‘One of the last,’ he continued, ’of that class of potentates was the Duchesse de Dino.  Her early married life was active and brilliant, but not intellectually.  It was not till about forty, when she had exhausted other excitements, that she took to bel esprit. But she performed her part as if she had been bred to it.’

This was our last conversation.  I left Paris the next day, and we never met again.

CORRESPONDENCE.

Tocqueville, June 30, 1858.

I must complain, a little of your silence, my dear Senior.  I hear that before you left Paris you suffered a great deal from your throat.  Is it true, or have you recovered?

I have not either much to boast of on the score of health since we parted.  The illness which I had in Paris became still worse, and when I got a little better in that way I had a violent bronchial attack.  I even began to spit blood, which had not happened to me for many years, and I am still almost reduced to silence.  Still I am beginning to mend, and I hope, please God, to be able to speak to my friends when they visit me.

You are aware that I wished to induce my wife to accompany me to the South; but the length of the journey, the difficulties of transport, the heat, and indeed the state of my health, were reasons which she brought forward with so much force that we have remained here, and shall not leave till the end of September.  We still hope that you and Miss Senior will join us the first week in that month.  We shall be very happy to have you both with us.  This is no compliment ...  I hope soon to be able to enjoy more frequent communication with my English friends.  A steamboat is about to run from Cherbourg to the coast of England.  We shall then be able to visit each other as neighbours (voisiner).

Between ourselves, I do not think that the events in England during the last six months are of a nature to raise the reputation of Parliamentary Government in the rest of the world. A bientot!

A. DE TOCQUEVILLE.

Kensington, July 5, 1858.

My dear Tocqueville,—­If I had written to you three days ago, I should have talked of the pleasure which my daughter and I expected from our visit to Tocqueville.  But our plans are changed.  Edward Ellice is going to pay a last visit to America, and has begged me to accompany him.  He is a great proprietor in both America and Canada—­knows everybody in both countries, and is besides a most able and interesting companion.  So I have accepted the proposal, and start on the 30th of this month for Boston.  We shall return in the beginning of November.

I am very sorry to lose the visit to Normandy, but I trust that it is only deferred.

We are grieved to hear that neither you nor Madame de Tocqueville are as well as your friends could wish you to be.

My grippe, after lasting for three months, has gradually subsided, and I look to the voyage to America as a cure for all remains of it.