rength of these compliments, and
am meditating on the expediency of having my hair cut in the Burlington
Arcade, rather than in Lamb's Conduit Street. As Richard says,

"Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost."

I begin, like Sir Walter Elliot, [The Baronet in "Persuasion."] to
rate all my acquaintance according to their beauty. But what nonsense I
write, and in times that make many merry men look grave!

Ever yours

T. B. M.

To Hannah M. Macaulay.

London: July 29, 1833.

My dear Sister,--I dined last night at Holland House. There was a
very pleasant party. My Lady was courteous, and my Lord extravagantly
entertaining, telling some capital stories about old Bishop Horsley,
which were set off with some of the drollest mimicry that I ever saw.
Among many others there were Sir James Graham; and Dr. Holland, who is
a good scholar as well as a good physician; and Wilkie, who is a modest,
pleasing companion as well as an excellent artist. For ladies, we had
her Grace of--; and her daughter Lady--, a fine, buxom, sonsy lass, with
more colour than, I am sorry to say, is often seen among fine ladies. So
our dinner and our soiree were very agreeable.

We narrowly escaped a scene at one time. Lord is in the navy, and is
now on duty in the fleet at the Tagus. We got into a conversation about
Portuguese politics. His name was mentioned, and Graham, who is First
Lord of the Admiralty, complimented the Duchess on her son's merit, to
which, he said, every despatch bore witness. The Duchess forthwith began
to entreat that he might be recalled. He was very ill, she said. If he
stayed longer on that station she was sure that he would die; and then
she began to cry. I cannot bear to see women cry, and the matter
became serious, for her pretty daughter began to bear her company. That
hardhearted Lord ---- seemed to be diverted by the scene. He, by all
accounts, has been doing little else than making women cry during the
last five-and-twenty years. However, we all were as still as death while
the wiping of eyes and the blowing of noses proceeded. At last Lord
Holland contrived to restore our spirits; but, before the Duchess went
away, she managed to have a tete-a-tete with Graham, and, I have no
doubt, begged and blubbered to some purpose. I could not help thinking
how many honest stout-hearted fellows are left to die on the most
unhealthy stations for want of being related to some Duc