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January 12th, 1819 AD (search for this): chapter 13
obliged to come back to Paris, to find books and means neither Spain nor Portugal would afford me. But so it is, and I have at this moment on my table six volumes, and shall, before I leave Paris, have many more, which I sought in vain in the libraries of the capital, of Seville, and Granada; and yet, so unequally are the treasures of these languages distributed, that the better half is still wanting in Paris, where the rarest is to be found. Journal. Paris, December 10, 1818, to January 12, 1819. Summary such as he made at the end of his visits in other cities.—The dinner-hour at Paris is six o'clock or half past 6. I always dined in company, generally either at Count Pastoret's, at the Duc de Duras', at the Count de Ste. Aulaire's, or, if I had no special engagement, at the Duc de Broglie's, on whose table I always had a plate. Dinner is not so solemn an affair at Paris as it is almost everywhere else. It is soon over, you come out into the salon, take coffee and talk, an
October 29th (search for this): chapter 13
ys, just long enough to make a few arrangements and get out my passport, and then go as fast as I can to Paris. On board the packet I wrote to Mr. Gallatin, desiring him to take out the order for opening the king's library to me, an operation that occupies a week. . . . . In a month, I should think, everything will be finished, and then, returning through London,. . . . I shall make all haste to Edinburgh. . . . . To Mr. Elisha Ticknor. Paris, December 22, 1818. Yours of the 16th—29th October, my dear father, arrived since I last wrote you, and, what is better, one from Savage of November 9, both of which speak of great improvement in my mother's health. They have, therefore, removed a great load from my fears, and I feel now as if I had once more the free exercise of my faculties. I have received the necessary permission at the king's library, and am in full operation among its great treasures. I have, besides, made the acquaintance of Moratin, an exiled Spaniard, who is
December 2nd, 1818 AD (search for this): chapter 13
and in the public library; and if it depended on nobody but myself,. . . . I could be gone on the 13th. November 13. Yesterday I received, my dearest father, yours of September 30. I cannot tell you what a consolation it was to me to hear that my mother is better. Lisbon itself looks brighter with my brightened thoughts, and even the sad, rainy weather is less tiresome. I hope a packet will sail the 16th. If it does, I shall set off at once. To Mr. Elisha Ticknor. London, December 2, 1818. I wrote to you, dearest father and mother, on the 20th of last month, from Lisbon. The day after, I sailed in the packet and came to anchor in Falmouth Harbor on the evening of the 28th;. . . . and as I once more put my foot upon kindred ground, I could have fallen down and embraced it, like Julius Caesar, for, as I have often told you, once well out of Spain and Portugal, I feel as if I were more than half-way home, even though I have the no very pleasant prospect of returning for
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