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12 Green Street, Ardwick, Manchester, August 3, 1875
Dear Berganza,
Were you not the celebrated Don Berganza and were I not Don Cipion, the two of us the sole members of the Spanish Academy, what would you think of him who, having dispossessed you of part of your money, then [did not] write to you, as if he had been swallowed up by the waves of the Germanic sea? But that is not what happened, I am well, on that blessed island which they call England, and I have not written to you because all my time is taken up with talking, walking, eating, and drinking. I am staying with my older brother and his family, my nephews and beautiful nieces, and sometimes I see my younger brother, who three years ago took an intelligent and lovable wife;1 I look at the streets, the places of entertainment, the buildings and the people of this city, which, having six hundred thousand inhabitants, is bigger than Vienna and could be divided into fifteen Leipzigs.2 What with so much that is new to me, and with my innate laziness, you will forgive me for not having written to you and for being unable to write to any other of our friends. Please do me the favor, when you talk or write to any of them, of telling them quite frankly and emphatically not to expect a letter from me, because I have better things to do. However, I make an exception of you, and trust that you will not leave this short letter unanswered, but give me the opportunity to write again by telling me of any changes of address and the date of your departure from