once merged into that mob of élégantes and élégants, who always prefer narrow door-ways for incipient flirtations, to the clear stage and fair play of the centre of a salon. As we stood wedged on the threshold of fashion, my dazzled eyes rested for a moment, on a strikingly sullen-looking handsome creature, whose boyish person was distinguished by an air of singularity, which seemed to vibrate between hauteur and shyness. He stood with his arms crossed, and alone, occupying a corner near the door; and though in the brilliant bustling crowd, was "not of it."

"How do, Lord Byron ?" said a pretty sprite of fashion, as she glided her spirituality through a space, which might have proved too narrow for one of Leslie Forster's demi-semi souls to pass through.

Lord Byron! All "les braves Birons" of French and English chivalry rushed to my mind, at the sound of the historical name! But I was then ignorant, that its young and beautiful inheritor was to give it greater claims on the admiration of posterity, than the valiant preux of France, or the loyal cavaliers of England, had yet bestowed on it. For fame travels slowly in our Barony of Tireragh;

and though Lord Byron had already made his first step in that career which ended in the triumph of his brilliant and powerful genius over all his cotemporaries, I had got no further in the article Byron, than the "pends-toi, brave Biron," of Henri Quatre.

66

After a stand and a stare of some seconds, I was pushed on-and, on reaching the centre of the conservatory, I found myself suddenly pounced upon a sort of rustic seat by Lady C-k, whose effort to detain me on this very uneasy pre-eminence, resembled Lingo's remonstrance of keep your temper, great Rusty-fusty;" for I too was treated en princesse, (the Princess of Coolavin), and denied the civilized privileges of sofa or chair, which were not in character with the habits of a "Wild Irish Girl." So, there I sat," patience per force with wilful choler meeting,” the lioness of the night! exhibited and shewn off like "the beautiful hyena that never was tamed," of Exeter Change,-looking almost as wild, and feeling quite as savage

!

Lady C-k, whose parties are the pleasantest in London, because they are exempt from the mono

tony which broods like an incubus over the circles of English fashion, has been accused of an inordinate passion for lions. In my own respect I have only to say, that this engouement, indulged, in the first instance, perhaps, a little too much at my expense, has been followed up by nearly twenty years of unswerving friendship, kindness, and hospitality.

I shall never forget the cordiality with which, upon this memorable occasion, she presented me to all that was then most illustrious for rank and talent in England; even though the manner savoured, perhaps, something too much of the Duchess de la Ferté's style of protection, on a similar occasion," Allons, Mademoiselle, parlez-vous allez voir comme elle parle," for if the manner was not exactly conformable to the dignity of the Princess of Coolavin, the motive rendered all excusable; and I felt with the charming protégée of the French duchess, that "so many whimsical efforts proceeded merely from an immoderate desire to bring me forward.'

Presenting me to each and all of the splendid crowd, which an idle curiosity, easily excited,

and as soon satisfied, had gathered round us, she prefaced every introduction with a little exordium, which seemed to amuse every one but its subject. "Lord Erskine, this is the 'Wild Irish Girl,' whom you were so anxious to know. I assure you, she talks quite as well as she writes. Now, my dear, do tell my Lord Erskine some of those Irish stories, you told us the other evening at Lord C――ville's. Fancy yourself en petit comité, and take off the Irish brogue. Mrs. Abington says you would make a famous actress, she does indeed! You must play the short-armed orator with her; she will be here by and by. This is the Duchess of St. A―, she has your • Wild Irish Girl' by heart. Where is Sheridan? Do, my dear Mr. T-; (this is Mr. T, my dearGeniuses should know each other)-do, my dear Mr. T―, find me Mr. Sheridan. Oh! here he is! what! you know each other already; tant mieux. This is Lord Carysfort. Mr. Lewis, do come forward; that is Monk Lewis, my dear, of whom you have heard so much-but you must not read his works, they are very naughty." But here is one, whose works I know you have read. What,

you know him too!" It was the Hon. William Spenser, whose "Year of Sorrow" was then drawing tears from all the brightest eyes in England; while his wit and his pleasantry cheered every circle he distinguished by his

presence.

Lewis, who stood staring at me through his eye-glass, backed out at this exhibition, and disappeared. "Here are two ladies," continued her ladyship, "whose wish to know you is very flattering, for they are wits themselves, l'esprit de Mortemar, true N's. You don't know the You know Mr. Gell, He calls you the

value of this introduction.

Your friend Mr. Moore will be

so I need not present you. Irish Corinne. here by and by. I have collected "all the talents" for you. Do see, somebody, if Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are come yet; and find me Lady Hamilton. Now pray tell us the scene at the Irish baronet's, in the rebellion, that you told to the ladies of Llangollen; and then give us your blue stocking dinner, at Sir Richard Phillips's; and describe us the Irish priests. Here is your countrymanı, Lord L-k, he will be your bottle holder."

Lord L-k volunteered his services. The circle