London, December 4, 1852.

My dear Tocqueville,--Your letter of November 13 is, I think, the first
that I have received from you since March.

That which you addressed to me at Kensington, two months ago, did not
reach me. I have written to you one or two; I do not know with what
success.

I grieve to hear of rheumatism and pleurisy. You say nothing of Madame de
Tocqueville, whence I hope that I may infer that she, at least, is well.

We have all been flourishing. We passed the vacation in Wales and
Ireland, and brought back a curious journal,[4] which I hope to send or
bring to you.

I do not think that I shall venture to Paris at Christmas, though Ellice
and Thiers are trying to persuade me. I have too vivid a recollection of
the fog, cold, and dirt of last year; but I fully resolve to be with you
at Easter--that is, about March 24.

The present Government, with all its want of principle and truth, and
with all its want of experience, is doing much better than I expected.

The law reforms are far bolder than any that _my_ friends ever proposed,
and the budget, which was brought forward last night, contains more that
is good, and less that is bad, than was hoped or feared.

Its worst portion is the abolition of half the malt tax, which leaves all