I will wait on you, my ever valued friend, but whether in the morning I am not sure. Sunday closes a period of our curst revenue business, and may probably keep me employed with my pen until noon. Fine employment for a poet's pen! There is a species of human genus that I call _the gin-horse class_: what enviable dogs they are! Round, and round, and round they go,--Mundell's ox, that drives his cotton mill, is their exact prototype--without an idea or wish beyond their circle; fat, sleek, stupid, patient, quiet, and contented; while here I sit, altogether Novemberish, a damn'd melange of fretfulness and melancholy; not enough of the one to rouse me to passion, nor of the other to repose me in torpor; my soul flouncing and fluttering round her tenement, like a wild finch, caught amid the horrors of winter, and newly thrust into a cage. Well, I am persuaded that it was of me the Hebrew sage prophesied, when he foretold-- "And behold, on whatsoever this man doth set his heart, it shall not prosper!" If my resentment is awaked, it is sure to be where it dare not squeak; and if--.... Pray that wisdom and bliss be more frequent visitors of R. B. * * * * * CLXXXIX.--To MRS. RIDDEL. I have often told you, my dear friend, that you had a spice of caprice in your composition, and you have as often disavowed it; even perhaps while your opinions were, at the moment, irrefragably proving it. Could any thing estrange me from a friend such as you?--No! To-morrow I shall have the honour of waiting on you. Farewell, thou first of friends, and most accomplished of women I even with all thy little caprices! R B. * * * * * CXC.--To MRS. RIDDEL. Madam,--I return your commonplace book. I have perused it with much pleasure, and would have continued my criticisms, but as it seems the critic has forfeited your esteem, his strictures must lose their value. If it is true that "offences come only from the heart," before you I am guiltless. To admire, esteem, and prize you as the most accomplished of women, and the first of friends--if these are crimes, I am the most offending thing alive. In a face where I used to meet the kind complacency of friendly confidence, _now_ to find cold neglect and contemptuous scorn--is a wrench that my heart can ill bear. It is, however, some kind of miserable good luck, that while _de-haut-en-bas_ rigour may depress an unoffending wretch to the ground, it has a tendency to rouse a stubborn something in his bosom, which, though it cannot heal the wounds of his soul, is at least an opiate to blunt their poignancy. With the profoundest respect for your abilities, the most sincere esteem and ardent regard for your gentle heart and amiable manners, and the most fervent wish and prayer for your welfare, peace, and bliss, I have the honour to be, Madam, your most devoted humble servant. R. B. * * * * * CXCI.--TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.