"  Let  me,  my  dear  Linden,  be  the  first  to  congratulate  you
upon  your  accession,  of  fortune  :  five  thousand  a  year,  Scars-
dale,  and  eighty  thousand  pounds  in  the  funds,  are  very  pretty
foes  to  starvation  !  Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you  had  but  shot
that  frosty  Caucasus  of  humanity,  that  pillar  of  the  state,  made
not  to  bend,  that — but  you  know  already  whom  I  mean,  and
sol  will  spare  you  more  of  my  lamentable  metaphors :  had  you
shot  Lord  Borodaile,  your  happiness  would  now  be  complete !
Everybody  talks  of  your  luck.  La  Meronvillc  tending  on  you
with  her  white  hands,  the  prettiest  hands  in  the  world — who
v/ould  not  be  wounded,  even  by  Lord  Borodaile,  for  such  a
nurse  ?  And  then  Talbot's — yet,  I  will  not  speak  of  that,  for
you  are  very  unlike  the  present  generation  ;  and  who  knows
but  you  may  have  some  gratitude,  some  affection,  some  natural
feeling  in  you.  I  had  once  ;  but  that  was  before  I  went  to
France — those  Parisians,  with  their  fine  sentiments,  and  witty
philosophy,  play  the  devil  with  one's  good  old-fashioned  feel-
ings. So  Lord  Aspeden  is  to  have  an  Italian  ministry.  By-
the-by,  shall  you  go  with  him,  or  will  you  not  rather  stay  at
home,  and  enjoy  your  new  fortunes — hunt — race — dine  out —
dance — vote  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and,  in  short,  do  all
that  an  Englishman  and  a  gentleman  should  do?  Ornamento
e  splendor  del  secol  nostra.  Write  me  a  line  whenever  you  have
nothing  better  to  do.
**  And  believe  me,

"Most  truly  yours,

"  Haverfield.
