—And I came to it on my knees—to this world—crouching, cringing, begging! Oh, oh!—I scream it—Oh!
—And after that I sank down by the bed and hid my face and sobbed: “Oh, Shelley! Oh, my Shelley!”
December 3d.
—I saw myself a business man to-day, clearing a path for myself! But it does not last—I am not that kind of a man. My folly is my being—rest assured that I shall climb back to the heights again where I am willing to bear any insult.
But it will be a long time before I write any more letters. I have come to understand the world's point of view.
I suppose busy men get thousands of letters from cranks; they will get no more from me.