51
	           And Talk.
take upon his solicitation.     In the course of the
afternoon he drove me to Paris, in his wagon;
where I procured my baggage, and he made
sundry calls, principally about hunting up a debt,
transferred to him by John Conworth, who
pul putting out to loan the money that George had
lent him when he first came hither, had dis-
charged it by giving him the trouble of collecting
what was due on the note; he, Conworth having
sacked eight percent interest.x       George�s talk
was universally decendental about the people around,
he had a score of stories to tell, of their meanness,
love of money and miserable ways of living; inso-
much that I felt depressed, chafed and irrita-
ted.      Time has wrought its inevitable effect 
in the matter of reconciling him to his wife�s
death; he works hard afield; is, I think, even
more taciturn than of yore (though God knows
that was bad enough), and preserves unchanged those
family characteristics which I have always re-
garded with equal repugnance and depression.
I feel a great deal of sympathy and good will
towards him; I hope I am considerate of his
recent loss, but this first day�s experience was
emphatically a damper.  For, on our return he
took me to a the house of a friend of his, one Ba-
ker, a good fellow enough, no doubt, but who,
	x So George said.