_Paris, Nov. 16, 1846._--I meant to write on my arrival in London, six
weeks ago; but as it was not what is technically called "the season,"
I thought I had best send all my letters of introduction at once, that
I might glean what few good people I could. But more than I expected
were in town. These introduced others, and in three days I was engaged
in such a crowd of acquaintance, that I had hardly time to dress, and
none to sleep, during all the weeks I was in London.
I enjoyed the time extremely. I find myself much in my element in
European society. It does not, indeed, come up to my ideal, but so
many of the encumbrances are cleared away that used to weary me in
America, that I can enjoy a freer play of faculty, and feel, if not
like a bird in the air, at least as easy as a fish in water.
In Edinburgh, I met Dr. Brown. He is still quite a young man, but with
a high ambition, and, I should think, commensurate powers. But all is
yet in the bud with him. He has a friend, David Scott, a painter,
full of imagination, and very earnest in his views of art. I had some
pleasant hours with them, and the last night which they and I passed
with De Quincey, a real grand _conversazione_, quite in the Landor
style, which lasted, in full harmony, some hours.