"I some time ago had the pleasure of an introduction to the celebrated Mademoiselle Mars. She received me very cordially, and through her polite offices the freedom of the Théâtre Français was presented to me. Of all the actresses I have ever seen, M'lle Mars stands first in comedy. In her you perceive the natural ease and grace which should characterize the most finished lady of the drawing-room; and her quiet yet effective style of acting is the most enchanting and delicate triumph of the mimic art. You cannot witness one of her performances without thinking that the genius of comedy belongs exclusively to the French stage. Do not suppose that my opinion is influenced by personal attentions: it was formed before I had had the pleasure of being presented to her. Though possessing a splendid fortune, she still exerts, fortunately for the lovers of the drama, her unrivalled talents in her laborious and difficult profession. She lives in a palace, and even her _salle du billard_ is an apartment which would well serve for a corporation dinner. "The great and almost the only topic of conversation in all circles just now is the President's message, the recall of the French minister, and the intimation to Mr. Livingston that his passports were at his service. Allow a little time for the effervescence of public feeling to subside, for the excitable temper of this mercurial nation to grow calm, and I think the propriety of paying our claims will be acknowledged. "While I scribble this desultory letter to you, I am with you in fancy, and almost wish I were so in reality. I am tired of the glare and frivolities of Paris, and long to tread again 'The piled leaves of the West,-- My own green forest land.' "France is refined and polite; America is solid and sincere. France is the land for pleasure; America the land for happiness. Adieu. I shall go into Italy in a fortnight, from whence I will write you again." The following letter, addressed to another friend, was written about three weeks after the foregoing one: