After spending a few days in one of the more retired hotels of Monte
Carlo, we went on to Mentone and settled at the Hotel Mirabeau, long
since, I believe, defunct, near the eastern extremity of the town.
The little American girl mentioned in the last paragraph is the same
we shall meet later under her full name of Marie Johnstone.
_[Hotel Mirabeau, Menton], January 2nd, 1874._
Here I am over in the east bay of Mentone, where I am not altogether
sorry to find myself. I move so little that I soon exhaust the
immediate neighbourhood of my dwelling places. Our reason for coming
here was however very simple. Hobson's choice. Mentone during my absence
has filled marvellously.
Continue to address P. R.[11] Menton; and try to conceive it as possible
that I am not a drivelling idiot. When I wish an address changed, it is
quite on the cards that I shall be able to find language explicit enough
to express the desire. My whole desire is to avoid complication of
addresses. It is quite fatal. If two P. R.'s have contradictory orders
they will continue to play battledoor and shuttlecock with an unhappy
epistle, which will never get farther afield but perish there miserably.
You act too much on the principle that whatever I do is done unwisely;
and that whatever I do not, has been culpably forgotten. This is
wounding to my nat'ral vanity.
I have not written for three days I think; but what days! They were very
cold; and I must say I was able thoroughly to appreciate the blessings
of Mentone. Old Smoko this winter would evidently have been very summary
with me. I could not stand the cold at all. I exhausted all my own and
all Colvin's clothing; I then retired to the house, and then to bed; in
a condition of sorrow for myself unequalled. The sun is forth again
(laus Deo) and the wind is milder, and I am greatly re-established. A
certain asperity of temper still lingers, however, which Colvin supports
with much mildness.
In this hotel, I have a room on the first floor! Luxury, however, is not
altogether regardless of expense. We only pay 13 francs per day--3-1/2
more than at the Pavillon on the third floor.--And beggars must not be
choosers. We were very nearly houseless, the night we came. And it is
rarely that such winds of adversity blow men into king's Palaces.
Looking over what has gone before, it seems to me that it is not
strictly polite. I beg to withdraw all that is offensive.
At _table d'hote_, we have some people who amuse us much; two Americans,
who would try to pass for French people, and their daughter, the most
charming of little girls. Both Colvin and I have planned an abduction
already. The whole hotel is devoted to her; and the waiters continually
do smuggle out comfits and fruit and pudding to her.
All well.--Ever your affectionate son,