lowed this discovery to affect his mind, will be seen in a
subsequent letter to Mr. Hodgson.

LETTER 86. TO MR. HODGSON.

"8. St. James's Street, February 16. 1812.

"Dear Hodgson,

"I send you a proof. Last week I was very ill and confined to bed
with stone in the kidney, but I am now quite recovered. If the
stone had got into my heart instead of my kidneys, it would have
been all the better. The women are gone to their relatives, after
many attempts to explain what was already too clear. However, I
have quite recovered _that_ also, and only wonder at my folly in
excepting my own strumpets from the general corruption,--albeit a
two months' weakness is better than ten years. I have one request
to make, which is, never mention a woman again in any letter to me,
or even allude to the existence of the sex. I won't even read a
word of the feminine gender;--it must all be 'propria quae maribus.'

"In the spring of 1813 I shall leave England for ever. Every thing
in my affairs tends to this, and my inclinations and health do not
discourage it. Neither my habits nor constitution are improved by
your customs or your climate. I shall find employment in making
myself a good Oriental scholar. I shall retain a mansion in one of
the fairest islands, and retrace, at intervals, the most
interesting portions of the East. In the mean time, I am adjusting
my concerns, which will (when arranged) leave me with wealth
sufficient even for home, but enough for a principality in Turkey.
At present they are involved, but I hope, by taking some necessary
but unpleasant steps, to clear every thing. Hobhouse is expected
daily in London; we shall be very glad to see him; and, perhaps,
you will come up and 'drink deep ere he depart,' if not, 'Mahomet
must go to the mountain;'--but Cambridge will bring sad
recollections to him, and worse to me, though for very different
reasons. I believe the only human being that ever loved me in truth
and entirely was of, or belonging to, Cambridge, and, in that, no
change can now take place. There is one consolation in death--where
he sets his seal, the impression can neither be melted nor broken,
but endureth for ever.

"Yours always, B."

* * * * *

Among those lesser memorials of his good nature and mindf