There is a demand for you in England, and a general inquiry whether you have given us up altogether. I always defend you, and say, if you have so done, that it is from no want of love for us, but from a rooted dislike of rheumatism, catarrh, and bodily mal-être, such as all true Britons undergo for eleven months and three weeks in the year.
What have I to tell you of our old friends? Lady —— is tolerably well, with two courses and a
French cook. She has fitted up her lower rooms in a very pretty style, and
there receives the shattered remains of the symposiasts of the house.
Lady —— has captivated Mr. ——,
though they have not proceeded to the extremities of marriage. Mr. —— is going gently down-hill, trusting
that the cookery in another planet may be at least as good as in this; but not
without
| 470 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
I have not yet discovered of what I am to die, but I rather believe I shall be burnt alive by the Puseyites. Nothing so remarkable in England as the progress of these foolish people. I have no conception what they mean, if it be not to revive every absurd ceremony, and every antiquated folly, which the common sense of mankind has set to sleep. You will find at your return a fanatical Church of England, but pray do not let it prevent your return. We can always gather together, in Park-street and Green-street, a chosen few who have never bowed the knee to Rimmon.
Did you meet at Rome my friend Mrs. ——? Give me, if you please, some notion of the impression she produced upon you. She is very clever, very good-natured, and good-hearted, but the Lilliputians are afraid of her. We shall be truly glad to see you again, but I think you will never return. Why should you give up your serene heavens and short winters, to re-enter this garret of the earth? Yet there are those in the garret who know how to appreciate you, and no one better than your old and sincere friend,
