I begin by seeing the beautiful in most people, and then comes the disillusion.

It isn't caprice or unsteadiness; oh no! it's merely _fate_.

_My_ fate, I mean.
Alas, my bubbles, my bubbles! But I'm growing too original, and will break off.

My Emperor at least has not deceived me, and I'm going into the fire for him with a little 'brochure' of political poems, which you shall take at Chapman's with the last edition of 'Aurora' when you go to England.

Thank you a hundred times from both Robert and me for the interesting relation of Cobden's sayings on him.