I was with Lord Byron, at his house in Piccadilly, the best part of
the three last days before he left London, to quit England; I
expressed my regret at his departure, and desired to know if it was
really his intention not to return (little anticipating what
eventually took place;) he fixed his eyes upon me with an eager look
of inquiry, exclaiming at the same time, "Good God! I never had it in
contemplation to remain in exile--why do you ask that question?" I
stated that such a report had been rumoured. "I certainly intend
returning," continued his lordship, "unless the _grim tyrant_ should
be playing his pranks on me."

He appeared very anxious for the voyage, and walked about the room in
great agitation, waiting the return of a messenger who had been sent
respecting some delay which was likely to take place; the messenger
however soon entered, and presented him a letter, which his lordship
opened with great eagerness. In reading the letter his countenance,
like the earth illumined by the re-appearance of the moon, after
having been obscured by dark clouds, brightened up, and at the close
he exultingly exclaimed "this is kind--very kind--Nathan! to-morrow I
quit." I soon after left him; he shook me heartily by the hand, and
left with his impression a fifty pound note, saying, "Do not be
offended with me at this mode of expressing the delight you have
afforded me--until we meet again, farewell!--I shall not forget my
promise." His lordship here alluded to some promised verses.

Having left the room he called me back, and reverting once more to my
first allusion of the rumour about his not returning, laughingly said,
"Remember, Nathan, you shall certainly see me again in body or in
spirit."