to frequent the gayest assemblies in London when she had become so old and infirm that, though still persisting daily in her favorite exercise on horseback, she used to be tied into her saddle in such a manner as to prevent her falling out of it.  She had been one of the finest riders in England, but used often, at the time when I knew her, to go to sleep while walking the horse round the park, her groom who rode near her being obliged to call to her “My lady!  My lady!” to make the poor old woman open her eyes and see where she was going.  At upward of eighty she died an unnatural death.  Writing by candle-light on a winter’s evening, it is supposed that her cap must have taken fire, for she was burnt to death, and had for her funeral pile part of the noble historical house of Hatfield, which was destroyed by the same accident.]

Lord Lansdowne desired to be introduced to me, and talked to me a long time.  I thought him very good-natured and a charming talker.  Mrs. Bradshaw (Maria Tree) was there, looking beautiful.  Our hostess’s daughter, Miss F——­, is very pretty, but just misses being a beauty; in that case a miss is a great deal worse than a mile.  Just as the rooms were beginning to thin, and we were going away, Lord O——­ sat down to the piano.  I had heard a great deal about his singing, and was rather disappointed; he has a sweet voice and a sweet face, but Henry Greville’s bright, sparkling countenance and expressive singing are worth a hundred such mere musical sentimentalities. [Mr. Henry Greville was one of the best amateur singers of the London society of his day.  He was the intimate personal friend of Mario, whom I remember he brought to our house, when first he arrived in London, as M. de Candia, before the beginning of his public career, and when, in the very first bloom of youth, his exquisite voice and beautiful face produced in society an effect which only briefly forestalled the admiration of all Europe when he determined to adopt the profession which made him famous as the incomparable tenor of the Italian stage for so many years.] Then, too, those lads sing songs, the words of which give one the throat-ache with strangled crying, and when they have done you hear the women all round mincing, “Charming!—­how nice!—­sweet!—­what a dear!—­darling creature!”

Thursday, 26th.—­Murray was most kind and good-natured and liberal about all the arrangements for publishing “Francis I.” and “The Star of Seville.”  He will take them both, and defer the publication of the first as long as the managers of Covent Garden wish him to do so. [As there was some talk just then of bringing out “The Star of Seville” at the theater, it was thought better not to forestall its effect by the publication of “Francis I.”]

At the theater the play was “The School for Scandal.”  A——­ F——­ was there, with young Sheridan; I hope the latter approved of my method of speaking the speeches of his witty great-grandfather.  I