Night sleeps clear the memory. I recollect that I owe to Mr. Robert Fletcher, your coadjutor in friendship to me, Forty odd Pounds, lent to me in one season when I removed in the autumn of 1833 from Camberwell to Peckham. Can I be said to recollect what I had never forgotten, ever were present in memory, yet not remembered? Strange it may seem to you, who know not of a mind estranged from itself, realizing in the [two words] on the Broken lights of the world.

Add too, £5 due to Mr Samuel William, for [two words] engravings to a wild work, "Old Humphrey's Calendar" in 1829. I have not seen him since, [one word] except when he did some things, I think, for my "History of the (Last) French Revolution," the [one word] days of July, for Mr Tegg.

Also add, debt due to Mr Clowes for printing the said "Calendar." I have no doubt that Mr. Clowes, & Mr Williams, have forgotten, or forgiven, these debts to them.

I also owe £1 to Mr Samuel Dixon, Solicitor, [Minring?] Lane, money borrowed of him a few years ago. He wrote to me sternly for it, a year or two ago — supposing me rich, I answered I was not but [remind?] him payment when I had ability.

This I believe closes all. I have wracked memory for more, to the utmost.

Our walk for a sunset knocked me up — and a [one word] East Wind this morning has found me out.