On our way home we had another and more terrible spectacle, gratis. A lofty column of lurid smoke poured from a chimney, and soon became tinged with blue, red and green;--the nearer we came the thicker and more variegated it ascended, like one of the Chinese fireworks we had just seen. "Probably," said I to R----, "a chemical laboratory, if it be not indeed a fire in earnest." Hardly had I said the words when my fears were fulfilled. Cries resounded from all sides, the flames streamed wildly forth towards heaven, the people flocked together, and fire-engines soon rattled through the streets. But the huge city swallows up all particular incidents,--five hundred steps further, and the fire in the neighbourhood excited no interest whatever; the guests in an illumined mansion danced merrily, the play-goers walked quietly home, and all traces of alarm or sympathy were lost. But, my dear Julia, 'il faut que tout finesse'--and so must my long narrative, which certainly furnishes you with a sheet for every year of my life. That it ends with fire you must take as an emblem of ardent love,--and here it is not necessary, as your superstition requires, to exclaim "In a good hour be it said." Every hour, even the most unfortunate, is good--where love is. Your L----. LETTER XI. _London, Jan. 19th, 1827._ DEAREST JULIA, R---- left London to-day for Harwich, and will be with you in a fortnight. I know how glad you will be to have a living witness of the sayings and doings of your L----; one whom you can question about so many things which, even with the best intentions cannot always find place in letters. I have now settled myself into a town life again. Yesterday I dined with Prince E----, where the---- secretary of legation kept us in an incessant laugh. He is a kind of agreeable buffoon, and although of very mean extraction, a superlative ultra; ('tel le maitre, tel le valet.') I have often admired the talent of the French, and envied it too, for making the most amusing stories out of the most common-place incidents;--such as lose all their salt coming from any mouth but theirs. Nobody possesses this talent in a higher degree than Monsieur R----. He affords another proof that it is entirely the result of a language so admirably adapted to produce it, and of an education which springs from the same source; for Monsieur R---- is a German--I think a Swabian; but was brought to France when only two years old, and educated as a Frenchman. Language makes the man, more than blood;--though 'tis true, blood has first made the language.