time....  Madame le Beau brought my dress for Louisa of Savoy; it is very handsome, but I look hideous, and as grim as Queen Death in it.  However, it is a precise copy of the woman’s own picture, and I must comfort myself with that.  In the evening we went to a pleasant party at the Basil Montagues’, where for an hour I recovered my love of dancing, which has rather forsaken me of late.  The Rajah Ramohun Roy had himself introduced to me, and we presently began a delightful nonsense conversation, which lasted a considerable time, and amused me extremely.  His appearance is very striking; his picturesque dress and color make him, of course, a remarkable object in a London ball-room; his countenance, beside being very intellectual, has an expression of great sweetness and benignity and his remarks and conversation are in the highest degree interesting, when one remembers what mental energy and moral force and determination he must have exerted to break through all the trammels which have opposed his becoming what he is.  I was turning away from him for a few moments, to speak to Mr. Montague, who had begun a very interesting discourse on the analysis of the causes of laughter, when the Rajah recalled my attention to himself by saying, “I am going to quote the Bible to you:  you remember that passage, ’The poor ye have always with you, but Me ye have not always.’  Now, Mr. Montague you have always with you, but me you have not always.”  So we resumed our conversation together, and kept up a brief interchange of persiflage which made us both laugh very much, and in which he showed a very ready use of English language for a stranger.

Mrs. Procter talked to me a great deal about her little Adelaide, who must be a most wonderful creature.  The profound and unanswerable questions put to us by these “children of light” confound us with the sense of our own spiritual and mental darkness.  I often think of Tieck’s lovely and deep-meaning story of “The Elves.”  How little we know of the hidden mysterious springs from which these crystal cups are filled, or of the unseen companions that may have strayed with their fellow to the threshold of this earth, and walk with it while it yet retains its purity and innocence; but, as it journeys on, turn back and forsake it, and return to their home, leaving their sister-soul to wander through the world with sin and sorrow for companions.

     Wednesday, 7th.—­I sent “The Merchant of Venice” to Ramohun Roy,
     who, in our conversation last night, expressed a great desire to
     read it....

Thursday, 8th.—­ ...  In the evening acted Beatrice.  The house was very good, which I was delighted to see.  The Harnesses supped with us.  While we were at supper, the Quarterly Review came from Murray’s, and I read the article on “Francis I.” aloud to them.  It is very “handsome,” and I should think must satisfy my most unreasonable friends.  It more than satisfied me, for it made