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.