* * * * * You have no sooner a
guinea in London than you have none. In
addition to the ways and means I pointed out
in my last, gather together the letters I wrote
you from Paris, and offer them to the booksellers.
There are enough, if you have preserved
them, for two volumes. I had partly the intention,
in writing these letters, to dress them up
one day into some kind of shape for the Public.
I am not certain they are fit to be seen in their
present dishabille--but leave that to the purchaser.
A pretty woman slip-shod is a pretty
woman still, and she is not so much improved
as you think by her court dress. Tell the
Public I do not mean them for _great things_: I
am no critic, no politician, no political economist;
but only, as Shakspeare would say,
“a snapper up of inconsiderate trifles.” Under
this title I have the honour to be, with the most
perfect consideration, the Public’s very obedient,
humble servant.