1831.] My New Lodgings. 623 



house, except " a respectable, quiet gentleman," who occupied, in the 

 golden estate of a bachelor, the apartment immediately joining mine 

 upon the same floor. " No children?" was the sole interrogatory I put. 

 I put it with the air of a plenipotentiary propounding his ultimatum. 

 The answer was in the negative, and the bargain was concluded. 



When the door was shut, and my chair drawn close to a comfortable 

 fire, the sensations I experienced were of the most enviable nature. 

 After one retrospective glance at my late miserable situation, my pre- 

 sent felicitous circumstances passed in review before me; I fancied 

 myself in Paradise, and formed a hundred literary projects to retrieve my 

 reputation and recruit my purse. I would run no risk in future of hav- 

 ing my verses ascribed to the poet of Oxford, or any other bardling of 

 the day ; I would be a constant and brilliant contributor to the 

 " Monthly Magazine ;" my random rays and scintillations I would throw 

 to other periodicals ; perhaps I would even produce a novel, the appear- 

 ance of which would be an epoch in English literature, like the publica- 

 tion of Waverley. It is a question, I continued, whether I should give 

 my name at once to the world, or become another " Great Unknown/' 

 Another difficulty suggested itself. My portrait will be solicited for some 

 gallery of living literary characters ; perhaps I had better sit to Rothwell 

 at once or, quere, would it not be more eclcitant to refuse refuse them 

 my countenance ! They will press me, of course I will be peremptory, 

 fierce, inflexible. But suppose a hundred pounds offered to overcome 

 my scruples how should I act ? Would it look mercenary to take the 

 money ? A hundred pence would be a great matter at present my 

 malison on the tailor's lady ! I'll agree they shall have it for the hun- 

 dred. Oh ! but I forget my novel I shall not want a paltry hundred 

 pounds. If I consent to be engraved, it will therefore be out of pure 

 magnanimity to encourage literature and the arts. But this is wan- 

 dering ; let me think of an article for next month. Thank Heaven ! 

 here is no wilderness of squalling brats to distract me. This is just the 

 place just the place for an author. Gibbon ! I do not envy you your 

 bower by Lake Leman. Simeon the Stylite ! I do not grudge you the 

 summit of your famous pillar in the solitudes of Syria ! Here I have 

 all the solitude, quiet repose, silence What noise was that ? 



The sound which broke my soliloquy, and occasioned this abrupt 

 interrogatory, was a note of a flute from the ' f respectable, quiet gentle- 

 man" in the adjoining apartment. " A flute-player !" I ejaculated in a 

 tone very different from that of my former musings " my next-room 

 neighbour is a flute-player \" It was not until that moment that I par- 

 ticularly noticed a door which actually communicated between our 

 quarters. The door, to be sure, was locked ; but Bramah himself can- 

 not lock out sounds. My first impressions, therefore, on hearing the 

 note of the flute, were like those of one who, couching on roses, discovers 

 an adder preparing to sting him. The thought, however, soon occurred 

 that it would be only a tune or two three at the utmost ; and it was 

 fortunate to have a " respectable, quiet gentleman" for a neighbour on 

 no harder terms than three airs on the flute, even were the performance 

 to be daily repeated. With this reflection I laid down my pen, threw 

 myself serenely back on my chair, and resolved to wait en philosopke 

 until my melodious neighbour had taken his innocent recreation. " The 

 day," said I, parodying a speech of Uncle Toby, " is long enough both 

 for him and me." I listened. It is possible, as my friends know, to be 



