1800.
Of the rest of this melancholy year no vestige remains, either from
the Doctor or his Biographer. The beginning of the new century to them
was the closing of hope, not the opening of joy! and the pocket-book
memorandums of both are sterile and blank.
The Doctor, nevertheless, feeling himself past the time of life, and
past the strength of body for yielding to unbending grief without
danger to his faculties, as well as to his existence, accorded himself
but a short period for retirement from the world; and then, with what
force he could muster, returned to his business and his friends.