is indelible), having
been, I believe, among the first who had seen that fine play in
manuscript. The dinner party consisted merely of Mr. Wordsworth, Mr.
Landor, and I think Mr. Forster. By a singular coincidence it was our
host's birthday, and no one present can forget the triumph of the
evening--a triumph of no common order as regarded the number, the quality,
or the enthusiasm of the audience; the boxes being crammed to the ceiling,
and the pit filled, as in an elder day, with critics and gentlemen.

A large party followed the poet home to supper, a party comprising
distinguished persons of almost every class; lawyers, authors, actors,
artists, all were mingled around that splendid board; healths were drunk
and speeches spoken, and it fell to the lot of the young author of
"Paracelsus" to respond to the toast of "The Poets of England." That he
performed this task with grace and modesty, and that he looked still
younger than he was, I well remember; but we were not introduced, and I
knew him only by those successive works which redeemed the pledge that
"Paracelsus" had given, until this very summer, when going to London
purposely to meet my beloved friend, I was by her presented to her
husband. Ah! I hope it will not be fifteen years before we look each other
in the face again!

Incidents Of A Visit At The House Of William Cobbett.

The name of Blamire has always a certain interest for me, in consequence
of a circumstance, which, as it took place somewhere about five-and-forty
years ago, and has reference to a flirtation of twenty years previous,
there can not now be much harm in relating.

Being with my father and mother on a visit about six miles from
Southampton, we were invited by a gentleman of the neighborhood to meet
the wife and daughters of a certain Dr. Blamire. "An old friend of yours
and mine," quoth our inviter to my father. "Don't you remember how you
used to flirt with the fair lady when you and Babington were at Haslar?
Faith, if Blamire had not taken pity on her, it would have gone hard with
the poor damsel! However, he made up to the disconsolate maiden, and she
got over it. Nothing like a new love for chasing away an old one. You must
dine with us to-morrow. I shall like to see the meeting."

My father did not attempt to deny the matter. Men never do. He laughed, as
all that wicked sex do laugh at such sins twenty years after, and
professed that he should be very glad to shake hands wit