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LETTER FIVE
35

unwilling to do. I tramped about London Christmas Eve for five or six hours to sell some work, but did not then succeed in doing so, nor till the following Thursday, when I could only get about half my price in Birmingham. Things are here so extremely awkward. I tell these things to you merely because I do not feel justified in hiding any portion of the gloomy side of the picture before me from so kind and dear a friend as you have ever proved to me; or if I had another motive for doing so, it is because I shall be able to look upon my distresses with more fortitude when I know there are those, though at a distance, who sympathise with me in them. But believe me, I do not tell you of my misery to make you miserable. Oh no! I hope you will not be more unhappy on my account than if I was living in the most perfect prosperity, though I wish your sympathy in believing I do not deserve all I suffer.

I am glad the dog gets fat and forgetful of his old master. I suppose he would have nothing to do with me now. However, I wish the old beggar a long life, and much of the good things by the way, and an easy death at the end.

I am very thankful for your arrangements respecting the clothes, and Clarinda's thanks to