ss sleep,' and I have no conception of
any existence which duration would not render tiresome. How else 'fell
the angels,' even according to your creed? They were immortal, heavenly,
and happy as their _apostate_ _Abdiel_ is now by his treachery. Time
must decide; and eternity won't be the less agreeable or more horrible
because one did not expect it. In the mean time, I am grateful for some
good, and tolerably patient under certain evils--grace a Dieu et mon bon
temperament.

"Sunday, 28th.

----

"Monday, 29th.

----

"Tuesday, 30th.

"Two days missed in my log-book;--hiatus _haud_ deflendus. They were as
little worth recollection as the rest; and, luckily, laziness or society
prevented me from _notching_ them.

"Sunday, I dined with the Lord Holland in St. James's Square. Large
party--among them Sir S. Romilly and Lady Ry.--General Sir Somebody
Bentham, a man of science and talent, I am told--Horner--_the_ Horner,
an Edinburgh Reviewer, an excellent speaker in the 'Honourable House,'
very pleasing, too, and gentlemanly in company, as far as I have
seen--Sharpe--Phillips of Lancashire--Lord John Russell, and others,
'good men and true.' Holland's society is very good; you always see some
one or other in it worth knowing. Stuffed myself with sturgeon, and
exceeded in champagne and wine in general, but not to confusion of head.
When I _do_ dine, I gorge like an Arab or a Boa snake, on fish and
vegetables, but no meat. I am always better, however, on my tea and
biscuit than any other regimen, and even _that_ sparingly.

"Why does Lady H. always have that damned screen between the whole room
and the fire? I, who bear cold no better than an antelope, and never yet
found a sun quite _done_ to my taste, was absolutely petrified, and
could not even shiver. All the rest, too, looked as if they were just
unpacked, like salmon from an ice-basket, and set down to table for that
day only. When she retired, I watched their looks as I dismissed the
screen, and every cheek thawed, and every nose reddened with the
anticipated glow.

"Saturday, I went with Harry Fox to Nourjahad; and, I believe, convinced
him, by incessant yawning, that it was not mine. I wish the precious
author would own it, and release me from his fame. The dresses are
pretty, but not in costume;--Mrs. Horn's, all but the turban, and the
want of a small dagger (if she is a sultana), _perfect_. I never saw a
Turkish woman with a turban in my life--nor