She has much
beauty,--just enough,--but is, I think, _mechante_.
I have been pondering on the miseries of separation, that--oh how seldom
we see those we love! yet we live ages in moments, _when met_. The only
thing that consoles me during absence is the reflection that no mental
or personal estrangement, from ennui or disagreement, can take place;
and when people meet hereafter, even though many changes may have taken
place in the mean time, still, unless they are _tired_ of each other,
they are ready to reunite, and do not blame each other for the
circumstances that severed them.
* * * * *
Saturday 27
(I believe or rather am in _doubt_, which is the _ne plus ultra_ of
mortal faith.)
I have missed a day; and, as the Irishman said, or Joe Miller says for
him, "have gained a loss," or _by_ the loss. Every thing is settled for
Holland, and nothing but a cough, or a caprice of my fellow-traveller's,
can stop us. Carriage ordered, funds prepared, and, probably, a gale of
wind into the bargain. _N'importe_--I believe, with Clym o' the Clow, or
Robin Hood, "By our Mary, (dear name!) thou art both Mother and May, I
think it never was a man's lot to die before his day." [1]
Heigh for Helvoetsluys, and so forth!
To-night I went with young Henry Fox to see _Nourjahad_, a drama, which
the _Morning Post_ hath laid to my charge, but of which I cannot even
guess the author. I wonder what they will next inflict upon me.
Pages:
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478