27 March–2 April 1826

My years are passing away. Infirmities are already stealing on me that may be the deadly enemies that are to dissolve me to dirt, and little is yet done to establish my consideration among my contemporaries, and less to get a memory when I am gone. I confess the foolish ambition to be valued, with qualification. I do not want to be known by them that know me not, but where my name is mentioned I would have it respected. My recollections of early life are not very pleasant. I find or imagine in it a mean- ness, a character of unfounded pride cleaving to certain passages, which might come to many ears that death has not yet shut. I would have the echoes of a good name come to the same ears to remove such imputation, . . .