eyel make any difficulties, apply to Erard; I think
that the latter in all probability ought to be serviceable to
you. Only do not act hastily, and first ascertain how the
matter really stands.

As to the Tarantella, seal it and send it to Hamburg. To-
morrow I shall write you of other affairs, concerning
Troupenas, &c.

Embrace Johnnie, and tell him to write.

[5.]

Thanks for all the commissions you have executed so well. To-
day, that is on the 9th, I received the piano and the other
things. Do not send my little bust to Warsaw, it would
frighten them, leave it in the press. Kiss Johnnie for his
letter. I shall write him a few lines shortly.

To-morrow I shall very likely send back my old servant, who
loses his wits here. He is an honest man and knows how to
serve, but he is tiresome, and makes one lose one's patience.
I shall send him back, telling him to wait for me in Paris. If
he appears at the house, do not be frightened.

Latterly the weather has been only so-so.

The man in Chateauroux was waiting three days for the piano;
yesterday, after receiving your letter, I gave orders that he
should be recalled. To-day I do not yet know what kind of tone
the piano has, as it is not yet unpacked; this great event is
to take place to-morrow. As to the delay and misunderstanding
in sending it, do not make any inquiries; let the matter rest,
it is not worth a quarrel. You did the best you could. A
little ill-humour and a few days lost in expectation are not
worth a pinch of snuff. Forget, therefore, my commissions and
your transaction; next time, if God permits us to live,
matters will turn out better.

I write you these few words late at night. Once more I thank
you, most obliging of men, for the commissions, which are not
yet ended, for now comes the turn of the Troupenas business,
which will hang on your shoulders. I shall write to you on
this subject more fully some other time, and to-day I wish you
good night. But don't have dreams like Johnnie--that I died;
but rather dream that I am about to be born, or something of
the sort.

In fact, I am feeling now as calm and serene as a baby in
swaddling-clothes; and if somebody wished to put me in leading-
strings, I should be very glad--nota bene, with a cap thickly
lined with wadding on my head, for I feel that at every moment
I should stumble and turn upside down. Unfortu