This is a blunt acknowledgment of my intentions; but
as travellers are never sociable till they have cast aside the formalities
of compliment, I wished to start with you at the first stage as an old
acquaintance. The course is not usual, and, therefore, I adopt it; and it
was by thus stepping out of a common street into a common hostel that I
became possessed of the _materiel_ of those papers, which I trust will
hereafter tend to cheat many into a momentary forgetfulness of some care.
I have no other ambition; there are philosophers enough to mystify or
enlighten the world without my "nose of Turk and Tartar's lips" being
thrust into the cauldron, whose
--"Charms of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth, boil and bubble."
I had buttoned myself snugly in my Petersham (may the tailor who invented
_that_ garment "sleep well" whenever he "wears the churchyard livery,
grass-green turned up with brown!") The snow--the beautiful snow--fell
pure and noiselessly on the dirty pavement. Ragged, blue-faced urchins
were scrambling the pearly particles together, and, with all the joyous
recklessness of healthier childhood, carrying on a war less fatal but more
glorious than many that have made countless widows and orphans, and,
_perhaps, one_ hero.
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