From his first arrival in town Crabbe kept a diary or journal, addressed to his “Mira” at Parham, and we owe to it a detailed account of his earlier struggles, three months of the journal having survived and fallen into his son’s hands after the poet’s death.  Crabbe had arrived in London in April, and by the end of the month we learn from the journal that he was engaged upon a work in prose, “A Plan for the Examination of our Moral and Religious Opinions,” and also on a poetical “Epistle to Prince William Henry,” afterwards William IV., who had only the year before entered the navy as midshipman, but had already seen some service under Rodney.  The next day’s entry in the diary tells how he was not neglecting other possible chances of an honest livelihood.  He had answered an advertisement in the Daily Advertiser for “an amanuensis, of grammatical education, and endued with a genius capable of making improvements in the writings of a gentleman not well versed in the English language.”  Two days later he called for a reply, only to find that the gentleman was suited.  The same day’s entry also records how he had sent his poem (probably the ode to the young Sailor-Prince) to Mr. Dodsley.  Only a day later he writes.  “Judging it best to have two strings to the bow, and fearing Mr. Dodsley’s will snap, I have finished another little work from that awkward-titled piece, ’The Foes of Mankind’:  have run it on to three hundred and fifty lines, and given it a still more odd name, ‘An Epistle from the Devil.’  To-morrow I hope to transcribe it fair, and send it by Monday.”

“Mr. Dodsley’s reply just received:  ’Mr. Dodsley presents his compliments to the gentleman who favoured him with the enclosed poem, which he has returned, as he apprehends the sale of it would probably not enable him to give any consideration.  He does not mean to insinuate a want of merit in the poem, but rather a want of attention in the public.’”

All this was sufficiently discouraging, and the next day’s record is one of even worse omen.  The poet thanks Heaven that his spirits are not affected by Mr. Dodsley’s refusal, and that he is already preparing another poem for another bookseller, Mr. Becket.  He adds, however:  “I find myself under the disagreeable necessity of vending or pawning some of my more useless articles:  accordingly have put into a paper such as cost about two or three guineas, and, being silver, have not greatly lessened in their value.  The conscientious pawnbroker allowed me—­’he thought he might’—­half a guinea for them.  I took it very readily, being determined to call for them very soon, and then, if I afterwards wanted, carry them to some less voracious animal of the kind.”