withal, very kind, generous, and gentle, with very little pretension.
Any other head would be turned with half her acquisitions and a tenth
of her advantages.'

Such was Lady Byron at twenty. I formed her acquaintance in the year
1853, during my first visit in England. I met her at a lunch-party in
the house of one of her friends.

The party had many notables; but, among them all, my attention was fixed
principally on Lady Byron. She was at this time sixty-one years of age,
but still had, to a remarkable degree, that personal attraction which is
commonly considered to belong only to youth and beauty.

Her form was slight, giving an impression of fragility; her motions were
both graceful and decided; her eyes bright, and full of interest and
quick observation. Her silvery-white hair seemed to lend a grace to the
transparent purity of her complexion, and her small hands had a pearly
whiteness. I recollect she wore a plain widow's cap of a transparent
material; and was dressed in some delicate shade of lavender, which
harmonised well with her complexion.

When I was introduced to her, I felt in a moment the words of her
husband:--

'There was awe in the homage that she drew;
Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne.'

Calm, self-poised, and thoughtful, she seemed to me rather to resemble an
interested spectator of the world's affairs, than an actor involved in
its trials; yet the sweetness of her smile, and a certain very delicate