The afternoon was more satisfactory.--I climbed the hills around the town, and at last crept up to the top of a windmill in order to see the whole panorama of Brighton. The wind turned the sails of the mill with such force that the whole building rocked like a ship. The miller's lad, who had shown me the way up, went to a flourbin and took out a telescope. Spite of its soft bed, it was unhappily broken. I was however well satisfied with the general view, enlivened as it was by hundreds of fishing-boats which seemed struggling with the storm, and hastened back with the sinking sun to my social duties. The party at Count F----'s was small but interesting; it was rendered so in the first place by the host himself; then by a lady celebrated for her beauty; and lastly, by a former well-known leader of 'ton' in Paris. In his youth he played a considerable part there, and was at the same time constantly implicated in political affairs. He now passes a great part of the year in England, probably still not without political views. He is one of that sort of men, daily becoming more rare, who live in great style, one knows not how; contrive to acquire a sort of authority everywhere, one knows not why; and under whom one always expects to find something mysterious, one knows not wherefore. ---- is very agreeable, at least when he chooses: he narrates admirably, and has forgotten nothing of his eventful life which can give zest to his conversation. For adventurers of this high order, whose consummate knowledge of the world affords continual matter for admiration, (though generally employed only to make dupes,) the French character is better suited than any other. Their agreeableness in society smooths their way; and their not over warm hearts and oeconomical understandings, (if I may use the expression,) admirably enable them to keep all the ground they have won, and to maintain a firm footing on it for ever. The clever man of whom I am now speaking plays also very agreeably; and jestingly declares, like Fox, that after the pleasure of winning, he knows no greater than that of losing. We talked a great deal about Napoleon, of whom our host, like all who lived long in immediate intercourse with him, could not speak without veneration. He mentioned a circumstance which struck me. The Emperor, he said, was so incredibly exhausted by the violent excitement of the Hundred Days and the events that succeeded them, that on his retreat from Waterloo, in the early part of which he was protected by a batallion of his 'Garde,' he proceeded very slowly, and without any precipitation (quite contrary to our version of the affair.) Two or three times he fell asleep on his horse; and would have fallen off, had not Count F---- himself held him on. But the Count declared that, except by this complete corporeal exhaustion, he never exhibited the slightest mark of internal agitation. _February 14th._