the ices, the pine apples—I can stare at the gold and silver plate till I pine to pawn it—but for real enjoyment give me one day such as I have spent at your house. I grant that in the country nothing seems easier than to become the golden calf of a circle, but I never envied Miss Seward.
"No; 'London, my country, city of the soul,' I am content to dwell for aye with thee. I, however, cordially agree in one of your favourite opinions, the happiness of being one of a large family. There is certainly something very delightful in being the object of affectionate solicitude to many, bound in every tie of habit and relationship. . . . I should like you to know my aunt, I think you would be so much pleased with her. . . . You must summon philosophy and the haberdasher to your aid, for gloves of mine, here at least, you will never get. En passant, I have heard most ludicrous accounts of my achievements in that way. One young lady heard at Scarborough last summer, that I had had two hundred offers; and a gentleman at Leeds brought an account of three hundred and fifty straight from London. It is really very unfortunate that my conquests should so much resemble the passage to the North Pole and Wordsworth's Cuckoo, 'talked of but never seen.' . . . Since the first page of this was written, I have seen York Cathedral—it is a glorious place. The feeling on entering it is worth a whole month of common existence. I only longed to assassinate the guide who kept talking of feet and inches."
The next letter which L. E. L. addressed to Mrs. Thomson is in painful contrast with that which has just been transcribed. The subject of it is here adverted to with a reluctance which will at least ensure brevity. At the very moment when
