This speculation turned out a bitter disappointment. I trusted to the promise of a relative to lend me some money, making, with what I possessed, sufficient for the undertaking. But he was himself disappointed of the money, and I clearly foresaw that an insufficient capital would infallibly cramp me in such a manner as to render all my efforts very uncomfortable and perhaps vain. I determined to make a short cut and get rid of it immediately, which I did at the end of six months at no further loss than of 100_l._ This was a lesson of some use to me at subsequent periods of my life, and taught me early to distinguish between certainty and probabilities. _Arthur Young to his Wife_ ‘Tuesday: 1767.[38] ‘My Dearest,—I am much in hopes I shall have a letter from you to-morrow; if I have not it will be a great disappointment; for when you don’t write in huffs your letters are my only comfort. I went to Yeldham’s this morning, but he, according to custom, was out, and will not be home of some days; it will be Saturday before I can see him. How this terrible affair will end I cannot conjecture, nor what I am to do. The most miserable circumstance of all is the being in such suspense and anxiety. It absolutely stupefies me, and I am forced to pin myself down to writing without the soul for anything but mere copying. I would give my right hand that I had never seen this place, but such reflections only make one the more miserable; and the thoughts at the same time of what you feel with a young child to suckle hurt me more than I can express in a word; we shall both be capitally miserable till we are fixed somewhere on a certainty, and when that will be Heaven knows. I had infinitely rather live in a cottage upon bread and cheese than drag on the anxious existence I do at present. Whichever way I turn my thoughts I see no remedy, nor know who can advise me what step to take. I know not which is best myself, I am sure, for everyone depends so on contingencies that sagacity itself cannot foresee the consequences of all. An ill star rose on my nativity; had I never been born it would have been just so much the better for me, for you, and our wretched children. If anybody was to knock me on the head it would be a trifling favour done to you all three, for most assuredly no good will ever come from my hands. ‘Adieu! I have scribbled out the paper to but little purpose. ‘A. Y.’ The gentleman who assisted me in getting rid of this nuisance was a Mr. Yeldham. I am sure the reader will peruse with gratification the following letter (given in part):— ‘Saling: Dec. 10, 1768.