Arthur Dixon letters

been hearing him for about half an hour – he talks rationally, connectedly, but his aberration is more shewn or inferred from the fact of a soldier of his rank & distinction, devoting the time to talk to one of my grade & a person like myself, "of battles, sieges, fortunes", most disastrous chances, "of moving accidents by flood & field, "of hair breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach", & all those things with which the noble Moor won the fair Desdemona, but which are dreadfully out of place related here. – To have been in contact with such a man, to have the contemplation of such a wreck of humanity forced upon my mind, excites sensations of admiration & pity of such a painful description that it is almost impossible immediately to shift the scene. I cannot whistle away the storm scene & slide on that nightly smiling with sunshine – no, it sticks like the bunglers which we have seen at our Theatre & to hide the confusion down goes the green curtain.
I can no more to-night. Take care of yourself my dear Boy. There are things I would ask, about which I cannot write – is all well? – Do you rise early? –
Do not forget your Friend Dixon.
I used to watch our old Postman, until it became a certain source of disappointment, & even now I catch myself at something very like it.