CHAPTER LXVI.
Trepidations--Subtle Principle--Perverse Imagination--Are they Mine ?--Another Book--How Hard!--Agricultural Dinner--Incomprehensible Actions--Inmost Bosom--Give it Up--Chance Resemblance--Rascally Newspaper.
"An author," said I, addressing my host; "is it possible that I am under the roof of an author ?" "Yes," said my host, sighing, "my name is so and so, and I am the author of so and so; it is more than probable that you have heard both of my name and works.

I will not detain you much longer with my history; the night is advancing, and the storm appears to be upon the increase.

My life since the period of my becoming an author may be summed briefly as an almost uninterrupted series of doubts, anxieties, and trepidations.

I see clearly that it is not good to love anything immoderately in this world, but it has been my misfortune to love immoderately everything on which I have set my heart.

This is not good, I repeat--but where is the remedy?
The ancients were always in the habit of saying, 'Practise moderation,' but the ancients appear to have considered only one portion of the subject.