I
likewise wrote to Bennoch, though I know not his present address; but I
should deeply grieve to leave England without seeing him. He and Henry
Bright are the only two men in England to whom I shall be much grieved to
bid farewell; but to the island itself I cannot bear to say that word as
a finality. I shall dreamily hope to come back again at some indefinite
time; rather foolishly perhaps, for it will tend to take the substance
out of my life in my own land. But this, I suspect, is apt to be the
penalty of those who stay abroad and stay too long.
HAVRE.
Hotel Wheeler, June 22d.--We arrived at this hotel last evening from
Paris, and find ourselves on the borders of the Petit Quay Notre Dame,
with steamers and boats right under our windows, and all sorts of
dock-business going on briskly. There are barrels, bales, and crates of
goods; there are old iron cannon for posts; in short, all that belongs to
the Wapping of a great seaport. . . . . The American partialities of the
guests [of this hotel] are consulted by the decorations of the parlor, in
which hang two lithographs and colored views of New York, from Brooklyn
and from Weehawken.
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