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CHAPTER V.
_A Startling Letter_
SOUTHEY, that virtuous man, whom Wisdom calls her own, somewhere thanks
God that he was not born to a great estate. We quite agree with the
seer of Keswick; it is a bore. Provided a man can enjoy every personal
luxury, what profits it that your flag waves on castles you never visit,
and that you count rents which you never receive? And yet there are some
things which your miserable, moderate incomes cannot command, and which
one might like to have; for instance, a band.
A complete, a consummate band, in uniforms of uncut white velvet, with
a highly-wrought gold button, just tipped with a single pink topaz,
appears to me [Greek phrase]. When we die, 'Band' will be found
impressed upon our heart, like 'Frigate' on the core of Nelson. The
negroes should have their noses bored, as well as their ears, and hung
with rings of rubies. The kettle-drums should be of silver. And with
regard to a great estate, no doubt it brings great cares; or, to get
free of them, the estate must be neglected, and then it is even worse.
Elections come on, and all your members are thrown out; so much for
neglected influence.
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