At all events, come down, Cottle, as soon as you can, but before midsummer, and we will procure a horse easy as thy own soul, and we will go on a roam to Lynton and Lynmouth, which, if thou comest in May, will be in all their pride of woods and waterfalls, not to speak of its august cliffs, and the green ocean, and the vast valley of stones, all which live disdainful of the seasons, or accept new honours only from the winter’s snow.  At all events come down, and cease not to believe me much and affectionately your friend.

TO JOSIAH WADE

A public example

Bristol, 26 June, 1814.

DEAR SIR,

For I am unworthy to call any good man friend—­much less you, whose hospitality and love I have abused; accept, however, my entreaties for your forgiveness, and for your prayers.

Conceive a poor miserable wretch, who for many years has been attempting to beat off pain, by a constant recurrence to the vice that reproduces it.  Conceive a spirit in hell, employed in tracing out for others the road to that heaven, from which his crimes exclude him!  In short, conceive whatever is most wretched, helpless, and hopeless, and you will form as tolerable a notion of my state, as it is possible for a good man to have.

I used to think the text in St. James that ’he who offendeth in one point, offends in all,’ very harsh; but I now feel the awful, the tremendous truth of it.  In the one crime of OPIUM, what crime have I not made myself guilty of!  Ingratitude to my Maker! and to my benefactors—­injustice! and unnatural cruelty to my poor children! —­self-contempt for my repeated promise-breach, nay, too often, actual falsehood!

After my death, I earnestly entreat that a full and unqualified narration of my wretchedness, and of its guilty cause, may be made public, that, at least, some little good may be effected by the direful example!

May God Almighty bless you, and have mercy on your still affectionate, and, in his heart, grateful

S.T.C.

TO THOMAS ALLSOP

Himself and his detractors

2 Dec. 1818.

MY DEAR SIR,

I cannot express how kind I felt your letter.  Would to Heaven I had had many with feelings like yours, ’accustomed to express themselves warmly and (as far as the word is applicable to you), even enthusiastically’.  But alas! during the prime manhood of my intellect I had nothing but cold water thrown on my efforts.  I speak not now of my systematic and most unprovoked maligners.  On them I have retorted only by pity and by prayer.  These may have, and doubtless have, joined with the frivolity of ‘the reading public’ in checking and almost in preventing the sale of my works; and so far have done injury to my purse. Me they have not injured.  But I have loved with