ABSTRACT
I AGAIN take up the pen to write to you at the Chateau of Mons. du F—5 from which place I last year sent you the history of his-misfortunes; those misfortunes which have led me to love, as well as admire, the revolution. For you know we are so framed that, while we contemplate the deliverance of millions with a sublime emotion of wonder and exultation, the tears of tenderness, the throbbings of sympathy, are reserved for the moment when we select one happy family from the great national groupe, and when, amidst the loud acclamations of an innumerable multitude, we can distinguish the soothing founds of domestic felicity. I have beheld with aweful astonishment the sun of liberty spreading its broad blaze over the French hemisphere; but I’have traced with inexpressible delight that benignant beam which has chased every cloud of calamity from the dwelling of Mons. du F—.
