Here is another "growl," provoked by a species of charlatan, which
he, to whom all charlatans were odious, especially abominated--the
pietistic charlatan:--

* * * * *

"Oh, we have such a specimen here! a man who discourses
extemporaneously, positively without the power of constructing one
grammatical sentence; but who is (ungrammatically) deep in Heaven's
confidence on the abstrusest points, and discloses some of his private
information with an idiotic complacency insupportable to behold.

"We are going to have a bad winter in England too probably. What with
Ireland, and what with the last new Government device of getting in
the taxes before they are due, and what with vagrants, and what with
fever, the prospect is gloomy."

The last letter I ever received from him is dated the 10th of
November, 1869. It is a long letter, but I will give only one passage
from it, which has, alas! a peculiarly sad and touching significance
when read with the remembrance of the catastrophe then hurrying on,
which was to put an end to all projects and purposes. I had been
suggesting a walking excursion across the Alps. He writes:--

"Walk across the Alps? Lord bless you, I am 'going' to take up my
alpenstock and cross all the passes. And, I am 'going' to Italy. I am
also 'going' up the Nile to the second cataract; and I am 'going' to
Jerusalem, and to India, and likewise to Australia. My only dimness
of perception in this wise is, that I don't know _when_. If I did but