was to have ascended with a smart girl, his bonne amie; for some reason that I know not, some one went up in her place; she was extremely mortified; the balloon rose, diminished, vanished into night; no one could guess what might be its fate, and the poor dear one danced the whole evening to shake off her melancholy.

I am glad I am come here. I entertained many ideas of it, which I have entirely given up, or very much indeed altered. Never was there a scene that could furnish more to the weeping or the grinning philosopher; they might well agree that human affairs were a sad joke. I see it every where and in every thing. The wheel has run a complete round; only changed some spokes and a few "felloes," very little for the better, but the axle certainly has not rusted-nor do I see any likelihood of its rusting. At present all is quiet except the tongue, thanks to those invaluable protectors of peace-the army!! At Tivoli last night we had at least a hundred soldiers, with fixed bayonets. The consul now lives at St. Cloud, in a magnificence, solitary, but still fitting his marvellous fortune. He is very rarely seen-he travels by night—is indefatigable -has no favourite, &c.

As to the little affairs at the Priory*, I can scarcely condescend, after a walk in the Louvre, amid the spirit of those arts which were inspired by freedom, and have been transmitted to power, to think of so poor a subject. I hope to get a letter from you in London, at Osborne's, Adelphi. Many of the Irish are here,-not of consequence * Mr. Curran's country seat, near Dublin.

to be in danger: I have merely heard of them. Yesterday I met Arthur O'Connor in the street, with Lord and Lady Oxford. Her ladyship very kindly pressed me to dine; but I was engaged. I had bargained for a cabriolet, to go and see my poor gossip. Set out at two: at the end of five miles found I was totally misdirected-returned to St. Denys-got a miserable dinner, and was fleeced as usual. I had some vengeance of the rascal, however, by deploring the misery of a country where a stranger had nothing for his dinner but a bill. You feel a mistake in chronology in the two "yesterdays;' but, in fact, part of this was written yesterday, and the latter part now. I need not desire you to hid any one remember me; but tell them I remember them.Say how Eliza does. Tell Amelia and Sarah I do not forget them. God bless you all.

J. P. C.

MR. CURRAN TO LEONARD M'NALLY, ESQ.

DEAR MAC,

DUBLIN.

Godwin's, 41, Skinner Street, London.

A

I GOT the cover yesterday, thinking to write a very long wise letter to you; now, I have only the few moments that G.'s griskin takes to be burnt. Poor Tooke is, I fear, at his last. singular man! One glory he has eminently-he has been highly valued by many good men of his day, and persecuted by almost every scoundrel that united the power with the will to do

So. His talents were of the first stamp, his intellect most clear, his attachment to England, I think, inflexible, his integrity not to be seduced, and his personal courage not to be shaken. If this shall be admitted, he has lived long enough; and if it is not, he has lived too long.

My health is much better; my breast quite free, the pain gone, my appetite rather better, sleep not so profound, spirits flutter, temper more even -altogether some gainer by the reduction of wine. At your side, I understand, my good friends have Sangradoed me, but I have taken only the water-no bleeding for me. I have written to Amelia; that may save you some three pages, which might be blank and written at the same time. I would beg a line, but I shall have set out too soon to get it. No news here, but what the papers give you; they are all mad about the convention: I differ from them totally, as I feel a disposition to do on every subject.

I am glad to hear you are letting yourself out at Old Orchard; you are certainly unwise in giving up such an inducement to exercise, and the absolute good of being so often in good air. I have been talking about your habit without naming yourself. I am more persuaded that you and Egan are not sufficiently afraid of weak liquors. I can say, from trial, how little pains it costs to correct a bad habit. On the contrary, poor nature, like an ill used mistress, is delighted with the return of our kindness, and is anxious to show her gratitude for the return, by letting us see how well she becomes it.

I am the more solicitous upon this point from

having made this change, which I see will make me waited for in heaven longer than perhaps they looked for. If you do not make some pretext for lingering, you can have no chance of conveying me to the wherry; and the truth is, I do not like surviving old friends. I am somewhat inclined to wish for posthumous reputation; and if you go before me, I shall lose one of the most irreclaimable of my trumpeters: therefore, dear Mac, no more water, and keep the other element-your wind, for the benefit of your friends. I will show my gratitude as well as I can, by saying handsome things of you to the saints and angels before you come. Best regards to all with you.

Yours, &c.

J. P. C.

MR. CURRAN TO P. LESLIE, ESQ. DUBLIN.

DEAR PETER,

Cheltenham, Sept. 11, 1811.

DON'T open this till the little circle of our Hirish friends are together. You will all be glad to hear that an old friend is yet in the harbour of this stormy world, and has not forgotten you: in truth, it is only that sentiment which troubles you with this worthless dispatch; but small as its value may be, it is worth at least what it costs you. I don't think these waters are doing me any good, I think they never did; they bury my poor spirits in the earth. I consulted yesterday evening (indeed chiefly to put so many moments to a technical death) our countryman B., a very obstinate fellow: though I paid him for his

affability, and his "indeed I think so too, Mr. Shandy," I could not work him into an admission that I had any malady whatsoever, nor even any to hope for by continuing the intrigue with Mrs. Forty *; so I have a notion of striking my tent, and taking a position behind the Trent, at Donnington +. During my stay here I have fallen into some pleasant female society; but such society can be enjoyed only by those who are something at a tea table or a ball. Tea always makes me sleepless; and as to dancing, I tried three or four steps that were quite the cream of the thing in France at one time, and which cost me something. I thought it might be the gaiters that gave them a piperly air; but even after putting on my black silk stockings, and perusing them again before the glass, which I put on the ground for the purpose of an exact review, I found the edition was too stale for republication.

The cover of this contains a list of all the politicians met at Cheltenham, and therefore you must see that I am out of work as well for my head as my heels. Even the newspapers seem so parched by the heat of the season, which is extreme, as to have lost all vegetation. In short, I have made no progress in any thing except in marketing, and I fancy I can cast a glance upon a shoulder of Welsh mutton with all the careless indecision of an unresolved purchaser, and yet with the eye of a master; so I have contrived to have two or three at five o'clock, except when I dine abroad, which I don't much like to do.

* The person who dispensed the waters at Cheltenham. + Lord Moira's seat.