in deposit:  one person can speak to his motives; another knows his fortune better than himself; to others he commits the sentimental parts of his defence; to Mr. Larkins he commits his memory.  We shall see what a trustee of memory Mr. Larkins is, and how far he answers the purpose which might be expected, when appealed to by a man who has no memory himself, or who has left it on the other side of the water, and who leaves it to another to explain for him accounts which he ought to have kept himself, and circumstances which ought to be deposited in his own memory.

This Cheltenham letter, I believe, originally became known, as far as I can recollect, to the House of Commons, upon a motion of Mr. Hastings’s own agent:  I do not like to be positive upon that point, but I think that was the first appearance of it.  It appeared likewise in public:  for it was thought so extraordinary and laborious a performance, by the writer or his friends, (as indeed it is,) that it might serve to open a new source of eloquence in the kingdom, and consequently was printed, I believe, at the desire of the parties themselves.  But however it became known, it raised an extreme curiosity in the public to hear, when Mr. Hastings could say nothing, after so many years, of his own concerns and his own affairs, what satisfaction Mr. Larkins at last would give concerning them.  This letter was directed to Mr. Devaynes, Chairman of the Court of Directors.  It does not appear that the Court of Directors wrote anything to India in consequence of it, or that they directed this satisfactory account of the business should be given them; but some private communications passed between Mr. Hastings, or his agents, and Mr. Larkins.  There was a general expectation upon this occasion, I believe, in the House of Commons and in the nation at large, to know what would become of the portentous inquiry.  Mr. Hastings has always contrived to have half the globe between question and answer:  when he was in India, the question went to him, and then he adjourned his answer till he came to England; and when he came to England, it was necessary his answer should arrive from India; so that there is no manner of doubt that all time was given for digesting, comparing, collating, and making up a perfect memory upon the occasion.

But, my Lords, Mr. Larkins, who has in custody Mr. Hastings’s memory, no small part of his conscience, and all his accounts, did, at last, in compliance with Mr. Hastings’s desire, think proper to send an account.  Then, at last, we may expect light.  Where are we to look for accounts, but from an accountant-general?  Where are they to be met with, unless from him?  And accordingly, in that night of perplexity into which Mr. Hastings’s correspondence had plunged them, men looked up to the dawning of the day which was to follow that star, the little Lucifer, which with his lamp was to dispel the shades of night, and give us some sort of light into this dark, mysterious transaction.  At last the little lamp appeared, and was laid on the table of this House of Commons, on the motion of Mr. Hastings’s friends:  for we did not know of its arrival.  It arrives, with all the intelligence, all the memory, accuracy, and clearness which Mr. Larkins can furnish for Mr. Hastings upon a business that before was nothing but mystery and confusion.  The account is called,—­