The last letter you wrote, was received at a moment that I could not properly attend to it. I am extremely obliged by the real solicitude you have shown on the occasion—nor has it been entirely useless. I have had that proof returned and made two or three additional touches, besides retaining the rejected note of the Edinburgh Review which I like well. You are probably too deeply engaged in serious business at the present moment, to attend to such Nugæ and flim-flams as the world are on the point of being illuminated by.
However, I write this, to give you some hopes. I confided the three sheets printed to two friends, and I have
every reason to believe I succeed to the best of my wishes. One writes me, that
it will “provoke perpetual laughter and
| 44 | MEMOIRS OF JOHN MURRAY |
As I have written an account of the death of the author—who dies with laughter—whom nothing can revive but the galvanic science of Professor Murray, I must consult you on this before it is printed. I mention that I prefer you to Professor Davy, because by many patient experiments you, to my knowledge, have more than once restored a dead author to life!
There was no avoiding Clarke’s* knowing I was the author, nor the printer. In the present case we must trust to their honour, for, as Mark Antony says—“They are all honourable men!”
Mrs. D’I. is most sensible to your enquiries and has taken it into her profound views that you have gone off† to be married! and though I speak so much in favour of your wisdom, still she thinks it will so end.
