb, � thou who, four years
before I was born, sattest down on the last day of
1820, to pen thy love of life, and of this beautiful
earth, of books and friends, of innocent vanities,
of irony �� as also thy most human
repugnance to the vague hereafter � thou
knowest all about it now! Thou, and those
that loved thee � how they must have loved thee �
have drifted into that solemn bourne to which
we are, also, speeding. It is very sorrowful. It
is very sorrowful.
I cling to this green earth also.
x x x x
And the ghosts of past Old Years rise up
around me, just now. What a crowd of faces.
And one of them I shall recall, at times, until
my dying day. I would to God I could love
Hannah as I did love Mary Bilton. She deserves it
better. x x x x
There�s a wretched ass of a Yankee firing off a
gun or pistol � in celebration of the death of the old
year! The paradise of such people would be where
they could let off fire works to all eternity. May
the Devil give �em enough of them. And so Vale Old Year!