intelligence from my lawyer that a cause has been gained at Lancaster
assizes,[49] which will be worth that sum by the time I come of age.
Mrs. B. is, doubtless, acquainted of this acquisition, though not
apprised of its exact _value_, of which she had better be ignorant.
You may give my compliments to her, and say that her detaining my
servant's things shall only lengthen my absence; for unless they are
immediately despatched to 16. Piccadilly, together with those which
have been so long delayed, belonging to myself, she shall never again
behold my _radiant countenance_ illuminating her gloomy mansion. If
they are sent, I may probably appear in less than two years from the
date of my present epistle.

"Metrical compliment is an ample reward for my strains; you are one of
the few votaries of Apollo who unite the sciences over which that
deity presides. I wish you to send my poems to my lodgings in London
immediately, as I have several alterations and some additions to make;
_every_ copy must be sent, as I am about to _amend_ them, and you
shall soon behold them in all their glory. _Entre nous_,--you may
expect to see me soon. Adieu.

Yours ever."


From these letters it will be perceived that Lord Byron was already
engaged in preparing a collection of his poems for the press. The
idea of printing them first occurred to him in the parlour of that
cottage which, during his visits to Southwell, had become his adopted
home. Miss Pigot, who was not before aware of his turn for versifying,
had been reading aloud the poems of Burns, when young Byron said that
"he, too, was a poet sometimes, and would write down for her some