took hold upon me. I should now have to be more at home, and
although I might occupy myself with the fowls during the morning and
afternoon, the evening must be spent in company, and I could not
endure for more than half an hour a drawing-room after dinner.
There was another reason for hesitation. I could see the lady would
accept me if I proposed to her, but I was not quite sure why. She
would in all probability survive me, and I fancied that her hope of
survival might be her main reason for consenting. I gave her up,
but no sooner had she left us than I found myself impelled to make
an offer to a handsome girl of eight-and-twenty who I was ass enough
to dream might love me. I was happily saved by an accident not
worth relating, and although I afterwards dwelt much upon the charms
of two or three other ladies and settled with myself I would take
one of them, nothing came of my resolution. I was greatly
distressed by this growing indecision. It began to haunt me. If I
made up my mind to-day that I would do this or that, I always had on
the morrow twenty reasons for not doing it. I was never troubled
with this malady in Eastcheap. I was told that decay in the power
of willing was one of the symptoms of softening of the brain, and
this then was what was really the matter with me! It might last for
years! Wretched creature! my life was to be nothing better than
that of the horse in Bewick's terrible picture. I was 'waiting for
death.'

Part of my income was derived from interest on money lent to a
cousin. Without any warning I had a letter to say that he was
bankrupt, and that his estate would probably not pay eighteenpence
in the pound. It was quite clear that I must economise, and what to
do and whither to go was an insoluble problem to me. By chance I
met an old City acquaintance who told me of a 'good thing' in