and I have had Frontel to dye Jemima's two shades darker at least; Amelia is, unfortunately, a blonde." driving off; I had no idea you knew him." "We met last night-but no introduction took place. I asked Mrs. Turtoman to present me, but she made some excuse, though I saw her blind, stupid daughter ogling, and smiling, and singing at him || all night." "Very right; but, my dear Lady Mary, why do you not send off two, the witty and the learned lady, to your uncle's in Somersetshire. I would engage to look after Amelia, whose tournure is much admired; by the way, I wish her dresses were not quite so short, and—” "She has such a pretty ankle," ob- expect a mother who has daughters of her served the mamma. "Doubtless; but it is well to leave something to the imagination," retorted the clever lady. "As I was saying, I would look after Amelia; but your wild sweet-briar, and your scientific girl, MUST be sent to the country; their birth and|| rank will get them decently off there; but here, the wit of the one, and the talent of the other, keep off a great many-(1 assure you I speak from the best authority) -a great many very eligible men." Lady Jane looked distressed; she had, despite her fashionable education, a good many of a mother's feelings lingering round her heart; and though her daughters lacked the duty and tenderness, in the olden time considered necessary for children to bestow upon their parents, still she loved to have them with her. "Lady Jane Seldon, and five portionless, unmarried daughters!" persisted Lady Mary. "Think-ponder on the awful sound." "I am really much to be pitied," replied Lady Jane. "As if on purpose to annoy me, my brother-in-law died, and bequeathed me the care of his only child, Emma; she ought, by rights, to have been brought out last season." "I have seen her, I think-a pale, modest-looking maiden. It is astonishing how those sort of girls take with some men ;-from their rarity, I presume." "She has been always with her grandmother, but as she is grown up now, was returned to me last month with some game from the country-by the way, I hope you received the pheasants?" "Yes, thanks-but as I live!" exclaimed Lady Mary, withdrawing the silken shade from the window, as a thundering knock echoed up the staircase, "Lord Fitzrey's curricle is at your dooryou said, not at home, too-there he is || "No great mark of stupidity either," replied Lady Jane; "but really one cannot own to introduce young men of wealth to other people's girls,-I never did it, never, till my girls were off: now, matters are different." "So they are; Lord Fitzrey must have been struck with Caroletta, or why call? Yet it is very odd.” "I'll tell you what, my friend, carry the thing by a coup de main, issue cards for a fête on the third, and invite—” "Lord Fitzrey," interrupted the delighted mother. "Excellent! do you know any thing of his likings or dislikings —or of his peculiarities?" "No, not exactly, except that he patronises hot suppers, and domestic ladies.” How very odd !"* 66 "You can engage Ude to give Carro a few lessons in the nomenclature of cookery, and it is easy for her to display her knowledge; carefully, however, or it might destroy her prospects in other quarters." "She has so little tact; if you, my dear kind friend, would condescend to give her a little advice." "Rely upon me; I will now take her home, while you make the other arrangements for your fête; but, remember! as you hope to marry your daughters, avoid younger brothers.” My best friend !"— "And I would advise you to get that harp re-gilt, every thing tells; and I know he is even more devoted to music than Sir Cosmo." "Admirable creature!" "A whisper here and there will not be amiss, intimating, delicately-mind youthat a certain youth-the star of fashionthe magnus Apollo-has been smitten, by a certain lady, not a hundred yards from Cavendish-square." "My beloved Lady Mary, how superior are you to all other women!-Cerriese, tell Grandy to put those pines into Lady Mary's carriage, and tell Miss Seldon to prepare to drive with her ladyship. And Cerriese, don't let your young lady put on her chapeau blue, but her cottage-bonnet à l'Angloise." "And a veil," added Lady Mary, "we may meet Fitzrey in the Park, and so modesty must be the order of the day: a girl must always study the lover's taste before marriage, and her own after." In a few minutes the carriage rolled off; the despised wit was called upon to arrange the invitations; the harp was sent to be re-gilt, and all was in confusion. The same evening Lady Jane received the following billet from Lady Mary :— "My dear friend, I cannot suffer a moment to escape without informing you of our success. We met F., and he expressed his determination of calling again on you to-morrow morning; but this is not all, S. A. told me, confidentially, that his lordship had said, that Miss Seldon interested him more than any girl he had ever met. We encountered Lorton; Carro behaved admirably-cut him dead -ever yours-M. T." To this precious billet a P.S. was added, as follows: 66 Fitzrey chooses to be particular, and sends up cards before people are up: he visited a friend of mine at one, only imagine-yet he cannot think of calling upon ladies before two-but be in readiness." "Before two"-before one even the next morning, this hunted man made his appearance; the servants had received strict orders to admit him-and when he did arrive, the various dressing-rooms were thrown into consternation, Caroletta's nose looked even more "tinted" than usual, and the application of milk of roses failed in its boasted operation; how she mourned that pearl powder could not be safely used by daylight: Amelia was out of humour: Sophia, while occupied in pinning on her bows, declared she loved the man even for his singularity; and Corinne left off in the middle of an ode she was penning on "Disinterested Affection," to meditate on the charms of a rich husband, and the arrangement of a demi parure; Jemima shared the general confusion, and before one of the party was fit to appear, the nobleman had been kept waiting an entire hour. When at length Lady Jane, attended by the well-tutored beauty, entered the room, her good-breeding hardly restrained the expression of astonishment which rested on her lip; his lordship was absolutely leaning over the chair upon which "cousin Emma," the little neglected niece, sat-both evidently delighted with the tête-à-tête. She had been turning over some music upon the harp stand, and her fingers rested upon, without pressing its leaves; she was apparently intent on defining the pattern of the Brussels carpet, and her usually pale cheek was blooming as summer roses. Even Lord Fitzrey seemed embarrassed—it was not, however, the embarrassment arising from want of breeding, but of real feeling. Poor little Emma attempted to stand up, but she was quickly obliged to resume her seat; and the angry look of her angry aunt made her tremble and turn paler. After the usual salutations had passed, Emma, having gained her self-possession, rose to withdraw. Eord Fitzrey extended his hand to her "You are not going, I hope, Emma?" he said; SO - to 66 pray do not leave us. I knew that Miss Seldon could not soon adopt London habits, and forget those which made us so well acquainted.” He continued, addressing Lady Jane, who sat boiling with vexation— "And I called early, certain of finding her disengaged at her grandmamma's I was a privileged person; and we were often on the Downs at eight me they were delightful mornings. I feared London would spoil my sweet companion; but except that she is somewhat paler, she is as yet unchanged. I have engaged her, with your permission, for the first quadrille at your approaching ball; and if she is not ashamed of her old friend, we shall dance it as happily as we used long since with our country neighbours at the rural gipsyings of Heatherdon."-" First quadrille”—“ rural gipsyings"—" old friend"-" partner"— with little Emma Seldon, Countess of Fitzrey, and Heatherdon in the distance, bewildered the brain and the imagination of the hapless Caroletta; while Lady Jane was blinded by a mother's partiality, and indulged in the idea that it was a country whim of the noble's, which knowledge of the world, and her daugh ter's beauty, must obliterate. The earl soon made his adieus; and before he left the room pressed the hand of Emma Seldon tenderly and respectfully to his lips. with a good grace; always keep on terms read of, and indeed known men, who This was too much for the patience of either mother or daughters (for the other husband-hunters had no idea of Caroletta's monopoly, and had one by one enter- || ed the salon, to prevent it); had the gentleman bestowed a similar salute on either of the sisters, I much doubt if it would have been objected to; but as it was, all joined in full cry at the impropriety—rudeness-incorrectness, &c. &c.-—and “ sin Emma" had to support it all. "Your innocent demeanour, young lady, was assumed then, doubtless," said her aunt, sharply; "for you never told us you knew Lord Fitzrey." "Indeed I had no opportunity," she replied; " I did not imagine even that he was in town, and my cousins and I are so little together, that—” "That will do, child. I suppose, as it is the whim of his peculiar lordship, you must appear on the third, and I will order you a robe à l'enfant for the occasion; you must not suppose that his attentions to you are particular-all men in London are attentive, and your cousin's rank—” "Indeed!” replied the young lady; "Lord Fitzrey was a great deal at grand-|| mamma's, and very kind to me there. Dear aunt, do not order me a dress à l'enfant, for I am quite as old as Jemima, and she appears as a woman; but I should not like French curls-becausebecause " "Because what, child-are you suddenly affected with loss of speech?" "Grandmamma does not like them," she replied, colouring at the equivocation, for if truth must be told, it was Lord Fitzrey's antipathy she dreaded. "Go to your chamber, child, and learn to be satisfied with what those who know best direct ;" and the young lady, as the|| tears gathered in her eyes, disappeared || unrepiningly. Hope whispered that the tyranny would not be of long duration. As the evening advanced, notes passed between the dowagers; the following extracts, from one of Lady Mary's billets, will shew exactly how matters stood. * * Poor Emma! she had not a particle of that odious attribute-cleverness. She would never have been celebrated even under Lady Mary's tuition, as a tactitian, and I doubt if Prince Metternich could have moulded her into a diplomatist.— She was nothing more (despite at times her pale, statue-like appearance) than an animated innocent girl of seventeen, with an inconvenient portion of heart, and (for a woman) a fair portion of head;—the very thing that Lady Jane despised, happened to be the very thing that Lord Fitzrey admired-her pure freedom from all affectation. She had caught his heart on the rebound, he having discovered that a widow whom he fancied himself desperately in love with, had never been married, and having determined (as disappointed men' generally do) that all the sex were good for nothing, shut himself up in the priory at Heatherdon. The third day found him dull and dispirited; the fourth, at old Lady Seldon's gate; the fifth, gathering chickweed for Emma's canary; the sixth, training her pony (the animal was restive, and he reconciled himself to the task by imagining if he did not do so, the creature might break her neck); the seventh, escorting her to the village-church, and visiting some sick cottagers afterwardsN.B. he thought she looked very lovely' that morning; the eighth, presenting her flowers, which he was mortified to see did not grace her bosom ; the ninth, called early, and found her transferring the beau “If any proposal comes, support it || ties of his gift to Bristol board (thought honour Heatherdon"-were the sentences which, like the spectres in Macbeth, stood out from the unconscious Bath-post.Lady Jane would have shewn temper at this, but for the sagacity of Lady Mary, who had learned to turn even her old silk dresses to advantage. She therefore loved niece"-talked of her extraordinary she painted flowers as well as Mrs. Pope); the tenth, sang the duet, "Dost thou remember," with her twice (liked her singing better than Sontag's); and on his way home that night, the Lord Fitzrey || was convinced that he was deeply smitten by the untutored charms of a little maiden of seventeen, whom all the village || lavished much tenderness on her "beloved; consequently he read Wordsworth, quoted L.E.L., and mystified-a || likeness to her "excellent brother”—took little, only a little-with Byron. When he heard of her going to London, he resolved to follow; and thought he would like to see the effect of its gaieties upon her heart; but -if confessions are allowable-he trembled at the idea of her being contaminated by a London life. He was not so blind as not to perceive the thousand-and-one || schemes that were laid for his captivity; and distinctly did he see the would-be invisible meshes woven for him by the hands of the bright, dark, rich, poor, young, old, witty, and beautiful husbandhunters; he was, moreover, wise enough to distrust himself, and, consequently, the next morning brought a letter, over which Lady Jane wasted three boxes of snuff! much trouble in the arrangement of the trousseau, and graciously accepted the jewels which Lord Fitzrey generously presented to his cousins (in perspective) -gave the wedding déjeûner—and went into hysterics as the company were departing; and no wonder the pretty Amelia had eloped with Latrobe! Her attention, however, was soon directed to another quarry-a German prince, with an undefinable name, and a definable income, but who was nevertheless a Prince; and while Lord Fitzrey and his lovely bride were spending the honeymoon, in happiness, at Heatherdon, the view-hollow! was again opened, and a fresh start made by the husband-hunters, for the hand and moustache of his Excellency Prince Burkhandorterechdousleyden. A. M. H. MOORE'S MEMOIRS OF BYRON. So, we have at last got the second volume of " Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, with Notices of his Life, by Thomas Moore!" And what are we to do with it? What Moore has done with his subject-little or nothing. No analysis, howsoever extended, could suffice to give a distinct and accurate view of this intrinsically valuable. quarto of more than 800 pages, every page of which is a little world of variety, and the aggregate affording material for a thousand essays and dissertations. Repeatedly have we had occasion to place upon record our opinion of the ge in him by his friend, in the destruction - As to the affair of the Guiccioli, about which all the world has heard so muchand that of Marianna-and the " gentle tigress," the Fornarina-and the thousand-and-one other unhallowed connections, in the meshes of which Lord-Byron was from time to time entangled-this is not a place for their discussion or eluci neral character and conduct of Lord By- || dation. We may remark, however, en ron, and of those of his lady-wife; repeatedly, too, have we expressed our sentiments respecting Mr. Moore's conduct in violating the sacred trust reposed passant, that, in no instance, excepting perhaps in that of his first boyish flamenot even in his attachment to the Countess Guiccioli-had Byron's love the fea tures, the essence, of pure and generous affection-the affection that is deep, and silent, and enduring that lasts until death-that looks forward, in the vividness of immortal hope, to a blessed and beatific elevation in a world beyond the grave. No! no! Byron's love was "of the earth, earthly." Excitement, animal as well as mental, was the soul of his existence. It is evident, from the whole tenor of his proceedings, that his passion for the Guiccioli had gone off; he panted for new excitement; and so he entered upon the silliest of all silly crusades, an expedition in favour of the Greeks-an expedition which fifty Byrons could not have rendered successful. But every body must read this book; not for what Moore has contributed towards its fabrication, for that, as we have already intimated, is next to nothing, but for the sake of Byron's letters, journals, and memoranda-the only mirror of his mind-the only source from which any true view of his mind and character can be obtained. In reading these memoirs, every person will form an estimate of his own respecting the genius, the talents, the principles of Byron. There is not a man or woman of genius who, in their perusal, will not, in a thousand instances, assimilate-identify-him or herself with the poet. And this, more than all the arguments, all the disquisitions, all the criticism, all the illustration in the world, proclaims the wild, the eccentric, the versatile powers of his spirit-his great, noble, generous, but clouded spirit.-All that we shall pretend or attempt to do, in a brief and rapid sketch, is to offer a few of the striking points with which almost every page-excepting that portion of the volume which is devoted to the Greek business-is crowded. The letters, in the entire work, extend to the number of 561: in the second volume, the greater, and the more interesting part of his Lordship's epistolary correspondence is addressed to Mr. Murray. The first letter bears the number of 242, and the date of Ouchy, near Lausanne, June 27, 1816. Mr. Moore tells us, that, besides the unfinished "Vampyre," he began at this time a "Romance, in prose, founded upon the story of the Marriage of Belphegor, and intended to shadow out No. 74.-Vol. XIII. his own matrimonial fate. The wife of this satanic personage he described much in the same spirit that pervades his delineation of Donna Inez in the First Canto of Don Juan. While engaged, however, in writing this story, he heard from England that Lady Byron was ill, and, his heart softening at the intelligence, he threw the manuscript into the fire. So constantly were the good and evil principles of his nature conflicting for mastery over him." A little further on, Mr. Moore, taking credit to himself for having left unnoticed, in his former volume, certain affairs of gallantry in which Lord Byron had the reputation of being engaged, intimates that, the scene having been shifted to a region where less caution is requisite, he "shall venture so far to depart from the plan hitherto pursued, as to give, with but little suppression, the noble poet's letters relative to his Italian adventures." Let the public, and the friends of Lord Byron, judge Mr. Moore on this point. We are sufficiently aware of the delicacy and difficulty of the situation in which, under such circumstances, a biographer must find himself. All, therefore, that we shall say is, that there are hundreds of passages in these letters which ought never to have been written — which, having been written, ought never to have met human eyes, but those to which they were addressed-and which, howsoever much the publication of them may tend to elucidate the character of the writer, cannot fail to operate as a curse and a withering blight upon his moral fame. Let us get rid of this painful feeling. As Byron says, in one of his letters to Murray, "You talk of marriage; ever since my own funeral, the word makes me giddy ;-pray don't repeat it." Here is an opinion of his Lordship's well deserving the attention of our romance writers and playwrights. Alluding to the tragedy of Venice Preserved, he says "I hate things all fiction; and therefore the Merchant [of Venice] and Othello have no great associations to me: but Pierre has. There should always be some foundation of fact for the most airy fabric, and pure invention is but the talent of a liar." Lord Byron's notion of painting and M |