“You are very polite in supposing my looks not so homely as I described them; but tho’ my health is good, the faded roses do not revive, and I assure you I am always of the colour of _la feuille-morte_. My complexion has long fallen into the sere and yellow leaf; and I assure you one is as much warned against using art, by seeing the ladies of Paris, as the Spartan youths by observing the effects of intoxicating liquors on the Helots. The vast quantity of rouge worn there by the fine ladies makes them hideous. As I always imagine one is less looked at by wearing the uniform of the society one lives in, I allowed my frizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn. But a few years ago, I believe, my vanity could not have submitted to such a disfiguration. As soon as I got to Dover, I return’d to my former complexion. I own I think I could make that complexion a little better by putting on a little rouge; but at my age, any appearance of solicitude about complexion is absurd, and therefore I remain where age and former ill health have brought me; and rejoice that I enjoy the comforts of health, tho’ depriv’d of its pleasing looks. [Illustration: “I allowed my frizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn” _Photogravure after the painting by Girardet_] “I am very glad to find my neice has recovered her health. I was much afraid of a consumption for her.... It has given me great pleasure to hear your health is pretty good, ... but if St. Anthony’s fire should menace, remember that his distemper, as well as his temptation, is most dangerous in a desart or wilderness, and repair to the city of Bath. Tho’ I say this, I was never in my life more sensible of the charms of rural life and the blessings of tranquility, but at the same time I am sensible that my relish of them is much quickened by having been for a twelvemonth past in a very different mode of life. I regret very much that the emperor did not come to Paris last summer, tho’ I suppose, among the French nobility, I met with men as polite; among the academicians, with men more learned, ingenious, and witty; yet, as I am a Virtuoso in what relates to the human character, and love to see how it appears in various situations, I should have seen an emperor, as an emperor is an unique in human society at present; and the Austrian family has always had a strongly-marked personal character. All my French correspondents assure me that his Imperial Majesty veils his dignity on all occasions under the character of Count de Falkenstein. He sleeps at his ambassador’s, but dines with the two noblemen of his Court who attend him at an _Hôtel garnie_. When he goes to Versailles to visit his sister, he refuses to lodge in the palace, and lodges at a bagnio. He goes sometimes to Versailles in his coach; at others, in a fiacre, or walks. The French, who are much struck with everything that is new, are full of wonder and respect at the publick spectacles. They give a thunder of applause