Requesting you to pardon this digression I shall conclude my subject with a few short observations drawn from my former remarks. To those who are fond of the arts, and who devote their time to the pursuit, Paris offers objects of great interest and unequalled beauty. Persons who pass their lives in a career of dissipation, who are satisfied with public amusements, bought pleasures, and high play, will find here, decked in all the joys of variety, the means of gratifying their favourite wishes. To such as come to view the curiosities of the place, Paris will appear delightful during a residence of two or three months, as that time will be fully and agreeably occupied in examining its various institutions, and in visiting its different theatres, particularly if the traveller arrives in the beginning of spring, when the charms of nature are added to those of art. But to him whose attachments are centred within the circle of his own family, who is fond of the investigation of truth, and whose early days have been passed in the polished societies of London, Paris, after its great and striking beauties have once been sufficiently viewed, will appear comparatively tame, dull, and uninteresting. He will daily miss the freedom of conversation, which is so generally prevalent in England; he will look in vain for that manly sense, with which great national questions are discussed by men of education in London, he will be irritated by the flippancy of french politicians, and by the pedantic terms and laboured sentences, which take the place of sound argument and solid reasoning. He will find the amusements rather various than splendid. He will find society difficult when it is good, and dangerous when it is easy[97]. He will admire the grace and elegance of the ladies, and will look with an eye of pity, it not of contempt, on the indelicacy of their dress. He will hear “la bonne compagnie” talked of in every set, and never defined. He will perhaps at last discover that it only exists, where it does not assume the name, or as Voltaire says, “Qui ne s’appelle pas la bonne compagnie, mais qui l’est.” He will view with wonder and admiration the works of art, and see with no little pleasure and curiosity the extraordinary man now at the head of government. Such will be his principal sources of satisfaction at Paris. He will soon discover that every thing else, however blazoned out in the trappings of grandeur, or vamped up in the colouring of hyperbole, is only “air and empty nothing.” Adieu, my dear sir, I propose setting out to-morrow morning for Lyons, Switzerland, and Italy. You will, therefore, not hear from me again till I am far distant from this capital. I came here big with hope, and eager in expectation. I rejoice at having undertaken the journey, as it has afforded me much useful information, but I leave Paris without regret, and with but little desire of a speedy return.