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He came out with flushed brow and ruffled hair to keep Bessie company and hold the doctor's horse while he went up stairs with Mr. Moxon to visit his wife. That room where she lay in pain often, in weakness always, was a mean, poorly-furnished room, with a window in the thatch, and just a glimpse of heaven beyond, but that glimpse was all reflected in the blessedness of her peaceful face. Mr.
Moxon says: 'I suppose Miss Barrett is not in a hurry about her publication; and I say: 'I suppose Moxon is not in a hurry about the publication. There may be a little fault on my side, when I have kept a proof a day beyond the hour, or when 'copy' has put out new buds in my hands as I passed it to the printer's. Still, in my opinion, it is a good deal more the fault of Mr.
According to this sharpest of observers and deepest of thinkers, if a man during his period of activity is alive, so is a machine when in operation. As an inventor and constructor of machines I know that to be true." Moxon was silent for a long time, gazing absently into the fire.
"Are you serious? do you really believe that a machine thinks?" I got no immediate reply; Moxon was apparently intent upon the coals in the grate, touching them deftly here and there with the fire-poker till they signified a sense of his attention by a brighter glow. For several weeks I had been observing in him a growing habit of delay in answering even the most trivial of commonplace questions.
Still another appealed to terrors: "This is Hanah Moxon Her book You may just within it Look You had better not do more For old black Satan's at the Door And will snatch at stealing hands Look behind you! There He Stands." This had a tail-piece of an open door with a very black forked tail thrust out of it.
"I have tried my best to dissuade him, but his mind is bent on rising in the world. Like little Christie, the wheelwright's son, who must be an artist." "Why discourage young Musgrave? I heard from his father a few days ago that he had won a scholarship at Hampton worth fifty pounds a year, tenable for three years." "That is news, indeed! Moxon has coached him well: I sent him to poor Moxon.
In November 1844 he wrote to Mr Moxon, "I want you to get me a book which I see advertised in the Examiner: it seems to contain many speculations with which I have been familiar for years, and on which I have written more than one poem." This book was Vestiges of Creation. These poems are the stanzas in In Memoriam about "the greater ape," and about Nature as careless of the type: "all shall go."
The first series was printed in 1823, the second, The Last Essays of Elia, in 1833. In 1823 the L.'s had left London and taken a cottage at Islington, and had practically adopted Emma Isola, a young orphan, whose presence brightened their lives until her marriage in 1833 to E. Moxon, the publisher. In 1825 L. retired, and lived at Enfield and Edmonton.
At any rate, she advises that the sheets of any future book be sent to Moxon, and such an arrangement made that a copyright may be secured in England as well as here. And do you think it would be worth while? I must see the proof-sheets of this book. It is a cursed bore; for I want to be done with it from this moment.
Hunt's love for Procter was deep and tender, and in one of his notes to me he says, referring to the meeting my memory has been trying to describe, "I have reasons for liking our dear friend Procter's wine beyond what you saw when we dined together at his table the other day." Procter prefixed a memoir of the life and writings of Ben Jonson to the great dramatist's works printed by Moxon in 1838.
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