One sees a picture, reads an anecdote, starts a casual fancy, and thinks to tell of it to this person in preference to every other; the person is gone whom it would have peculiarly suited.

It won't do for another.

Every departure destroys a class of sympathies.

There's Captain Burney gone! What fun has whist now?
What matters it what you lead if you can no longer fancy him looking over you?
One never hears anything but the image of the particular person occurs with whom alone almost you would care to share the intelligence.

Thus one distributes oneself about, and now for so many parts of me I have lost the market.' The departure of Edgeworth and his family from Clifton in the autumn of 1793 was hastened by the news that disturbances were breaking out in Ireland.