little Geordie (as they called the child), starting from his seat,
cried out boldly, "But I say it is the moon, sir."

The short visit of Captain Byron to Aberdeen has already been
mentioned, and he again passed two or three months in that city,
before his last departure for France. On both occasions, his chief
object was to extract still more money, if possible, from the
unfortunate woman whom he had beggared; and so far was he successful,
that, during his last visit, narrow as were her means, she contrived
to furnish him with the money necessary for his journey to
Valenciennes,[12] where, in the following year, 1791, he died. Though
latterly Mrs. Byron would not see her husband, she entertained, it is
said, a strong affection for him to the last; and on those occasions,
when the nurse used to meet him in her walks, would enquire of her
with the tenderest anxiety as to his health and looks. When the
intelligence of his death, too, arrived, her grief, according to the
account of this same attendant, bordered on distraction, and her
shrieks were so loud as to be heard in the street. She was, indeed, a
woman full of the most passionate extremes, and her grief and
affection were bursts as much of temper as of feeling. To mourn at
all, however, for such a husband was, it must be allowed, a most
gratuitous stretch of generosity. Having married her, as he openly
avowed, for her fortune alone, he soon dissipated this, the solitary
charm she possessed for him, and was then unmanful enough to taunt her
with the inconveniences of that penury which his own extravagance had
occasioned.

When not quite five years old, young Byron was sent to a day-school at
Aberdeen, taught by Mr. Bowers,[13] and remained there, with some
interruptions, during a twelvemonth, as appears by the following