Good heavens! to be the cause of such a pother;
It will get wind:—such notoriety,
A breach of every rule of civilized society!
I bid adieu to sarcasm here, and must not take the memory of such beings as I leave behind me, into the vallies of Piémont. I must purify myself by bathing in the Pelice, before I presume to penetrate farther into those enchanting regions of nature and simplicity. What have Mrs. Hannaper and Lady Campion in common with the glorious Alps? I wish that I had never seen or heard of them.
This Brighton is not worth a sketch; a meagre strand, a barren flat, dressed up indeed, and frequented as the seat of majesty. But the palace here is no better than a wart, a mere excrescence without either grace or beauty, bereft of all that constitutes grandeur, or excites an idea of tasteful feeling without, and within seeming like a mighty store-house, in which all sorts of splendid things from east, west, north, and south, are accumulated, as in a great bazaar. I wonder that the king did not grow weary of its dull monotony long ago. My uncle, dear soul, is much less well than he was a month ago, and I grow impatient till we arrive at Turin, in hope, (oh, what a desert would this world be but for its sweet influence), that change of climate may effect some happy alteration. Mamma has been employing all her rhetoric in vain, to persuade him into passing on at once to our destination, but he will halt in Paris, that we may gaze upon its wonders. Once more adieu. Wish us a fair wind and quick passage, dearest Julia, and with love to all you love, believe me, till death, your affectionate
Emily Douglas.
LETTER XL.
Frederick Douglas to the Rev. Mr. Oliphant.
Paris.