were to be my last, swam in champagne, or rested in girls'
embraces. You doubtless blush for me; you may do so, but don't
think that that conviction will murder my almost shameless
candour, the only virtue which I possess, in a superfluous
degree. In Sweden I tried to be lovable, and succeeded, to the
astonishment of myself and everybody else. I reaped the reward
on the most beautiful lips, which only too often had to
complain that the fascinating Dane was faithless like the foam
of the sea and the ice of spring. Every wrinkle which
seriousness had impressed on my face vanished in joy and
smiles; my frozen heart melted and pulsed with the rapid beat
of gladness; in short, I was not recognisable. Now I have come
back to my old wrinkles, and make sacrifice again on the altar
of friendship, and when the incense, this letter, reaches you,
then prove to me your pleasure, wherever you may be, and let an
echo of friendship's voice resound from Granada's Alhambra or
Sahara's deserts. But I know that you, good soul, will write
and give me great pleasure by informing me that you are happy
and well; when I get a letter from you my heart rejoices, and I
feel as if I were happy, and that is what happiness consists
of. Therefore, let your soldierlike letters march promptly to
their place of arms--paper--and move in close columns to St.
Petersburg, where they will find warm winter quarters. I have
received a letter from my correspondent in London, Mr. Edward
Thomas Allan, No. 11 North Audley St.; he informs me that my
manuscript has been promenading about, calling on publishers
without having been well received; some of them would not even
look at it, because it smelt of Russian leather; others kept it
for three or six weeks and sent it back with 'Thanks for the
loan.' They probably used it to get rid of the moth out of
their old clothes. It first went to Longman and Co.'s,
Paternoster Row; Bull of Hollis St.; Saunders and Otley,
Conduit St.; John Murray of Albemarle St., who kept it for
three weeks; and finally it went to Bentley of New Burlington
St., who kept it for SIX weeks and returned it; now it is to
pay a visit to a Mr. Colburn, and if he won't have the
abandoned child, I will myself care for it. If this finds you
in London, which is quite