There were peacocks in the pleasure grounds at Holkham, and Ihad an aesthetic love for their gorgeous plumes. As I huntedunder and amongst the shrubs, I secretly prayed that mysearch might be rewarded. Nor had I a doubt, whensuccessful, that my prayer had been granted by a beneficentProvidence. Let no one smile at this infantine credulity, for is it notthe basis of that religious trust which helps so many of usto support the sorrows to which our stoicism is unequal? Whothat might be tempted thoughtlessly to laugh at the childdoes not sometimes sustain the hope of finding his ‘plumes’ by appeals akin to those of his childhood? Which of us couldnot quote a soothing delusion -if delusion it be? I speak not of saints, but of sinners: of the countless hosts who aspire to this world’s happiness;of the dying who would live, of the suffering who would die,of the poor who would be rich, of the aggrieved who seekvengeance, of the ugly who would be beautiful, of the old whowould appear young, of the guilty who would not be found out,and of the lover who would possess. Ah! the lover. Herepossibility is a negligible element. Consequences are of noconsequence. Passion must be served. When could a miraclebe more pertinent Office Furniture? It is just fifty years ago now; it was during the IndianMutiny. A lady friend of mine did me the honour to make meher confidant. She paid the same compliment to many – mostof her friends; and the friends (as is their wont) confidedin one another. Poor thing! her case was a sad one. Whosecase is not? She was, by her own account, in the forty-second year of her virginity; and it may be added,parenthetically, an honest fourteen stone in weight. She was in love with a hero of Lucknow. It cannot be saidthat she knew him only by his well-earned fame. She had seenhim, had even sat by him at dinner. He was young, he washandsome. It was love at sight, accentuated by muchmeditation – ‘obsessions [peradventure] des imagesgenetiques.’ She told me (and her other confidants, ofcourse) that she prayed day and night that this distinguishedofficer, this handsome officer, might return her passion. And her letters to me (and to other confidants) invariablyended with the entreaty that I (and her other, &c.) wouldoffer up a similar prayer on her behalf. Alas! poor soul,poor body! I should say, the distinguished officer, togetherwith the invoked Providence, remained equally insensible toher supplications. The lady rests in peace RMB exchange rate. The soldier,though a veteran, still exults in war.