I have been obliged to relate as much about my journey out of London here as I probably shall in Germany of all England in general.  To most people to whom I give an account of my journey, what I have seen is quite new.  I must, however, here insert a few remarks on the elocution, or manner of speaking, of this country, which I had forgot before to write to you.

English eloquence appears to me not to be nearly so capable of so much variety and diffusion as ours is.  Add to this, in their Parliamentary speeches, in sermons in the pulpit, in the dialogues on the stage; nay, even in common conversation, their periods at the end of a sentence are always accompanied by a certain singular uniform fall of the voice, which, notwithstanding its monotony has in it something so peculiar, and so difficult, that I defy any foreigner ever completely to acquire it.  Mr. Leonhardi in particular seemed to me, in some passages which he repeated out of Hamlet, to have learnt to sink his voice in the true English manner; yet any one might know from his speaking that he is not an Englishman.  The English place the accent oftener on the adjectives than they do on the substantive, which, though undoubtedly the most significant word in any sentence, has frequently less stress laid on it than you hear laid on mere epithets.  On the stage they pronounce the syllables and words extremely distinct, so that at the theatres you may always gain most instruction in English elocution and pronunciation.

This kingdom is remarkable for running into dialect:  even in London they are said to have one.  They say, for example, “it a’nt” instead of “it is not;” “I don’t know,” for “I do not know;” “I don’t know him,” for “I do not know him;” the latter of which phrases has often deceived me, as I mistook a negative for an affirmative.

The word “sir,” in English, has a great variety of significations.  With the appellation of “sir,” an Englishman addresses his king, his friend, his foe, his servant, and his dog; he makes use of it when asking a question politely; and a member of Parliament, merely to fill up a vacancy, when he happens to be at a loss.  “Sir?” in an inquiring tone of voice, signifies what is your desire?  “Sir!” in a humble tone—­gracious Sovereign!—­“Sir!” in surly tone, a box on the ear at your service!  To a dog it means a good beating.  And in a speech in Parliament, accompanied by a pause, it signifies, I cannot now recollect what it is I wish to say farther.

I do not recollect to have heard any expression repeated oftener than this, “Never mind it!” A porter one day fell down, and cut his head on the pavement:  “O, never mind it!” said an Englishman who happened to be passing by.  When I had my trunk fetched from the ship in a boat, the waterman rowed among the boats, and his boy, who stood at the head of his boat, got a sound drubbing, because the others would not let him pass:  “O, never mind it!” said the old one, and kept rowing on.