Manchester, 8th November 1855 
34 Butler Street, Green Keys 

Dear Lassalle, 

Herewith a very belated answer. In the first place, I did not get 
your letters until later because I was in Manchester whereas the 
letters were in London and my wife did not know for certain 
whether I hadn’t already left Manchester. For another thing, I was 
plagued by the most atrocious toothache, so much so that I 
experienced what Hegel demands of sensual consciousness at the 
stage at which it is said to override consciousness of self—viz. the 
inability to hear, see, and therefore also to write. 

As regards your query about the book entitled: Les mystéres de la 
Bourse by Coffinieres, I believe that this miserable concoction is 
still among the books I left behind in the fatherland. During my 
first stay in Paris” the title misled me first into buying the thing 
and then into reading it. Mr Coffiniéres is a lawyer who, au fond,* 
knows nothing about the Bourse and merely warns against the 
‘legal’ swindles perpetrated by the ‘agents de change.” So there’s 
nothing to be got out of the book—neither racrs, nor theory, nor 
yet even entertaining anecdotes. Moreover, it is now completely 
out-of-date. ‘Sweet Donna, let him go’—1.e. Coffiniéres. ‘He is not 
worthy of thy wrath’* 

Weerth is now back in Manchester after a lengthy journey via the 
Continent (he returned from the West Indies at the end of July). Ina 
week’s time he will be off to the tropics again. Its very amusing to 
hear him talk. He has seen, experienced and observed much. 
Ranged over the better part of South, West and Central America. 
Crossed the Pampas on horseback. Climbed Chimborazo. Likewise 
stayed in California. If he no longer writes feuilletons,°”’ he makes 
up for it by recounting them, and his audience has the benefit of 
vivacious gesture, mime and waggish laughter. He is, by the by, 
full of enthusiasm for life in the West Indies and hasn’t a good 

4 at bottom - > stockbrokers - © Words of Leporello in Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Act 
I (libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte). 

word to say for the human riff-raff and the weather of this 
northern clime. And, inpzep, things are bad here, very bad. 

You will have read in the papers about the Jersey affair and 
the general to-do over the refugee question in England. I don’t 
believe that this affair will take a serious turn. Nor, for that 
matter, do I believe that the government here had a serious end in 
view. Otherwise the row would have been saved up until just 
before the opening of Parliament. As it is, rustic opinion has been 
given time to swing back and, in many respects, has already done 
so. 

Send your next letter to my old address in London as I’m not sure 
how long I shall stay up here with friend Engels. He and Lupus 
send you their warm regards. 

Your 
K. M.