ten has put away money, invested in stocks.   I
hope too, with all my heart, the man will keep his
berth, for his wife�s sake.       I don�t dislike the gram-
pus, except when he snorts with peculiar blatancy,
antagonizing all sense and good nature.         So, Peace
be with him!       Thus endeth the Eleventh volume
of my Diarization.          If I keep on ��am spared�
as the righteous say, as though the Almight was
constantly on the look out to kill them! � it will
grow into a Library.
  Sometimes I have considerable qualms about
it.    There�s a passage in Lockhart�s Scott, con
demnatory of such work.  But I have no fine
old Sir Walten to sketch in deshabille � only such
folk as one meets every day in the world.     Well
God help all of us!
  ������ Then, to be sure, I can destroy these
scribblings any day I like.        Somehow, though I
must cut a very poor figure in them in many
places, I don�t like the thought of it.   They seem
a part of my existence.      So much of my life
put into them!
  I�m sure that the only true mode of biography
is Boswellizing.    Poor Boswell!   The world is 
damnably ungrateful in laughing at him.
			/