s a
day, after using your basin, you would find it clean, and the pitcher
replenished on your return, and that you cannot take your clothes off,
but they are taken away, brushed, folded, pressed, and placed in the
bureau; and at the dressing-hour, before dinner, you find your candles
lighted, your clothes laid out, your shoes cleaned, and everything
arranged for use; . . . the dress-clothes brushed and folded in the nicest
manner, and cold water, and hot water, and clean napkins in the greatest
abundance. . . . Imagine an elegant chamber, fresh water in basins, in
goblets, in tubs, and sheets of the finest linen!"

[161] From this time to his death there was always friendly intercourse
with his old publisher Mr. Bentley.

[162] It may be proper to record the fact that he had made a short run
to Paris, with Maclise, at the end of June, of which sufficient farther
note will have been taken if I print the subjoined passages from a
letter to me dated 24th June, 1850, Hotel Windsor, Rue de Rivoli. "There
being no room in the Hotel Brighton, we are lodged (in a very good
apartment) here. The heat is absolutely frightful. I never felt anything
like it in Italy. Sleep is next to impossible, except in the day, when
the room is dark, and the patient exhausted. We purpose leaving here on
Saturday morning and going to Rouen, whence we shall proceed either to
Havre or Dieppe, and so arrange our proceedings as to be home, please
God, on Tuesday evening. We are going to some of the little theatres
to-night, and on Wednesday to the Francais, for Rachel's last
performance before she goes to London. There does not seem to be
anything remarkable in progress, in the theatrical way. Nor do I observe
that out of doors the place is much changed, except in respect of the
carriages which are certainly less numerous. I also think the Sunday is
even much more a day of business than it used to be. As we are going
into the country with Regnier to-morrow, I write this after letter-time
and before going out to dine at the Trois Freres, that it may come to
you by to-morrow's post. The twelve hours' journey here is
astounding--marvellously done, except in respect of the means of
refreshment, which are absolutely none. Mac is very well (extremely
loose as to his waistcoat, and otherwise careless in regard of buttons)
and sends his love. De Fresne proposes a dinner with all the
notabilities of Paris present, but I WON'T stand it! I really have
undergon