He comes home almost every day with a drawing or painting--probably of little value; for I know he lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows his poverty.

His only son, who was married in England, is just dead, and his widow--left without any means, and with an old mother and a child--had written to beg for a home.

M.Antoine asked me first to translate the letter, and then to write a refusal.

I had promised that he should have this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our promises.
The sheet of "Bath" paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the ink, and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I perceive that I have not my dictionary.

Now, a Parisian who would speak English without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings; the ground trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step.