round; and we think, if he could convey us
from the haunts of this Lasswade of his old age to those which glorified
the Grasmere of his youth, what new chords he might touch,--of human
love, for there it was that the sweetness of his wedded life had been
buried and embalmed in a thousand outward memorials of happy hours long
gone by,--and of human sadness, for there it was that he had experienced
the reversal of every outward fortune, and the alienations of
friendships which he most highly valued. But the remembrances of
Grasmere and of youth seem now to have been removed as into some other
life: the man of a past generation walks alone, and amid other scenes.
And yonder is the study in which he spends hours that are most
holy,--hours consecrated to what specific employments is known to none,
since across its threshold no feet save his have passed for years. Now
and then some grand intellectual effort proceeds forth from its sacred
precincts; but that only happens when pecuniary necessities compel the
exertion. How is it that the time not thus occupied is spent?--in what
remembrances, in what hidden thoughts, what passing dreams?

As it grows dark, De Quincey's guest, having spent most precious moments
which he feels ought never to cease, signifies the necessity of his
taking his departure. To take leave of this strange man, however, is not
so easy a matter as one might rashly suppose. There is a genius of
procrastination about him. Was he ever known to make his appearance at
any dinner in season, or indeed at any entertainment? Yes, he did
_once_, at the recital of a Greek tragedy on the Edinburgh stage; but
that happened through a trick played on him by an acquaintance, who, to
secure some remote chance of his seeing the performance, told him that
the doors opened at half-past six, whereas, in fact, they opened at
seven. How preposterous, then, to suppose that he would let an
opportunity pass for procrastinating other people, and putting all
manner of snares about their feet! It is dangerous with such a man to
hint of late hours; for just that lateness is to him the very jewel of
the thing. In mentioning the circumstance, you only suggest to him the
infinite pleasure connected with the circumstance. Perhaps he will
deliberately set to work to prove that candle-light is the one
absolutely indispensable condition to genial intercourse,--which would
doubtless suggest a great contrast, in that respect, between the ancient