“My dear Sir,—I wrote a few
hasty lines to you just now, before we entered the vessel, and after hurrying
myself out of breath—for as I do not like exaggerated phrases, I would not say
to death—the awkward pilot ran us aground, so here we are in an empty house;
and with the heart and imagination on the wing, you may suppose that the slow
march of time is felt very painfully. I seem to be counting the ticking of a
clock, and there is no clock here. For these few days I have been busy
preparing, now all is done, and we cannot go. If you were to pop in I should be
glad, for in spite of my impatience to see a friend who deserves all
tenderness, I still have a corner in my heart, where I will allow you a place,
if you have no objection. It would give me sincere pleasure to meet you at any
future period, and to be introduced to your wife. Pray take care of yourself,
and when you arrive let me hear from you. Direct to me at Mr Johnson’s, St Paul’s
Churchyard, London, and wherever I may be the letter will not fail to
| 222 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
