the drawing-room, to play with the young people at a round game. He
was then a fat bashful boy, with his hair combed straight over his
forehead, and extremely like a miniature picture that his mother had
painted by M. de Chambruland. The next morning Mrs. Byron brought him
to call at our house, when he still continued shy and formal in his
manner. The conversation turned upon Cheltenham, where we had been
staying, the amusements there, the plays, &c.; and I mentioned that I
had seen the character of Gabriel Lackbrain very well performed. His
mother getting up to go, he accompanied her, making a formal bow, and
I, in allusion to the play, said, "Good by, Gaby." His countenance
lighted up, his handsome mouth displayed a broad grin, all his shyness
vanished, never to return, and, upon his mother's saying 'Come, Byron,
are you ready?'--no, she might go by herself, he would stay and talk a
little longer; and from that moment he used to come in and go out at
all hours, as it pleased him, and in our house considered himself
perfectly at home."

To this lady was addressed the earliest letter from his pen that has
fallen into my hands. He corresponded with many of his Harrow
friends,--with Lord Clare, Lord Powerscourt, Mr. William Peel, Mr.
William Bankes, and others. But it was then little foreseen what
general interest would one day attach to these school-boy letters; and
accordingly, as I have already had occasion to lament, there are but
few of them now in existence. The letter, of which I have spoken, to
his Southwell friend, though containing nothing remarkable, is perhaps
for that very reason worth insertion, as serving to show, on comparing
it with most of its successors, how rapidly his mind acquired
confidence in its powers. There is, indeed, one charm for the eye of
curiosity in his juvenile manuscripts, which they necessarily want in
their printed form; and that is the strong evidence of an irregular