repentant husband. For these reasons the doors of his lordship were hermetically sealed against their ingress. Captain Fn, a Scotch officer, a friend of my lord's, and a wight of "infinite mirth and excelleut fancy," bent upon mischief, promised Sir George an introduction. Signor was a partner in the scheme; he was dressed up in a fac-simile of his lordship's clothes, and his supposed lordship received the baronet at his hotel. Added to his natural stupidity, Sir George was purblind, and easily deceived. The company consisted of several bon vivants; the baronet sat on the right of the signor, fully convinced he was elbowing the immortal bard. The signor gave some of Lord B—'s songs in a strain of burlesque that created infinite mirth. Sir George listened with gravity, and marked time with his head. At the close of the evening a bill was presented of "heavy weight," the mock lord having left the chair and the room. Sir George stared; Captain Fn remarked that they were in a hotel, and every body was glad to pay for seeing my Lord Byron. The baronet discharged the bill, and went home highly pleased with his new acquaintance. Next day, when promenading, Sir George met his lordship in a similar dress to that worn by the signor; and, after rubbing his spectacles, saluted him with a "How do ye do, my Lord? how does the wine sit on your stomach?" His lordship did not exactly stomach this mode of salutation, and peevishly exclaimed, “Sir, I don't know you." "Not know me!" said the wiseacre, “for whom you sang so many rich songs last night!" "The man is mad," muttered his lordship, and pushed rudely past him.

The trick soon reached the ears of his lordship, who was ill pleased at his name being made so free with; and the baronet, unable to stand the quizzing, quitted Venice in disgust. His lordship, fertile at invention, laid a plan to be revenged upon the forward ballad-singer, who had the vanity to suppose he had a person "worthy of any lady's eye." The Countess of Guiccioli undertook to make him believe she was smitten with the charms of his person, and in a short time succeeded. The signor professed himself her admirer, and an assignation was fixed upon to take place in her apartment, where there was only one door, and no hiding-place of any description. His lordship, as concerted, thundered at the door shortly after the signor had entered; and the lady, under pretence of saving him, thrust him into the chimney, and fastened the board with a spring lock.

His lordship had ordered a cold collation and a concert of music, as numerous friends came with him. For the space of three hours the

entertainment was kept up merrily, and the signor suffered penance in the chimney. Imagine to yourself a July day in Italy, and then think what the signor must have endured. One of the company expressed a wish to change instrumental for vocal music, when Lord Byron observed he had a bird in the chimney which could imitate the notes of Signor to admiration. Going near the chimney, he, in a whisper, demanded a song, on pain of further confinement. The signor, humbled in spirit, began and finished with some humour the air

"Pray set the mournful captive free."

His lordship then, producing sundry benefit cards, made the company (most of whom were those that enjoyed the joke at his expense the preceding evening) purchase at a high price, remarking that every one was glad to pay for hearing Signor sing. The son of Apollo was then released, and a free pardon granted, on his promising never again to soar beyond his professional sphere.

The Countess of Guiccioli has occasioned some noise both in Italy and England. All the romantic tales of his lordship taking her out of a couvent are fictions; she is no subject for a nunnery. Her father is the head of an ancient Roman family, much reduced in its fortunes he let out his palace for their support, and Lord Byron by chance occupied it when his daughter was given in marriage to the Count Guiccioli, an officer poor in every thing but titles. Lord B-- made the bride a liberal present of jewels, and in a short time he became the locum tenens of the bridegroom. Au amicable arrangement was madethe count set off to join the army at Naples, newly caparisoned and the countess remained under the roof of the noble lord, where the father acts as regulator of the household. She is a lovely woman, not more than twenty-two years of age, of a gay volatile disposition-rides like an Amazon—and fishes, hunts, and shoots, with his lordship. Nature appears to have formed them for each other. She is beloved by all the domestics, and is friendly to every one that wants her aid. She speaks English with purity, and possesses many accomplishments.

Her spirit is of the most intrepid description. Two months ago we went on a shooting party to the island of Santa Maura, the ancient Leucadia, where Sappho took the lover's leap, and buried in oblivion all memory of Phaon's inconstancy. My lord was taken with one of his odd vagaries, and, without saying a word to any one, sailed in a Greek polacre to Ithaca. Chance directed a boat to St. Maura, the crew of which had seen his lordship wandering on the shores of the

Ulyssean Isle. The Countess resolved to go after him; and, dauntlessly stepping into a small boat, accompanied by a boy, she spread her little sail to the breeze, and steered away, refusing to let any of us partake of the dangerous enterprise. For my part, I was not so much of a hero as to foster any ambition to become a Palinurus to the crazy bark of love. After being tossed about for three days and two nights she landed safe at Ithaca, and met the fugitive bard, astonished at her magnanimity. In ancient days this action would have formed the theme of an epic poem, and it is possible his lordship may yet render the tale as immortal as that of Sappho and Phaon.

• The barren island of Ithaca had charms for the gloomy mind of his lordship; and I have reason for supposing that, during the sojourn of our adventurers upon it, the drama of "Cain" was first conceived, and partly written. The story of Ulysses ploughing the sea sand, when he affected madness to remain from the siege of Troy, may not have been a fiction, for a more barren and desolate place can scarce be imagined. The countess took views from it in many places: her pencil is as often in her hand as his lordship's pen is in his; but it was only chance that ever favored us with a sight of the productions of either.

'On his lordship's return to Santa Maura we all embarked on board of a small latteen-sailed vessel for Venice. The first night we encountered a violent storm, which compelled us to seek shelter in a small creek on the west side of Zante. His lordship proved a good seaman, and showed his "intrepidity in the darkened hour." But for his threats and promises, we should have perished on the rocks. The crew, consisting of Albanians, were the most wretched cowards I had ever seen. An officer on the staff of Sir Thomas Adams came to the cottage on the beach, where our party had taken refuge. He politely offered us any accommodation the small fortress near afforded: this his lordship declined, aud invited him to dine with us in a tent on the shore. The day turned out fine, and was passed agreeably: the officer was a subaltern in the Greek infantry, and, when a sergeant, had known Lord Byron at Parga, and done him some trifling service. This his lordship reminded him of after dinner, and gave him a snuff-box, which he desired him to keep as a memorial of his gratitude. The poor fellow's heart was so full that he could not keep the secret; the box contained a note for fifty pounds.

Returned from Ithaca to Venice, we frequently made excursions to the neighbouring towns and villages, where his lordship was well known; and not unfrequently we had warning given at breakfast to be ready

for a journey in two hours. This was the usual mode of taking us unprepared. No previous conversation ever led to a belief of what were his lordship's intentions; all his actions appeared to spring from the impulse of the moment. It was not always pleasant, nevertheless, to be thus taken by surprise; and the time for preparation was never considered by his lordship.

It took no more trouble to prepare him for a journey of several days than a knight of the first crusades to make ready for a campaign, who had but one suit, in which he slept. Whether he was in his com. mon daily or full court dress, the only change he makes is drawing on a pair of tauned brown and red leather boots, and flinging a spotted silk cloak over his shoulders. With a brace of pistols in his belt, and a large English postilion's whip in his hand, he is armed cap-à-piè for all weathers. If he had half a dozen servants to take care of the luggage, he invariably would carry a small portmanteau behind him, which held a change of linen: before him was a pair of horse-pistol holsters, in which he kept his sketch-book, papers, pens and ink, and three or four silk and cambric handkerchiefs, which he was in the habit of dipping in the rivers and springs, and rubbing his forehead with. No man was more particular in the attendance of his servants, and no one ever had less occasion for their services. He kept them for the convenience of his friends alone, and in that particular certainly studied their comforts to the neglect of his own. We took the road to Verona, which was a favorite city of his lordship's, from a romantic notion which he entertained that the Romeo and Juliet of Shakspeare had absolutely existed within its walls; and he has been heard to declare that he could point out the ruins of Friar Lawrence's hermitage. In fact, like Gray and Mason with their Druids, Temples of Odin, and Fatal Sisters, his lordship brooded over darkened scenes, accordant with his imagination, till he "thought each strange tale devoutly true.""

Some American gentlemen who met with Lord Byron published an account of it in one of their own newspapers; and in this, although the details are unquestionably true, it appears that Lord Byron indulged in quizzing them-a practice to which he was always, and rather too much, addicted:

'Genoa,

I have been rambling about in Italy for fourteen months, and know every road in it better than any one in America, and every street or lane in Milan, Florence, Rome, Venice, &c. &c. better than the

Main Street in Richmond: I am, however, I believe, about to quit it I fear for ever. I am here lingering on the end.-On the 16th we arrived here. About two miles from town we overtook a gentleman on horseback, attended by a servant: I looked at his face, and instantly recognised him, from a portrait by an American painter, West, now at Florence, to be the most extraordinary man now alive: a glance at his distorted foot confirmed it. We rode on: part of our object in visiting Genoa had been to introduce ourselves to him. Accordingly next day we wrote a short and polite note, requesting leave to pay our respects; to which we received one equally polite, requesting us to call next day at two o'clock. We went; a servant stood ready to receive us, and we were shown into a saloon, where we waited with beating hearts for about a minute, when he made his appearance. He is about five feet six inches high-his body is small, and his right leg shrunk, and about two inches shorter than the other-his head is beyond description fine. West's likeness is pretty good, but no other head I ever saw of him is in the least like him. His forehead is high, and smaller at the top than below (the likenesses are vice versa). His hair, which had formerly hung in beautiful brown ringlets, beginning to turn grey, he being, as he told us, thirty-five years old. His eyes between a light blue and grey; his nose straight, but a little turned up; his teeth most beautiful; his head is perhaps too large for his body. Who is he? One of our company began a set apology, which he cut short by telling us it was useless, for that he was very glad to see us, and then began to ask us questions, fifty in a minute, without waiting for an answer to any; and, if by chance it was made, he seemed impatient if it contained more than two words. He flew from one subject to another, and during about an hour and a half talked upon at least two hundred subjects-sometimes with great humour, laughing very heartily: at length, looking round, he asked with a quizzical leer which of us was from old Virginia. I bowed assent: then followed a catechism, to which I occasionally edged in an answer.-" Have you been in England? How long have you been in Italy? Is Jefferson alive? Is it true that your landlords are all colonels and justices ? Do you know Washington Irving? He is decidedly the first English prose writer, except Scott. Have you read Bracebridge Hall' (I answered no)? Well, if you choose, I'll lend it you; here it is. Have you any American books to lend me? I am very desirous of reading the Spy.' I intend to visit America as soon as I can arrange my affairs in Italy. Your morals are much purer than those of England (there I laughed)