astonishment B——­, the eldest partner, began a formal harangue to me on the length of my services, my very meritorious conduct during the whole of the time (the deuce, thought I, how did he find out that?  I protest I never had the confidence to think as much).  He went on to descant on the expediency of retiring at a certain time of life (how my heart panted!) and asking me a few questions as to the amount of my own property, of which I have a little, ended with a proposal, to which his three partners nodded a grave assent, that I should accept from the house, which I had served so well, a pension for life to the amount of two-thirds of my accustomed salary—­a magnificent offer!  I do not know what I answered between surprise and gratitude, but it was understood that I accepted their proposal, and I was told that I was free from that hour to leave their service.  I stammered out a bow, and at just ten minutes after eight I went home—­for ever.  This noble benefit—­gratitude forbids me to conceal their names—­I owe to the kindness of the most munificent firm in the world—­the house of Boldero, Merryweather, Bosanquet, and Lacy.

Esto perpetua!

For the first day or two I felt stunned, overwhelmed.  I could only apprehend my felicity; I was too confused to taste it sincerely.  I wandered about, thinking I was happy, and knowing that I was not.  I was in the condition of a prisoner in the old Bastile, suddenly let loose after a forty years’ confinement.  I could scarce trust myself with myself.  It was like passing out of Time into Eternity—­for it is a sort of Eternity for a man to have his Time all to himself.  It seemed to me that I had more time on my hands than I could ever manage.  From a poor man, poor in Time, I was suddenly lifted up into a vast revenue; I could see no end of my possessions; I wanted some steward, or judicious bailiff, to manage my estates in Time for me.  And here let me caution persons grown old in active business, not lightly, nor without weighing their own resources, to forego their customary employment all at once, for there may be danger in it.  I feel it by myself, but I know that my resources are sufficient; and now that those first giddy raptures have subsided, I have a quiet home-feeling of the blessedness of my condition.  I am in no hurry.  Having all holidays, I am as though I had none.  If Time hung heavy upon me, I could walk it away; but I do not walk all day long, as I used to do in those old transient holidays, thirty miles a day, to make the most of them.  If Time were troublesome, I could read it away, but I do not read in that violent measure, with which, having no Time my own but candlelight Time, I used to weary out my head and eyesight in by-gone winters.  I walk, read or scribble (as now) just when the fit seizes me.  I no longer hunt after pleasure; I let it come to me.  I am like the man

  —­That’s born, and has his years come to him,
  In some green desart.