ere shot at Geneva. One would have
thought that this would have made a convert of him in favour of legitimate
governments. But I forget: he does not call them legitimate! He is a thick
man, of middle height, with strong features, sallow, with weak eyes, rapid
and rather indistinct in his articulation, with a character of great
generosity and kindness; but not very tolerant to others in political
thinking.

About 1802, strange lawyers perched upon the judgment-seat. Law, Pepper,
Arden, and John Mitford! The little Pepper once took it into his head to
review a cavalry regiment of fencibles, when he was Master of the Rolls.
An unruly horse of one of the officers got head in a charge, and nearly
ran over the affrighted judge. I was on the field, saw it all; and heard
the small, staring man's terrible shriek! He swore that nothing should
ever make him go soldiering again! He could not recollect his law-cases
for a fortnight to come! He had some fun about him, and was always crying
out, _"Ne sutor ultra crepidam, ne sutor ultra crepidam."_ and indeed he
looked like a shoemaker. A bowel-complaint carried him off. Perhaps it was
the fright!

A certain learned theological bishop of that fraternity, a warm
controversialist, long since dead, was of an amorous disposition. One day,
being left alone with a pretty young lady, he began to be rude to her; she
knocked off his prelated wig, and stamped it under her foot. At that time
the footman entered, and all was confusion! The girl was in tears; the
bishop's pate was bald. The footman was left to wonder! Some squibs
appeared in the papers of the day, which few understood. I wrote a piquant
epigram, which I will not revive. Old Thurlow, who was the prelate's
friend and patron, laughed outright, and clapped me on the back when I
dined with him a few days afterwards.

I have been more than once in company with Washington Irving, a most
amiable man and great genius, but not lively in conversation. The engraved
portraits I have seen of him are not very like him. He frequented the
reading-room of Galignani at Paris, and seemed to have some literary
connexions with him. There I saw Captain Medwin, the author of the book
called _Lord Byron's Conversations_, which I believe to have been
accurately reported. He was with his friend Grattan, the author of
_High-ways and Bye-ways_. I was not personally acquainted with either of
them. Grattan's flat nose is somewhat concealed in the print given