There, sir! Entirely reconciled! Talk loudly of Mr. Selwyn's goodness to Mie Mie! what in the world can go better than your affairs at Milan? I will write a line as soon as I know anything about the watch. I have called at Verneaux, but could not see him. I will also take care of what you say about the Comtes Polignac and Sarsfield. Your letters of Friday, the 26th, came on Thursday. Those of last Tuesday are not arrived yet. That cursed German post is the torment of all the world. You had better have sent all your letters to Milan through my hands, and have received them so. That German post, I verily believe, was the cause of a bad fever I once had in Switzerland, and I have owed it a grudge ever since.

There are things in your letter to be answered, but not now. I note all you say in my mind, if I do not in my reply. I am afraid you will think I am an idle fellow, and I think, too, it is near the truth. My letters are none of the shortest, but yet they are not so full as they should be. However, I flatter myself that I do not omit anything material, and that you will give me credit for the

rest.

Your opposition of the two strong places is droll enough. But we had talked of them both here and before. The Seymours are become mighty civil, and my brother and I dine at Sir Harry's once a week. His chapter will keep till I kiss your hands, which I devoutly wish to do.

The Rev. Doctor Warner to George Selwyn.
March, 1779.

Really, sir, if I have not done as you would have me, I shall be very sorry, and if I have failed, it is for want of better judgment, for there cannot be better inclination. If you had bid me, I would have endeavoured to write like a mere servant, and my communications should have been truly but yea, yea, nay, nay.

Faith, I do not wonder that you should wish to get somebody else to do the work for you. You have made me laugh exceedingly by your going about with your pockets and your head full of this business, not knowing where to deposit it, almost as bad as a dévoiement in the streets of Paris. Methinks I see you going down St. James's Street, stopping, and turning, and looking about in a kind of anguish, for any means to get rid of it. However, if I have erred, it was from want of judgment, and not from wantonness or affectation. You put me off my bias in talking of ostensibles; I hate them, j'aime les choses qu'il faut cacher; as somebody says well enough about amour propre; qu'il ressemble à : il est necessaire; il nous est cher; il nous fait du plaisir, et il faut le cacher. I am always afraid of saying something wrong, and the notion of ostensible me gêne. But I can write to you, as they say, without fear or wit, though you will not allow it. Vous avez su m'apprivoiser de

la sorte, by the gentleness of your nature, that I can fearlessly gambol and dance about you, and jump into your lap, though sometimes more like an ass than a lap-dog; but then I am sure to be forgiven, and that you will but laugh at me.

There was something in a letter or two ago of yours of an instance of my ignorance of the world, which I could not make out from the omission of words, though you have made me a tolerable decipherer. If you recollect it, I wish you would tell me what it was. I like to show my ignorance to you (if it does not look too much like a sore leg), to have it cured. Perhaps I have played the devil in talking as I have done, and you have sent me to a thousand devils at once. I hope to escape, however, in the general joy that things wear so good a face. You may be sure that I have misrepresented nothing, and that I will not deceive you. Come, come, that is somewhat. The doctor made abundance of speeches. Indeed, sir, you hit it there; the old man was so long autour du pot, that the blind woman' got the start of him. You must love that blind woman, I am sure. One com

fort to me is, that, whatever I have said, I cannot have said half so bad as she has. Important que cette dame quitte ce pais, — garrison, — fréquens repas,—fort agreable à tous les officiers. Ah! what is this? Married to the regiment, as I am a sinner! A follower of the camp! And without the

'Madame du Deffand.

imagination of Othello, one may be convinced that "The Pioneers," etc., etc.

I am infinitely flattered that the Duke of Queensberry should express an inclination to be better acquainted with me, and thank you for it. I have a long time wished to be better acquainted with his Grace.

The Rev. Doctor Warner to George Selwyn. March 11, 1779. DEAR SIR:- If I wanted any proof of the excess of your affection for your Mie Mie, your letter, which I received yesterday, contains such a one as would convince not only me, who am very easy of belief, but even a St. Thomas. I declare I think that everything is in the happiest train in the world, and I very heartily felicitate you and myself upon it. The father, as you have every reason in the world to know, means to act like a man, and will say, "There's your child, and God bless you with her." The convent there certainly can be no manner of difficulty about. Her going into the class was only mentioned as a thing that you might or might not approve of. Her stay there, if she enters it at all, will, I apprehend, be extremely short; but whatever may be its duration, you may certainly, by the sacrifice of a few louis, have her there as exactly to your mind as the place will admit of. The louis, as the doctor is assured, is the sole object of madame

l'abbesse, who is as lean and ravenous as a kite. The only thing, in which I can possibly imagine the least matter of trouble, will be in getting rid of the perle de gouvernantes, who, I figure to myself, to be now daily, and for some time past, exerting all her cunning, so as to wind herself into the easy-hearted little lady, that she may not part with her, and the separation may cost the little lady some pearly drops.

As to the Hôtel de Dannemarc, the devil take him, as you say, who mentions it first. Indeed, there is nothing new, but that yesterday morning they seemed to be changing their minds again, which is not new. Your letters of Tuesday, the 2d, came on Monday. I am doing what you desire.

ISABELLA, COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.

ISABELLA, Dowager Countess of Carlisle, eldest daughter of William, fourth Lord Byron, was born on the 10th of November, 1721. In June, 1743, she became the second wife of Henry, fourth Earl of Carlisle, by whom she was the mother of Frederick, the fifth earl (the friend of George Selwyn), and of four daughters: Lady Anne, one of the ladies of the bedchamber to the Princess Amelia, aunt of George the Third; Lady Frances, married to John Radcliffe, Esq., of Hitchin, in