Every day of my life," he continues, "is a day of
expectation, and, consequently, a day of disappointment; whether I shall
have a morsel of bread to eat at the end of two months, is as much an
uncertainty as it was fourteen months ago, and not more so."
While in this state of penury he received a visit, the object of which
was so creditable to a gentleman still living, and not unknown in the
annals of science, that it gives us pleasure to print the story in
Ledyard's own words:--
"Permit me to relate to you an incident. About a fortnight ago, Sir
James Hall,[8] an English gentleman, on his way from Paris to Cherbourg,
stopped his coach at our door, and came up to my chamber. I was in bed
at six o'clock in the morning, but having flung on my _robe de chambre_,
I met him at the door of the ante-chamber. I was glad to see him, but
surprised. He observed, that he had endeavoured to make up his opinion
of me, with as much exactness as possible, and concluded that no kind of
visit whatever would surprise me. I could do no otherwise than remark,
that his _opinion_ surprised me at least, and the conversation took
another turn.
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