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Letter №10 стр. 5

remained silent, our gallant Colonel felt his hand itch until it brought everything to light, and — plunged everything into darkness and consternation! . . . "Et voici pourquoi nous n'irons plus au bois," as the French song goes.

Did you write "tune"? Well, well; I must ask you to buy me a pair of spectacles in London. And yet — out of "time" or out of "tune" is all one, as it seems. But you ought to adopt my old fashioned habit of "little lines" over the "m's." Those bars are useful, even though "out of tune and time" with modern caligraphy. Besides, bear in mind, that these my letters, are not written but impressed or precipitated and then all mistakes corrected.

We will not discuss, at present, whether your aims and objects are so widely different from those of Mr. Hume's; but if he may be actuated by "a purer and broader philanthropy," the way he sets to work to achieve these aims will never carry him beyond pure theoretical disquisitions upon the subject. No use now in trying to represent him in any other light. His letter that you will soon read — is, as I say to himself, "a monument of pride and unconscious selfishness." He is too just and superior a man to be guilty of petty vanities; but his pride climbs like that of the mythical Lucifer; and, you may believe me — if I have any


Notes: 

Et voici pourquoi nous n'irons plus au bois is a phrase from a French song meaning "And this is why we will no longer go to the woods."