for the comely book which shows how cosily America lodges my brethren of the quill.  Dr. Holmes ought to have been there, and Dr. Parsons, but their time will come and must.  Nothing gratifies me more than to find how many strangers, writing to me of my Recollections, mention Dr. Holmes, classing him sometimes with Thomas Davis, sometimes with Praed.  If I write another series of Recollections, as, when Mr. May will let me, I suppose I must, I shall certainly include Dr. Parsons....

Has anybody told you the terrible story of that boy, Lord Ockham, Lord Byron’s grandson?  I had it from Mr. Noel, Lady Byron’s cousin-german and intimate friend.  While his poor mother was dying her death of martyrdom from an inward cancer,—­Mrs. Sartoris (Adelaide Kemble), who went to sing to her, saw her through the door, which was left open, crouching on a floor covered with mattresses, on her hands and knees, the only posture she could bear,—­whilst she with the patience of an angel was enduring her long agony, her husband, engrossed by her, left this lad of seventeen to his sister and the governess.  It was a dull life, and he ran away.  Mr. Noel (my friend’s brother, from whom he had the story) knew most of the youth, who had been for a long time staying at his house, and they begged him to undertake the search.  Lord Ockham had sent a carpet-bag containing his gentleman’s clothes to his father, Lord Lovelace, in London; he was therefore disguised, and from certain things he had said Mr. Noel suspected that he intended to go to America.  Accordingly he went first to Bristol, then to Liverpool, leaving his description, a sort of written portrait of him, with the police at both places.  At Liverpool he was found before long, and when Mr. Noel, summoned by the electric telegraph, reached that town, he found him dressed as a sailor-boy at a low public-house, surrounded by seamen of both nations, and enjoying, as much as possible, their sailor yarns.  He had given his money, L36, to the landlord to keep; had desired him to inquire for a ship where he might be received as cabin-boy; and had entered into a shrewd bargain for his board, stipulating that he should have over and above his ordinary rations a pint of beer with his Sunday dinner.  The landlord did not cheat him, but he postponed all engagements under the expectation—­seeing that he was clearly a gentleman’s son—­that money would be offered for his recovery.  The worst is that he (Lord Ockham) showed no regret for the sorrow and disgrace that he had brought upon his family at such a time.  He has two tastes not often seen combined,—­the love of money and of low company.  One wonders how he will turn out.  He is now in Paris, after which he is to re-enter in Green’s ship (he had served in one before) for a twelvemonth, and to leave the service or remain in it as he may decide then.  This is perfectly true; Mr. Noel had it from his brother the very day before he wrote it to me.  He says that Lady Lovelace’s funeral was