"When he came to Paris, he seemed resolved to stay till the 6th or 7th of next month. But at present the concourse about him gives him so much uneasiness that he expresses the utmost impatience to be gone. Many people here will have it that this solitary humour is all affectation, in order to be more sought after; but I am sure that it is natural and unsurmountable:[301:1] I know that two very agreeable ladies breaking in upon him, discomposed him so much that he was not able to eat his dinner afterwards. He is short-sighted; and I have often observed, that while he was conversing with me in the utmost good-humour, (for he is naturally gay,) if he heard the door open, the greatest agony appeared on his countenance, from the apprehension of a visit; and his distress did not leave him, unless the person was a particular friend. His Armenian dress is not affectation. He has had an infirmity from his infancy, which makes breeches inconvenient for him; and he told me, that when he was chased into the mountains of Switzerland, he took up this new dress, as it seemed indifferent what habit he there wore. I could fill a volume with curious anecdotes regarding him, as I live in the same society which he frequented while in Paris. But I must not exhaust your patience. My kind compliments to Ferguson, Robertson, and all the brethren. I am," &c. "_Paris, 28th Dec. 1765._" "P.S.--Be not surprised that I am going to say in my postscript, the direct contrary to what I said in my letter. There are four days of interval between my writing the one and the other; and on this subject of my future abode, I have not these four months risen and gone to bed in the same mind. When I meet with proofs of regard and affection from those I love and esteem here, I swear to myself that I shall never quit this place. An hour after, it occurs to me that I have then for ever renounced my native country and all my ancient friends, and I start with affright. I never yet left any place but with regret: judge what it is natural for me to feel on leaving Paris, and so many amiable people with whom I am intimately connected, while it is in my power to pass my life in the midst of them. Were I not indispensably obliged to go to London, I know that it would be impossible for me to leave this place. But it is very probable that being once there, and fairly escaped from the cave of Circe, I may reconcile myself again to the abode of Ithaca. I left Edinburgh with great reluctance. To return to it, after having tripled my revenue in less than three years, can be no hardship. I must, therefore, fairly warn you to remove from my house at Whitsunday. I have taken a house at Paris; but I will have one also in Edinburgh, and shall deliberate in London which of them I shall occupy. I shall not go to Ireland. The arrival of the Duke of Richmond was late; and this engagement with M. Rousseau protracts my return so long, that it will not be worth while to go to Dublin.