October, 1794.

"I was really happy to receive your letter. Your silence gave me no
small degree of uneasiness, and I began to think some demon had broken
the links of that chain which I trust has united us in friendship for
ever. Life is such a scene of trouble and disappointment that the
sensible mind can ill endure the loss of any consolation that renders it
supportable. How, then, can it be possible that we should resign,
without a severe pang, the first of all human blessings, the friend we
love? Never give me reason again, I conjure you, to suppose you have
wholly forgot me.

"Now I will impart to you a secret, which must not be revealed. I think
that before the 10th of December next I shall quit England for ever. My
dear and valuable brother, who is now in Lancashire, wishes to persuade
me, and the unkindness of the world tends not a little to forward his
hopes. I have no relations in England except my darling girl, and, I
fear, few friends. Yet, my dear Juan, I shall feel a very severe
struggle in quitting those paths of fancy I have been childish enough to
admire,--false prospects. They have led me into the vain expectation
that fame would attend my labours, and my country be my pride. How have
I been treated? I need only refer you to the critiques of last month,
and you will acquit me of unreasonable instability. When I leave
England,--adieu to the muse for ever,--I will never publish another line
while I exist, and even those manuscripts now finished I will destroy.

"Perhaps this will be no loss to the world, yet I may regret the many
fruitless hours I have employed to furnish occasions for malevolence and
persecution.