of interest; it broke the sense of loneliness that has pressed upon me ever since my arrival.
I do not agree with Mrs. Churchill's sweeping condemnation, "that London is only a great, wicked, expensive place;" but you leave the fairy land of fancy behind you forever, on entering it. It is the most real place in the world; you will inevitably be brought to your level. If I were to quit it now, I should quit it not liking it at all: no one does who, having country habits, comes up for only a short time. The sense of your own insignificance is any thing but pleasant; then you are hurried through a round of amusements for which you have not acquired a relish, they being, as yet, unconnected with any little personal vanities. You suffer from bodily fatigue, because the exertion is of a kind to which you are unaccustomed; moreover, you feel your own deficiencies, and exaggerate both their importance and the difficulty of overcoming them. But this is only "beginning at the beginning;" and I have a very brilliant perspective—I intend to be so courted,
