I will dine with you, dear Mrs. Grote, on the 11th, with great pleasure.
The “Great Western” turns out very well,—grand, simple, cold, slow, wise, and good. I have been introduced to Miss ——; she abuses the privilege of literary women to be plain; and, in addition, has the true Kentucky twang through the nose, converting that promontory into an organ of speech. How generous the conduct of Mrs. ——, who, as a literary woman, might be ugly if she chose, but is as decidedly handsome as if she were profoundly ignorant! I call such conduct honourable.
You shall have a real philosophical breakfast here; all mind-and-matter men. I am truly glad, my dear Mrs. Grote, to add you to the number of my friends (i.e. if you will be added). I saw in the moiety of a moment that you were made of fine materials, and put together by a master workman; and I ticketed you accordingly. But do not let me deceive you; if you honour me with your notice, you will find me a theologian and a bigot, even to martyrdom.
Heaven forbid I should deny the right of Miss
| 420 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
I do not preach at St. Paul’s before the first Sunday in July; send me word (if you please) if you intend to come, and I (as the Americans say) will locate you. But do not flatter yourself with the delusive hope of a slumber; I preach violently, and there is a strong smell of sulphur in my sermons. I could not get Lady —— to believe you did not know her; she evidently considered it affectation. Why do you not consult Dr. Turnbull upon tic-douloureux? I told you a long story about it, of which, I thought at the time, you did not hear a single word.
Adieu, dear Mrs. Grote! Always, with best compliments to Mr. Grote, very sincerely yours,
