As it is possible that thou mayst have been told that a new novel from my pen, called “The Painter and his Wife,” is in the press, I wish to tell thee this is a falsehood: that my publishers advertised this only begun work, unknown to me, and that I have written to say the said work is not written, nor ever will be. I must own to thee, however, that as several hundreds of it are already ordered by the trade, I have felt the sacrifice, but I do not repent of it.[[25]]
Joseph and Catherine are highly pleased with my new work, on “Lying, in all its branches,” (each sort of lie illustrated by a simple anecdote, or tale,) and they think it must do good. We go on as usual; my dear father I think better on the whole, in body, and, I hope, not gone back in mind. I am at times very low, but there is safety in lowness for some people, and I am one of them. I know a tortoise pace is a safe pace, but still I am dissatisfied with my slow progress. Farewell! dearest Betsy! I remember thy visit with true and grateful pleasure; with kind love to all thy circle,
I am, thy affectionate Friend,
A. Opie.
To Elizabeth Fry, Plashet, Essex.
Dr. Alderson attained the age of four-score, in the spring of this year; and his daughter thus greeted him on the return of his birthday.
TO MY FATHER.
7th April, 1823.
And thou art eighty; ’tis thy natal day!
Then oh! forgive me that I dare to pray