he midst of the forest trees,
And heard the sweet sigh of the wandering breeze,
And this with the tinkle of heifer bells,
As they trill on the ear from the dewy dells,
Are the sounds in my palace of memories.

IV.

"I looked in the face of a little child,
With its fugitive dimples and eyes so wild,
It springs off with a bound like a wild gazelle,
It is off and away, but I've caught my[1]
And here's mirth for my palace of memories.

V.

"In the morning we meet on a mountain height,
And we walk and converse till the fall of night,
We hold hands for a moment, then pass on our way,
But that which I've got from the friend of a day,
I'll keep in my palace of memories."

[Footnote 1: Word here illegible.]

The verses which Landor praised with enthusiasm so excessive were
most, or I think all of them, published in the annual edited by his
friend Lady Blessington, and were all written before our marriage. I
have many long letters addressed to her by that lady, and several by
her niece Miss Power, respecting them. They always in every instance
ask for "more."

Many of her verses she set to music, especially one little poemlet,
which I remember to this day the tune of, which she called the _Song
of the Blackbird_, and which was, if I remember rightly, made to
consist wholly of the notes uttered by the bird.

Another instance of her "multiform faculty" was her learning landscape
sketching. I have spoken of her figure drawing. And this, I take it,
was the real bent of her talent in that line. But unable to compass
the likeness of a haystack myself, I was desirous of possessing some
record of the many journeys which I designed to take, and eventually
did take with her. And wholly to please me she forthwith made the
attempt, and though her landscape was never equal to her figure
drawing, I possess some couple of hundred of water-colour sketches
done by her from nature on the spot.

I used to say that if I wanted a Sanscrit dictionary, I had only to
put her head straight at it, and let her feel the spur, and it would
have been done!

We lived together seventeen happy years. During the five first, I
think I may say that she lived wholly and solely in, by, and for me.
That she should live for somebody other than herself was an absolute
indefeasible necessity of her nature. During the last twelve years I
shared her heart with her daughter. Her intense worship for her "Baby
Beatrice