It was on the night of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours 

	of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last line of the last page

	in a summer-house in my garden.  After laying down my pen, I took

	several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias...I will

	not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my

	freedom, and, perhaps the establishment of my fame.  But my pride

	was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind

	by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and

	agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future fate

	of my history, the life of the historian must be short and

	precarious.


		--From the Autobiography of Edward Gibbon, author

		      of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire