C.J. Hogarth

Why do you write thus about “comfort” and “peace” and the rest? I am not a

fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I been so comfortable as now. Why, then, should I complain in my old age? I have enough to

eat, I am well dressed and booted

Whether or not Phaldoni has any other name I do not know, but at least he answers to this one, and every one calls him by it.

How I would embrace the old woman in transports of joy! After dressing me, and

wrapping me up, she would find that she could scarcely keep pace with me on the

way home, so full was I of chatter and tales about one thing and another. Then, when I had arrived home merry and lighthearted, how fervently I would embrace

my parents, as though I had not seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would