The hope of once more seeing Lady Byron was one of the brightest
anticipations held out to me in this journey. I found London quite
deserted; but, hearing that Lady Byron was still in town, I sent to her,
saying in my note, that, in case she was not well enough to call, I would
visit her. Her reply I give:--

'MY DEAR FRIEND,--I will be indebted to you for our meeting, as I am
barely able to leave my room. It is not a time for small
personalities, if they could ever exist with you; and, dressed or
undressed, I shall hope to see you after two o'clock.

'Yours very truly,

'A. I. NOEL BYRON.'

I found Lady Byron in her sick-room,--that place which she made so
different from the chamber of ordinary invalids. Her sick-room seemed
only a telegraphic station whence her vivid mind was flashing out all
over the world.

By her bedside stood a table covered with books, pamphlets, and files of
letters, all arranged with exquisite order, and each expressing some of
her varied interests. From that sick-bed she still directed, with
systematic care, her various works of benevolence, and watched with
intelligent attention the course of science, literature, and religion;
and the versatility and activity of her mind, the flow of brilliant and
penetrating thought on all the topics of the day, gave to the
conversations of her retired room a peculiar charm. You forgot that she
was an invalid; for she rarely had a word of her own personalities, and
the charm of her conversation carried you invariably from herself to the