London, August 8, 1860.

I received your letter just as I was leaving for Glenquoich. It is unnecessary to tell you that it gave me no pleasure; but I shall not reproach you. At this moment I am preoccupied with something else, and that is, to find some means of bidding you farewell. You also must try to manage it so as to gain a little time; and I have no doubt that if we both set our wits to work we shall succeed in meeting and spending a few hours together.

The more I reflect on your expedition to Algeria the more foolish it seems to me. It is evident that with affairs in the Orient complicated as they are, and becoming every moment still more complicated, your brother may be obliged to leave at a moment’s notice, and you would find it embarrassing to remain alone among your Arabs. It seems to me highly probable that the landing of the French troops in Syria will be followed by a general outbreak of robberies and massacres throughout the Orient. It is equally reasonable to suppose that the Turkish provinces of Greece—that is, Thessaly, Macedonia, and Christian Albania—will make some movement in retaliation. Everything in the Orient will be on fire this winter. To go to Algiers at such a time, I repeat, seems to me the height of folly. Still, you might find during this journey some special attraction! Yet you seem now to hesitate about going....

The weather is atrocious. The sun shone yesterday for the first time since I arrived in England, but this morning, on awakening, I heard the beating of the rain upon my window. The barometer indicates a heavy rain, and I can not see a hundred feet away. With all this wind and rain and cold, I do not understand what will become of the wheat. The Times says four feet of snow has fallen at Inverness, where I am to spend next Monday night. Do you suppose there will be coal enough and tartans heavy enough to remedy all these miseries?

In spite of the gloomy, cold weather in Bath and its suburbs, I liked the country immensely. I saw hills standing out in clear outlines against the sky, magnificent trees, and a richness of verdure unequalled elsewhere, unless it is in the valleys of Switzerland. But all this is not to be compared with Saint-Cloud or Versailles in fine weather.

Good-bye, dear friend. I am very sad, and I should like to be angry, but I have no energy, so I shall not accuse you....

I send my Glenquoich address, but I shall not be there for several days: In care of the Right Honourable E. Ellice, Glenquoich, Fort Augustus.