I have travelled all across the country with my family, to see my father, now eighty-two years of age. I wish, at such an age, you, and all like you, may have as much enjoyment of life; more, you can hardly have at any age. My father is one of the very few people I have ever seen improved by age. He is become careless, indulgent, and anacreontic.
I shall proceed to write a review of Scarlett’s Poor Bill, and of Keppel Craven’s Tour, according to the license you granted me; not for the number about to come, but for the number after that. The review of the first will be very short, and that of the second not long. Length, indeed, is not what you have to accuse me of. The above-mentioned articles, with perhaps Wilks’s Sufferings of the Protestants in the South of France, and the Life of Suard, will constitute my contribution for the number after the next (i.e. the 71st).
The wretchedness of the poor in this part of the country is very afflicting. The men are working for one shilling per day, all the year round; and if a man have only three children, he receives no relief from the parish, so that five human beings are supported for
218 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
Do me the favour to remember me to all my friends, and to number amongst those who are sincerely and affectionately attached to you,
I beg my kind regards to Mrs. Jeffrey, and to the little tyrant who rules the family.