ut of my premises. I mean to give up all connection, on my return,
with many of my best friends--as I supposed them--and to snarl all my
life. But I hope to have one good-humoured laugh with you, and to
embrace Dwyer, and pledge Hodgson, before I commence cynicism.

"Tell Dr. Butler I am now writing with the gold pen he gave me before
I left England, which is the reason my scrawl is more unintelligible
than usual. I have been at Athens and seen plenty of these reeds for
scribbling, some of which he refused to bestow upon me, because
topographic Gell had brought them from Attica. But I will not
describe,--no--you must be satisfied with simple detail till my
return, and then we will unfold the flood-gates of colloquy. I am in a
thirty-six gun frigate, going up to fetch Bob Adair from
Constantinople, who will have the honour to carry this letter.

"And so H.'s _boke_ is out,[135] with some sentimental sing-song of my
own to fill up,--and how does it take, eh? and where the devil is the
second edition of my Satire, with additions? and my name on the title
page? and more lines tagged to the end, with a new exordium and what
not, hot from my anvil before I cleared the Channel? The Mediterranean
and the Atlantic roll between me and criticism; and the thunders of
the Hyperborean Review are deafened by the roar of the Hellespont.

"Remember me to Claridge, if not translated to college, and present to
Hodgson assurances of my high consideration. Now, you will ask, what shall
I do next? and I answer, I do not know. I may return in a few months, but
I have intents and projects after visiting Constantinople.--Hobhouse,
however, will probably be back in September.

"On the 2d of July we have left Albion one year--'oblitus meorum
obliviscendus et illis.' I was sick of my own country, and not much
prepossessed in favour of any other; but I 'drag on' 'my chain'
without 'lengthening it at each remove.' I am like the Jolly Miller,
caring for nobody, and not cared for. All countries are much the same
in my eyes. I smoke, and stare at mountains, and twirl my mustachios
very independently. I miss no comforts, and the musquitoes that rack
the morbid frame of H. have, luckily for me, little effect on mine,
because I live more temperately.

"I omitted Ephesus in my catalogue, which I visited during my sojourn
at Smyrna; but the Temple has almost perished, and St. Paul need not
trouble himself to epistolise the present brood of Ephesians, wh