I have no reason, thank heaven, to anticipate.

Yours affectionately,

S. T. Coleridge."


In consequence of Mr. Coleridge's journey to the north, to collect
subscribers for the "Watchman," an incident occurred, which produced a
considerable effect on his after life. During Mr. C.'s visit to
Birmingham, an accident had introduced him to the eldest son of Mr.
Lloyd, the eminent banker of that town. Mr. Lloyd had intended his son
Charles to unite with him in the bank, but the monotonous business of the
establishment, ill accorded with the young man's taste, which had taken a
decidedly literary turn. If the object of Charles Lloyd had been to
accumulate wealth, his disposition might have been gratified to the
utmost, but the tedious and unintellectual occupation of adjusting
pounds, shillings, and pence, suited, he thought, those alone who had
never, eagle-like, gazed at the sun, or bathed their temples in the dews
of Parnassus. The feelings of this young man were ardent; his reading and
information extensive; and his genius, though of a peculiar cast,
considerable. His mind appeared, however, subject to something of that
morbid sensibility which distinguished Cowper. The admiration excited in
Mr. L. by Mr. Coleridge's pre-eminent talents, induced him to relinquish
his connexion with the bank; and he had now arrived in Bristol to seek
Mr. C. out, and to improve his acquaintance with him.

To enjoy the enviable privilege of Mr. Coleridge's conversation, Mr.
Lloyd proposed even to domesticate with him; and made him such a
pecuniary offer, that Mr. C. immediately acceded to the proposal; and to