But the task of revision still remained; for an hour or two I shrank from it, and remained gazing stupidly
at the pile of paper which I had written over. I was all but exhausted, and I dreaded, on inspecting the
sheets, to find them full of absurdities which I had paid no regard to in the furor of composition. But the
task, however trying to my nerves, must be got over; at last, in a kind of desperation, I entered upon it.
It was far from an easy one; there were, however, fewer errors and absurdities than I had anticipated.
About twelve oclock at night I had got over the task of revision. To-morrow for the bookseller, said I, as
my head sank on the pillow. Oh me!