ABSTRACT
Fifteen days have elapsed since I put pen to paper & what an age it seems. We measure time in our minds by the number of events that transpire, & how thickly they have been crowded into the last few days. We got ashore on Monday (11th June), a fine clear afternoon & took up our quarters for the night at the ‘Royal George' Portsmouth. The first man I saw that I knew was James W. Webb. 1 I passed him two or three times without speaking, when to my surprise he came rushing up to me with his hand extended & enquired after my health &c &c. I did not take his proffered hand and received him very coldly. He enquired where I should stay in London & tendered me the use of his rooms at Fenton's, St James Street till his return from Paris the 25th ins t which I declined. What an uncomfortable feeling it is to have favours tendered by one whom one despises & dislikes.
