journalists,
collectors of magazines, and writers of abridgments, and, in a prelude
or prolog, openly to declare myself against the public; in this
instance, especially, I do not intend to allow any one's opposition or
reticence to pass.

What do you say, for instance, to Lichtenberg, with whom I have had
some correspondence about the optical subjects we spoke of, and with
whom, besides, I am on pretty good terms, not even mentioning my
essays in his new edition of Erxleben's Compendium, especially as a
new edition of a compendium is surely issued in order to introduce the
latest discoveries, and these gentlemen are usually quick enough in
noting down everything in their interleaved books! How many different
ways there are of dispatching a work like this, even though it were
but done in a passing manner I However, at the present moment, my
cunning brains cannot think of any one of these ways.

I am, at present, very far from being in anything like an esthetic or
sentimental mood, so what is to become of my poor novel? Meanwhile, I
am making use of my time as best I can, and my comfort is that, at so
low an ebb, one may hope that the flood is about to return.

Your dear letter reached me safely, and I thank you for your sympathy,
which I felt sure you would give me. In such cases one hardly knows
what is best to do--to let grief take its natural course or to fortify
oneself with the assistance which culture gives us. If one determines
to follow the latter course--as I always do--one feels better merely
for the moment, and. I have noticed that Nature always reasserts her
rights in other ways.

The Sixth Book of my novel has made a good impression here also; to be
sure, the poor reader never knows what he is about with works of this
kind, for he does not consider that he would probably never take them
up had not the author contrived to get the better of his thinking
powers, his feelings, and his curiosity.

Your testimony in favor of my tale I prize very highly, and I shall
henceforth work with more confidence at this species of composition.

The last volume of my novel cannot in any case appear before
Michaelmas; it would be well if we could arrange the plans we lately
discussed in reference to this.

My new story can, I think, hardly be ready by December, and,
moreover, I can scarcely venture to pass on to it till I have, in some
way or other, written something in explanation of the first. If, by
December, I cou