round us,
she prefaced every introduction with a little exordium which seemed to
amuse every one but its object: 'Lord Erskine, this is the Wild Irish Girl
whom you are so anxious to know. I assure you she talks quite as well as
she writes.--Now, my dear, do tell my Lord Erskine some of those Irish
stories you told us the other evening. Fancy yourself among your own set,
and take off the brogue. Mrs. Abingdon says you would make a famous
actress: she does indeed. You must play the short-armed orator with her:
she will be here by and by. This is the duchess of St. Albans: she has
your novel by heart. Where is Sheridan?--Do, my dear Mr. T---- (This is
Mr. T----, my dear: geniuses should know each other)--do, my _dear_ Mr.
T----, find me Mr. Sheridan. Oh! here he is!--What! you know each other
already? So much the better.--This is Lord Carysford.--Mr. Lewis, do come
forward.--That is Monk Lewis, my dear, of whom you have heard so much, but
you must not read his works: they are very naughty.' Lewis, who stood
staring at me through his eye-glasses, backed out after this remark, and
disappeared. 'You know Mr. Gell,' her ladyship continued, 'so I need not
introduce you: he calls you the Irish Corinne. Your friend Mr. Moore will
be here by and by: I have collected all the talent for you.--Do see,
somebody, if Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are come yet, and find me Lady
Hamilton.--_Now_, pray tell us the scene at the Irish baronet's in the
rebellion.'

"Lord L---- volunteered his services. The circle now began to widen--wits,
warriors, peers and ministers of state. The harp was brought forward, and
I tried to sing, but my howl was funereal. I was ready to cry, but
endeavored to laugh, and to cover my real timidity by an affected ease
which was both awkward and impolitic. At last Mr. Kemble was announced.
Lady Cork reproached him as the _late_ Mr. Kemble, and then, looking
significantly at me, told him who I was. Kemble acknowledged me by a
kindly nod, but the stare which succeeded was not one of mere recognition:
it was the glazed, fixed look so common to those who have been making
libations to altars which rarely qualify them for ladies' society. Mr.
Kemble was evidently much preoccupied and a little exalted. He was seated
my _vis-a-vis_ at supper, and repeatedly raised his arm and stretched it
across the table for the purpose, as I supposed, of helping himself to
some boar's head in jelly. Alas! no! The _bore_ was that _my_ head