As I am tormented on all sides to dance, (a German who does not waltz appears incomprehensible here,) and do not like it, I have given out that I am restrained by a vow, and leave it to be inferred that it is a tender one. The ladies do not know how to reconcile this with the persuasion that I came here in search of a wife, which they stoutly maintain. Thank Heaven! I find my tranquillity quite undisturbed. * * * A poor Englishman here is in much worse plight. He threw himself off the pier to-day, being, as the English say, 'crossed in love,' and only yesterday he was dancing as if stung by a tarantula. The poor fellow must have been like the turkeys that are made to dance ballets in Paris by being set on a metal plate, under which a fire is lighted. The spectator who sees their convulsive bounds, thinks they are very merry, while the poor things are burning by inches. I have often complained that Brighton has no vegetation; but the sun sets in the sea, and the cloud-pictures by which they are accompanied, exceed all I ever beheld in variety. To-day it had rained all day, and in the evening, when it cleared up, a dark range of mountains formed itself above the watery mirror, gradually acquiring a firmer consistency as the sun reached the highest peak, and broke through the black masses as if with clefts of flaming gold; I thought I saw Vesuvius again, streaming with lava. After I had attended this magnificent 'coucher' of the monarch of the heavens till its last moment, I wandered about the bare downs till it was perfectly dark, scouring hill and dale on my swift steed. Probably he too had pictures in his fancy which urged him to greater speed,--enticing visions of oats and hay. _March 14th._[49] These everlasting balls, concerts, dinners, and promenades, I cannot call exactly tedious, but time-killing. Meanwhile a poor dying man has taken up his abode in my house; and his groans and complaints, which all night long reach me through the thin walls, form too sharp and melancholy a contrast with this abode of frivolity and dissipation. I can do nothing for him, so I shall leave the house to-morrow for London. I have received both your letters, and am heartily grieved to hear that both cook and doctor are wanting at your baths. You must do everything you can to get both these important chemists, (destined by Nature to play into each other's hands,) as soon as possible, and of the best quality. You know that a celebrated French physician, the first time he was called into a house, always began by running into the kitchen, embracing the cook, and thanking him for a new patient.