the "Bravo," but it is a good book and
better than two thirds of Scott's. They may say it is like his if they
please; they have said so of every book I have written, even the "Pilot."
But the "Heidenmauer" is like and was intended to be like, in order to
show how differently a democrat and an aristocrat saw the same thing. As
for French criticisms they have never been able to exalt me in my own
opinion nor to stir my bile, for they are written with such evident
ignorance (I mean of English books) as to be beneath notice. What the
deuce do I care whether my books are on their shelves or not? What did I
ever get from France or Continental Europe? Neither personal favors nor
money. But this they cannot understand, for so conceited is a Frenchman
that many of them think that I came to Paris to be paid. Now I never got
the difference in the boiling of the pot between New York and Paris in my
life. The "Journal des Debats" was snappish with "Water Witch," merve [?]
I believe with "Bravo," and let it bark at "Heidenmauer" and be hanged.

No, no more. The humiliation comes from home. It is biting to find that
accident has given me a country which has not manliness and pride to
maintain its own opinions, while it is overflowing with conceit. But
never mind all this. See that you do not decamp before my departure and
I'll promise not to throw myself into the Rhine....

I hope the Fourth of July is not breaking out in Habersham's noddle, for
I can tell him that was the place most affected during the dinner. Adieu,

Yours as ever,
J. FENIMORE COOPER.

The Mr. Habersham here jokingly referred to was R.W. Habersham, of
Augusta, Georgia, who in the year 1831 was an art student in the
_atelier_ of Baron Gros, and between whom and Morse a friendship sprang
up. They roomed together at a time when the cholera was raging in Paris,
but, owing to Mr. Habersham's wise insistence that all the occupants of
the house should take a teaspoonful of charcoal every morning, all
escaped the disease.

Mr. Habersham in after years wrote and sent to Morse some of his
reminiscences of that period, and from these I shall quote the following
as being of more than ordinary interest:--

"The Louvre was always closed on Monday to clean up the gallery after the
popular exhibition of the paintings on Sunday, so that Monday was our day
for visits, excursions, etc. On one occasion I was left alone, and two or
three times during the week he was absent. This w