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God's Plenty 123
his odds and ends of time, observing the Firth and Pond warning against writing too much and too fast. There is an instance of another rare kindred spirit who did just this in another creative field. Charles Lamb in old London a half century before—a man ' 'below the middle stature/'4 a man whose Confessions of a Drunkard rend your heart, a man "haunted with a sense ... of incapacity for business"5—this man stuck to his counting-house desk for six-and-thirty years and outside business hours produced a wealth of musical prose marked by exquisite humor and pathos.
Of exquisite humor and pathos there is "God's plenty" in Stephen Foster's melodies and we should be thankful. Not for ourselves but his own peace we could pray that such a later life as Lamb's had been granted to him whose youthful gleam was golden.