here I sit, well and hearty, already quite at home,
and perfectly happy in the receipt of your dear letter, which assures
me that you and the children are well; what more or what better could
I wish for? After sleeping well and paying well at Dover, we set out
yesterday morning in the Express coach, a noble carriage, drawn by four
English horses, such as no prince need be ashamed of. With four persons
within, four in front, and four behind, we dashed on with the rapidity
of lightning, through this inexpressibly beautiful country: meadows of
the loveliest green, gardens blooming with flowers, and every building
displaying a neatness and elegance which form a striking contrast to
the dirt of France. The majestic river, covered with ships of all sizes
(among others, the largest ship of the line, of 148 guns), the graceful
country houses, altogether made the journey perfectly unique."

He took up his residence with Sir George Smart, where everything that
could add to his comfort, or soothe his illness, had been provided by
anticipation. He found his table covered with cards from visiters who
had called before his arrival, and a splendid pianoforte in his room
from one of the first makers, with a request that he would make use
of it during his stay.

"The whole day," he writes to his wife, "is mine till five--then dinner,
the theatre, or society. My solitude in England is not painful to me.
The English way of living suits mine exactly; and my little stock of
English, in which I make tolerable progress, is of incalculable use
to me.

"Give yourself no uneasiness about the opera (Oberon), I shall have
leisure and repose here, for they respect my time. Besides, the Oberon
is not fixed for Easter Monday, but some time later; I shall tell you
afterwards when. The people are really too kind to me. No king ever
had more done for him out of love; I may almost say they carry me in
their arms. I take great care of myself, and you may be quite at ease
on my account. My cough is really a very odd one; for eight days it
disappeared entirely; then, upon the 3rd (of March) a vile spasmodic
attack returned before I reached Calais. Since that time it is quiet
again. I cannot, with all the consideration I have given it, understand
it at all. I sometimes deny myself every indulgence, and yet it comes.
I eat and drink every thing, and it does not come. But be it as God will.

"At seven o'clock in the evening we went to Covent Garden, where