What the devil had I to do with scribbling? It is too late to inquire, and all regret is useless. But, an it were to do again,—I should write again, I suppose. Such is human nature, at least my share of it;—though I shall think better of myself, if I have sense to stop now. If I have a wife, and that wife has a son—by any body—I will bring up mine heir in the most anti-poetical way—make him a lawyer, or a pirate, or—any thing. But, if he writes too, I shall be sure he is none of mine, and cut him off with a Bank token. Must write a letter—three o'clock.


[Footnote 1:]

Disraeli's

Curiosities of Literature

, 2 vols. (1807);

Calamities of Authors

, 2 vols. (1812); and

Quarrels of Authors

, 3 vols. (1814), appear in the Sale Catalogue.