o many friendly and cheerful recollections in
any place; and to represent me in my absence, its tone should be very
eloquent and affectionate indeed.

Well, if I don't turn up again next summer it shall not be my fault. In
the meanwhile, I shall often and often look that way with my mind's eye,
and hear the sweet, clear, bell-like voice of ---- with the ear of my
imagination. In the event of there being any change--but it is not
likely--in the appearance of his cravat behind, where it goes up into
his head, I mean, and frets against his wig--I hope some one of my
English friends will apprise me of it, for the love of the great Saint
Bernard.

I have not seen Lord Normanby yet. I have not seen anything up to this
time but houses and lodgings. There seems to be immense excitement here
on the subject of ---- however, and a perfectly stupendous sensation
getting up. I saw the king the other day coming into Paris. His carriage
was surrounded by guards on horseback, and he sat very far back in it, I
thought, and drove at a great pace. It was strange to see the prefet of
police on horseback some hundreds of yards in advance, looking to the
right and left as he rode, like a man who suspected every twig in every
tree in the long avenue.

The English relations look anything but promising, though I understand
that the Count St. Aulaire is to remain in London, notwithstanding the
newspaper alarms to the contrary. If there be anything like the
sensation in England about ---- that there is here, there will be a
bitter resentment indeed. The democratic society of Paris have
announced, this morning, their intention of printing and circulating
fifty thousand copies of an appeal in every European language. It is a
base business beyond question, and comes at an ill time.

Mrs. Dickens and her sister desire their best regards to be sent to you
and their best loves to Mrs. Watson, in which I join, as nearly as I
may. Believe me, with great truth,

Very sincerely yours.

P.S.--Mrs. Dickens is going to write to Mrs. Watson next week, she says.

[Sidenote: M. Cerjat.]

PARIS, 48, RUE DE COURCELLES, ST. HONORE,
_Friday, Nov. 27th, 1846._

MY DEAR CERJAT,

When we turned out of your view on that disconsolate Monday, when you so
kindly took horse and rode forth to say good-bye, we went on in a very
dull and drowsy manner, I ca