The news of the cholera is bad; it has got to Sweden _viâ_ Finland, and at Berlin in three days thirty out of the sixty sick have died. There has been enough ado about it in Paris for M. Perier to make his appearance there on horseback in his ministerial uniform; his presence had a good effect. It seems that the Belgian business is definitely settled, and M. de Talleyrand was saying yesterday that he would be in France at the end of October. But I have already seen so many ups and downs in these affairs that I no longer profess to predict anything a week ahead. _Tunbridge Wells, September 16, 1831._--I have just been visiting Eridge Castle,[2] which belongs to a rich and misanthropic octogenarian much persecuted by misfortune. His title is Earl of Abergavenny, but his family name is Neville. He is a cousin of Lord Warwick; the celebrated "King maker" was a Neville, and Eridge Castle was his. At a later date Queen Elizabeth was feasted there. [2] Eridge Castle is in the county of Sussex, and still belongs to the Abergavenny family. The foundations of the castle are ancient, and it has been restored in the ancient style, with great care, by the present owner. The effect of the whole is perfectly harmonious, and every detail is rich and elegant. The perfection of the carving and the beauty of the stained glass are wonderful. Lord Abergavenny's own apartments are extremely dismal. The castle occupies a very high point on the top of a hill, with a lake twenty acres in extent at the foot. But the low ground is surrounded by hills which are even higher than the one in the centre, on which the castle stands, and which are all covered with trees so splendid, so numerous, and stretching for so many miles, that they form a veritable forest. I have never seen a prospect so romantically wooded and at the same time so profoundly melancholy. It is not English, still less is it French; it is the Black Forest, it is Bohemia. I have never seen ivy like that which covers the towers, the balconies, and indeed the whole building. In short, I rave about it. In the park, in the heart of a clump of tall and very sombre fir-trees, there is a mineral spring exactly like that at Tunbridge; and the park itself is not only full of deer but has also stags, any number of cows and sheep, and a fine herd of buffaloes.