About the second week in December, just at the time when all men were watching with bated breath the drawing near of the dark shadow at Sandringham, my task was done. I was grieved to leave the lovely country; the host of friends, an exceeding great army that had sprung up from the dry bones of Returns; and especially my chief and his family. He must have found me an all but intolerable nuisance, for I was very green, and very unofficial in disposition: but he had never reproached me, or hindered my steps. I was a little sorry, too, to leave the work in so crude a state. The plans were finished, but the execution was hardly begun. There is a fine line, which one is surprised to trace to the _Rejected Addresses_, because it ought to be in Shakespeare: “And deems nought done, while ought remains to do.”[10] And that was my lamentable case. Let me add, too, that I was grieved to lose my pay. There were no such almug trees in the Inner Temple. But I sent in my last batch of Reports, and my resignation. In those times of official inexperience I supposed that I should receive a polite reply, regretting, &c., and trusting, &c., and especially commenting on the fact that I had finished my work so soon. When Clive was “amazed at his own moderation,” it was, doubtless, a shock to him to find that no one shared his amazement. The only reply that I received was a formal acknowledgment of the receipt of my communication. It was not their Lordships’ way to be effusive. More than 30 years later, one of my staff, who was resigning after 35 years’ service, told me that he had not received even a postcard, unstamped, On His Majesty’s Service, to thank him, and bid him farewell. It is recorded of Lord Chancellor Thurlow that one summer afternoon on the last day of term before the Long Vacation the Bar rose from their seats, and bowed with expectancy when the Chancellor had risen. It was usual that his Lordship should say something: but he was mute; and a leader remarked, in an audible aside, “He might have d----d us, anyhow.” Being unemployed I returned to the Bar. My practice had not suffered by my absence: no solicitors had felt any inconvenience; and my briefless brethren showed no displeasure at my return to compete with them. One remarked that he thought he hadn’t seen me about lately; and I was pleased to find that my eight months’ absence had attracted so much attention. There is no part of Anglesey so repulsive to the well-regulated mind as is Fleet Street in the City of London. There is nothing in the work of an Elementary School so dull as the proceedings in the Law Courts. And on going the usual rounds to attend Sessions and Assizes I found that the necessity of paying one’s own travelling expenses, instead of charging them to the Treasury, was a distinct falling off.