350 THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES. 



the spring I do not think that I should have 

 been alive to write it." 



Was there ever a more miserable tale of 

 slow torture ? Parts of it the parts relating 

 to his operations I have omitted. Enough 

 remains. Picture to yourself this tall, gaunt 

 man reduced to a skeleton, not able to use his 

 pen for more than a few minutes at a time, 

 his spine broken down, spitting blood, lying 

 back on the sofa, his mind full of splendid 

 thoughts which he cannot put upon paper, 

 dictating sometimes when he was strong 

 enough, resolved on making money so as to 

 save himself the " disgrace " of applying to 

 the Literary Fund, full of pain by day and 

 night, growing daily weaker, but never losing 

 heart or hope is there in the whole calamitous 

 history of authors a picture more full of sad- 

 ness and of pity than this ? 



He writes again on January 10, 1887. He 

 is no worse. The letter is about money matters 

 that is to say, he has no money. 



On February 2 he writes again. He has 

 been able to dictate a little. 



