Faut-il que je m’egaye toujours? Combien cela est triste! Mais, soyons heureux c’est encore bien plus difficile. Egayons-nous pourtant. Pourquoi?—La reine le veut!
The Clitheroes are just gone with
Bowen for the Giant’s Causeway, the latter
returns in the middle of next week; the former promise to repeat their visit
soon. Oglander and the Major are gone shooting: and the
little tail of nobility, Miss Butler and
I, are going to ride if the weather permit. I really was glad you were not with us last night. We played magical music,
“What’s my Thought like?” and many other games equally amusing, for three or four hours; you would have
been bored to death, as was almost your poor Mortimer. They made Lord
Abercorn go out frequently, and
though he was bored as bad as man could be, he did it with an ease and grace
that was very pleasing; he certainly is thoroughly a gentleman on those points.
Miss Butler seems thoroughly determined to go to
Dublin, and then what will become of us? Che
farò senza mio ben, we shall be given up to
melancholy. What will become of me? io morirò—ahi!
ben mio, how happy should I be could I behold thee and be near thee,
and see thee with thy dear family, but what useless wishes, I love thee
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