The worthy gentleman seemed pleased with the nobility of my disposition; and after a long talk I had with him, in which I explained to him all I intended to do, he was so kind as to say that he thought a good deal might be made out of the subject. So that I had the proud satisfaction of finding that I had not used my abilities in vain, for he at last, in a most gentlemanly way, not only consented to publish my interesting little work for me, but was also good enough to suggest that it should be illustrated; and actually was so polite as to give me a letter to that highly-talented artist, Mr. George Cruikshank, though I told him that I was afraid he would be too funny for a work of so serious a character. But he quelled all my doubts, by telling me that Mr. Cruikshank was a man of such versatile genius, that he was sure that the drawings from his intellectual pencil would be quite in keeping with the book; so, taking the letter of introduction, I left Mr. B----e, (my publisher,) quite charmed with the conquest I had made. * * * * * _Moral reflection after writing the above._--It has been very truly remarked, by the greatest philosophers of our time, and it is likewise my opinion, that London is the finest city in this transitory world. But I cannot help observing, that Fleet-street, as it stands at present, is a crying evil, and a perfect disgrace to it. Is it not wonderful, that in these enlightened times, so little attention should be paid to the feelings of fair woman, at the crossings of this great metropolis? Englishmen, ever since charming Raleigh took his cloak off his very back, to prevent sweet Elizabeth soiling her lovely feet, have been acknowledged to be a highly polite and intellectual nation; but the way in which I was jostled and hustled, and pushed about, by a set of low London barbarians, who once or twice knocked my beautiful best black velvet bonnet nearly off my head, makes me fear that we are all going backwards, (if I might be allowed the expression,) and that our boasted civilization is only a golden dream and a fib. What the Lord Mayor can be about, at the crossings in the City, I am at a loss to say. As they are at present regulated, it seems to me as if the civic authorities were all asleep at their posts. Three times did I attempt to get across the street, from Mr. B----’s, and three times was I driven back by the bears who are permitted to drive the omnibuses and cabs of the first city in Europe. Though the fellows saw my distress, they never once offered to stop and make way for a lone, unprotected female, but only seemed to take a savage delight in my alarms. And even when I did get across, I’m sure it was at the peril of my very life. It’s only a wonder to me that I didn’t go into hysterics in the middle of the road; and however people, who have weak constitutions of their own, can manage to get over it, is an inscrutable mystery to me. * * * * *