s at
which she can catch him. The last time he saw her, was five or six
months ago, when they met and supped together on the St. Gothard! It is
a monomania with him, of course. He is a man of some note; seconded one
of Lord Melbourne's addresses; and had forty thousand a year, now
reduced to ten, but nursing and improving every day. He was with us last
Monday, and comes back from some out-of-the-way place to join another
small picnic next Friday. As I have said, he is the very soul of good
nature and cheerfulness, but one can't help being melancholy to see a
man wasting his life in such a singular delusion. Isn't it odd? He knows
my books very well, and seems interested in everything concerning them;
being indeed accomplished in books generally, and attached to many
elegant tastes."

But the most agreeable addition to their own special circle was referred
to in his first September letter, just when he was coming to the close
of his second number of _Dombey_. "There are two nice girls here, the
Ladies Taylor, daughters of Lord Headfort. Their mother was daughter (I
think) of Sir John Stevenson, and Moore dedicated one part of the Irish
Melodies to her. They inherit the musical taste, and sing very well. A
proposal is on foot for our all bundling off on Tuesday (16 strong) to
the top of the Great St. Bernard. But the weather seems to have broken,
and the autumn rains to have set in; which I devoutly hope will break up
the party. It would be a most serious hindrance to me, just now; but I
have rashly promised. Do you know young Romilly? He is coming over from
Geneva when 'the reading' comes off, and is a fine fellow I am told.
There is not a bad little theatre here; and by way of an artificial
crowd, I should certainly have got it open with an amateur company, if
we were not so few that the only thing we want is the audience.". . . The
"reading" named by him was that of his first number, which was to "come
off" as soon as I could get the proofs out to him; but which the changes
needful to be made, and to be mentioned hereafter, still delayed. The
St. Bernard holiday, which within sight of his Christmas-book labour he
would fain have thrown over, came off as proposed very fortunately for
the reader, who might otherwise have lost one of his pleasantest
descriptions. But before giving it, one more little sketch of character
may be interposed as delicately done as anything in his writings.
Steele's observation is in the outlin