The Last Day of July

The last day of July was drawing to a close. The fading summer left me out of hell out of spirits and if truth must be told out of money as well. During the past year I had not managed my professional resources as carefully as usual. My extravagance now limited me to a prospect of spending the autumn economically between my mother's cottage to hamston and my own chambers in town. It is necessary to mention that my father had been dead some years at the period of which I am now writing and that my sister Sarah and I were sole survivors of a family of five children. His affection and anxiety to provide for the future of those who were dependent on his labors had impaled