To-morrow, we go to a mountain; but no great expectation of sport.

Your's, ever, my dear wife,

W.H.




XV.


Persano, Wednesday,
[Jan. 18th, 1792.]

It was not your white and silver, alone, that made you look like an
angel, at the Academy. Suppose you had put it on nine parts out of ten
of the ladies in company, would any one have appeared angelic?

I will allow, however, that a beautiful woman, feeling herself well
dressed, will have a sort of confidence, which will add greatly to the
lustre of her eye: but take my word, that, for some years to come,
the more simply you dress, the more conspicuous will be your beauty;
which, according to my idea, is the most perfect I have yet met with,
take it all in all.

It is long-faced day with the King. We went far; the weather was bad;
and, after all, met with little or no game: I did not fire off my gun.