But he could not bring himself to sit at his desk and do an allotted task day after day.

He accomplished what must be considered as quite a sufficient life's work.

He had about twenty-five years for the purpose, and that which he has left is an ample produce for the time.
Nevertheless he was a man of fits and starts, who, not having been in his early years drilled to method, never achieved it in his career.
He died on the day before Christmas Day, as has been said above, very suddenly, in his bed, early in the morning, in the fifty-third year of his life.

To those who saw him about in the world there seemed to be no reason why he should not continue his career for the next twenty years.
But those who knew him were so well aware of his constant sufferings, that, though they expected no sudden catastrophe, they were hardly surprised when it came.

His death was probably caused by those spasms of which he had complained ten years before, in his letter to Mr.Reed.