From the Abbot of Mount Melleray to Lady Blessington: "Cappoquin, December 14th, "The Abbot of Mount Melleray presents his most respectful compliments to the right honorable the Countess of Blessington, and presumes most earnestly to entreat her ladyship to honor the abbey with a visit before she quits Ireland. The abbot ventures to hope that the countess will not regret such an act of condescension, if it be possible for her ladyship to accede to his humble request." Letter from Signore Giuseppe Pazzi, the celebrated Astronomer Royal of Naples, the discoverer of the Planet "Ceres:" "Napoli, 21 Febrajo, 1826. “Ubbidisco, miladi, ai graziosi comandi, di cui vi siete degnata a onorarmi e quali si siano eccovi li miei caraterí. Possano dessi perfetamente attestarvi, la mia riconoscenza e il mio rispittosa attacamento. Se mi grave che siete per muovere de questa classica terra, mi conforta la speranza che sarete per fare ben presto di ritorno. In questa dulce lusinga col maggiore assequeo ho l'honore di essere. Devotissimo servo, GIUSEPPE PAzzi.” 66 Letter from Mademoiselle Rachel to Lady Blessington: "Londres, 4ième Juillet, 1844. 'MADAME,-Lorsque j'appris que Monsieur de Chozel avait le bonheur de vous voir et de vous entendre quelquefois, je lui témoignais (desirant vivement que cela vous fut repeté) mon chagrin et mes regrets de s'avoir pas osé vous approcher l'année dernière lorsque vous aviez la bonté d'employer quelque-tems à des vers charmants adressés à la jeune artiste. Les jours, les mois s'etaient succedés rapidement, je n'osais plus reclamer le pardon d'une faute impardonnable; si vous refusez de m'entendre me justifier c'est bien audacieux à moi, madame, mais je sens si fortement tout ce que j'ai perdu que rien ne saurait m'arrêter aujourd'hui pour reconquérir votre bienveillance. Avec l'espoir qui me reste permettez-moi, madame, d'oser vous offrir (quoique trop tard pour vous éspérer le soir) une loge pour la représentation de Bajazet. Si ma bonne étoile me donnait la joie de vous entretenir, j'oserais vous en aller démander le lendemain chez vous l'impression que vous aurait laissé mes fureurs de la veille. Agréez, madame, avec toute vôtre indulgence, une hardiesse naturelle, puisqu'elle est avec le désir vif de vous voir, et l'expression de mes sentimens les plus distingués. RACHEL." Lines on various subjects, by Lord Erskine, given by his lordship to Lady Blessington: EXTEMPORE, ON A YARD OF FLANNEL. "Who, when rheumatic I complain, Gives sweet oblivion to my pain, And makes me feel quite young again? A yard of flannel. Who, when my tooth begins to ache, A yard of flannel. Who, when my ear is chill'd with cold, So kindly lends her fleecy fold? A yard of flannel. Who, when my throat is stiff and sore, Does perspiration's reign restore, And save from quinsy's threat'ning power? A yard of flannel. Do you desire to find a friend, Where warmth and softness gently blend? A yard of flannel.” Conclusion of a speech attributed by Lord Erskine to Lord Viscount Stafford: "The evidence against me, my lords, is so vague, so contradictory, and so confused, that if an angel from heaven were to appear at your lordships' bar, and to attest its truth, you would say he was a fallen angel, and that he would return no more to the sphere from whence he had descended." ON WALTER SCOTT'S POEM ENTITLED “THE FIELD OF WATERLOO." "How prostrate lie the heaps of slain On Waterloo's immortal plain; But none by sabre or by shot ON PRESENTING BONAPARTE'S SPURS TO THE PRINCE REGENT. "These spurs Napoleon left behind, Flying swifter than the wind; Useless to him if buckled on, Needing no spur but Wellington." AN INSCRIPTION FOR A COLLAR OF THE Lap-dog of THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON. "Whoever finds, and don't forsake me, Shall have naught in way of gains; But let him to my mistress take me, Translation of a Portuguese song, sent under cover to Lady Blessington: "Know'st thou the land where citrons scent the gale, Where glows the orange in the golden vale, Where softer breezes fan the azure skies, Where myrtles spring, and prouder laurels rise- Know'st thou the pile the colonnade sustains, Our course shall end. Know'st thou the mount were clouds obscure the day, And broken rocks oppose the headlong flood Know'st thou the land? "Tis there our course shall end; Letter from B. Cochrane, Esq.: Let our footsteps bend." "May, 1849. "MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,-It is so idle to tell you what you so well know, that you have left a vacancy here which can never be filled up. It makes me quite sad to know that your absence is for a lengthened period, as I can assure you that it calls forth one common expression of sorrow from all your friends, that is, from all who had the honor and delight of your acquaintance. I quite concur in all you say respecting M; he is a most admirable and honorable man; but, alas! it is, in these days, in political as in naval matters, the ship that can tack and veer is ever the most valued. "Yours ever truly, B. COCHRANE." Letters from HR, Esq., to Lady Blessington: "Rue de la Paix, Paris, 13th October, 1840. "I have been here an anxious spectator of the perils which menace this fleet vessel of France, with its gibbering crew and queer pilots. The wind has caught the chaff once more, and it whirls it upward. Another breath may fan the spark to flames. Sparks, did I say! they are no sparks; they are the unextinguished embers of that great funeral pile of the monarchy and aristocracy of France, which has been burning and smouldering for fifty years. "Ah, no! if I write to you, let me rather talk to you of the sunshine, the leisure, the scenery, the peasantry, the fruit, the billows of the South. From Bordeaux to Marseilles we traveled along the valley of the Garonne, the plains of Languedoc, the shores of the Mediterranean. I reveled in the beauty of the country, the exuberant fertility of the land, the enchanting clearness of the sky. In Provence I visited the coast of Hyeres, with its woods of orangetrees and palms, and I made a solitary pilgrimage to Vaucluse. "Ever most faithfully yours, H. R." "13th June, 1842. "Your directions, many weeks ago, to ask me for a few lines to some fair lady's eyebrow, in the Book of Beauty,' I have left unfulfilled, and, what is worse, the note unanswered, for I did not quite like to confess to myself, much less to another, that I was grown so dull and old (a Benedict!) that rhymes for me have ceased to flow. "Prose, my dear Lady Blessington, prose is the true language of happiness; poetry the language of the want of it. Prose pays the rent and the butcher; poetry starves the poet, and, still more, his wife and children. In short, I have only to assure you that I tried hard to write something, found I could not, and then perceived that the beadle must have whipped away all poetical ideas, which I only regret, inasmuch as it makes me very useless and uncivil. H. R." "2d February, 1843. "In my position, I have at least more aptitude to share in the griefs of my friends than those who are not stricken from the herd. And I most deeply feel for you in the loss you and your nieces have sustained. That child had in her such gifts of affection, and such a clear, active spirit, that even her natural infirmities seemed to be those of a superior being. But she was of those whose maturity must needs be elsewhere, where alone are the best hearts and truest souls. H. R." "April 28th, 1849. "I chanced to be absent from London for some little time previous to your departure, and, indeed, a few days earlier we might have gone to Paris; but I hope you will allow me the privilege of an old and grateful friend in expressing to you my sincere and lasting regret for the loss we all sustain by your removal. London is, I believe, the place in the world in which we are least given to express what we feel; and a thousand circumstances and impediments are forever occurring to make us appear much more dull and miserable than we really are. "Yet I believe no acts of kindness or recollections of pleasant hours are lost in that deep and turbid water; and, for my own part, as I wander of ward on my solitary way, I have a thousand emotions connected with the past, which revolve though they seldom exhale. Among how many of those remembrances, dear Lady Blessington, do your kindness and hospitalities keep their place! Our lives are like those hollow Chinese balls, which they carve one within another, each including all that preceded it, and of these the clearest and most ornamental is marked 'Gore House.' “In after times that house will have its place in literary and social history, and I am afraid, in our time, we shall not see its fellow until you come back H. R." to us. Letter from Richard M. Milnes, Esq., to Lady Blessington : "September 12th. “Dear Lady BLESSINGTON,-I don't know Monsieur Louis Blanc, nor sympathize with his opinions; but having seen him in the Assembly on the 15th of May, and having carefully read the enquete, I am convinced in my own mind that the act of the Assembly was a surprise to him, and that his manner when in the Assembly was deprecatory, and not discouraging. I thought, certainly, he seemed to desire to get them away. I remain yours very truly, "RICHARD M. MILNES." CHAPTER XIX. EPISTOLARY CURIOSITIES, ETC. Letter to Lady Blessington, endorsed by her ladyship, “ A curious communication from a Mr. J, relative to a mysterious occurrence :" "Brussels, 26th October, 1835. "MY LADY,-An utter stranger to you, I find it very difficult to apologize for the liberty I am taking; but your ladyship has seen much of life, and you possess great talent; the latter consideration influences me to address you on a very extraordinary subject, sure you will help me to find out the object of my search. "Thirteen years ago, I was asked by a very old friend (an apothecary) if I would undertake an accouchement under very extraordinary conditions. I consented. In a few days I was requested to be at the corner of Downing Street, at ten o'clock in the evening, and a pledge of honor was exacted that I should never disclose the affair I had undertaken, or make any effort to find out the parties interested; and that, if accident ever revealed them to my knowledge, I should never disclose the facts or names to any one; to all this I consented, and made no terms of any kind for myself, leaving the remunera |