It may appear strange to those who are fond of friendships, and who cling ardently to them, to learn that, despite my loneliness, I had not a dull moment. Nature was very beautiful to my soul, its forms and changes most entrancing. I cared little for the great towns and cities. The modes of life therein, especially those which were exemplified by the absurd lengths and extravagances to which fashion drives its votaries, excited in me a very sincere contempt, and I was amazed that people could be so blind to the sweetest joys of existence. I visited the theatres, but they had, for the most part, no fascination for me. I saw great actresses associated with buffoons, and often themselves buffooning; I followed, at first with interest, the efforts of a be-puffed actress, who rose to the terrors and the beauties of her part in one fine scene, and did not consider the rest of her mimic life, as depicted on the boards, worth the trouble of consistency; I was present at the performance of dramas which were absolutely false in their action and sentiment. What pleased me best were the short poetical episodes, occupying less than an hour in their representation, and in which two or three good actors sustained and preserved the unities in excellent style. But these were side dishes, and only served to bring into stronger relief the larger and grosser fare provided for the intellectual education of the masses. I went to the opera, and could only enjoy it by shutting my eyes, so many absurdities were forced upon my sight: and as this drew unpleasant attention upon me, I was compelled to deprive myself of the enjoyment. I strolled into the gambling saloons, and gazed in amazement upon the faces of men and women in which the lowest passions were depicted. Human nature in those places was degraded and belittled. "Is there some mysterious hidden sweetness in this many-sided frenzy?" I asked myself, and I staked my money, and endeavoured to discover it; but the game did not stir my pulses; I lost or won with indifference. I soon tired of it, and bade adieu to the rooms, with a sigh of compassion and contempt for the slaves who fretted their hearts therein. My chiefest pleasures were experienced in small villages in mountain and valley, where there was so little attraction for the ordinary tourist that he seldom lingered there. I delighted in primitiveness and simplicity, where human baseness had the fewest opportunities to thrive, and where human goodness was the least likely to be spoilt by publicity. It was in these places that I came to the conclusion that the largest amount of happiness is to be found among small communities. But although I was consistent, up to a certain period, in declining all offers of intimacy and friendship, it happened that I was to come into contact with a man for whom, in a short space of time, I grew to have a very close regard. His name was Louis, by profession a doctor, by descent a German.