That same influenza which I left at Berlin, I have had the hard
fortune again to find here; and many people die of it. It is as yet
very cold for the time of the year, and I am obliged every day to
have a fire. I must own that the heat or warmth given by sea-coal,
burnt in the chimney, appears to me softer and milder than that
given by our stoves. The sight of the fire has also a cheerful and
pleasing effect. Only you must take care not to look at it
steadily, and for a continuance, for this is probably the reason
that there are so many young old men in England, who walk and ride
in the public streets with their spectacles on; thus anticipating,
in the bloom of youth, those conveniences and comforts which were
intended for old age.

I now constantly dine in my own lodgings; and I cannot but flatter
myself that my meals are regulated with frugality. My usual dish at
supper is some pickled salmon, which you eat in the liquor in which
it is pickled, along with some oil and vinegar; and he must be
prejudiced or fastidious who does not relish it as singularly well
tasted and grateful food.

I would always advise those who wish to drink coffee in England, to
mention beforehand how many cups are to be made with half an ounce;
or else the people will probably bring them a prodigious quantity of
brown water; which (notwithstanding all my admonitions) I have not
yet been able wholly to avoid. The fine wheaten bread which I find
here, besides excellent butter and Cheshire-cheese, makes up for my
scanty dinners. For an English dinner, to such lodgers as I am,
generally consists of a piece of half-boiled, or half-roasted meat;
and a few cabbage leaves boiled in plain water; on which they pour a