had he persevered; but he sacrificed himself to pique and impatience. He
quitted the bar, and the very summer after he had left it, the illness of a
senior counsel on that circuit afforded an opportunity where Temple would
have been called upon, and where he could fully have displayed his talents.
Once known, such a man would have been always distinguished.--He now
bitterly regrets that he abandoned his profession.--This imprudence gave
his friends a fair excuse for casting him off; but, he says, their neglect
grieves him not, for he had resolved never more to trust to their promises,
or to stoop to apply to them for patronage. He has been these last two
years in an obscure garret writing for bread. He says, however, that he is
sure he is happier, even in this situation, than are some of his cousins
at this instant, who are struggling in poverty to be genteel, or to keep
up a family name, and he would not change places with those who are in a
state of idle and opprobrious dependence. I understand (remember, this
is a secret between ourselves)--I understand that _Secretary_ Cunningham
Falconer has found him out, and makes _good use of his pen_, but pays
him shabbily. Temple is too much of a man of honour to _peach_. So Lord
Oldborough knows nothing of the matter; and Cunningham gets half his
business done, and supplies all his deficiencies, by means of this poor
drudging genius. Perhaps I have tired you with this history of my new
friend; but he has interested me extremely:--he has faults certainly,
perhaps too high a spirit, too much sensibility; but he has such strict
integrity, so much generosity of mind, and something so engaging in his
manners, that I cannot help loving, admiring, and pitying him--that last
sentiment, however, I am obliged to conceal, for he would not bear it.

"I see very little of Erasmus. He has been in the country this fortnight
with some patient. I long for his return.--I will make the inquiries you
desire about Buckhurst Falconer.