the kindly and pleasant evening.
As no one would take a penny, we shall send books to the library, or
a contribution to the school, all our neighbours being quite anxious
to pay, though not willing to fraternise. I shall send cravats as a
badge to the "Gordon volunteers."

'I enclose a letter from Eothen [Kinglake] about Paris, which will
interest you. My friends of yesterday unanimously decided that Louis
Blanc would "just suit the 'lazy set.'"

'We had one row, which, however, ceased on the appearance of our
stalwart troop; indeed, I think one Birmingham smith, a handsome
fellow six feet high, whose vehement disinterestedness would neither
allow to eat, drink, or sleep in the house, would have scattered
them.'

Mr. and Mrs. Austin established themselves at Weybridge in a low,
rambling cottage, and we spent some summers with them. The house was
cold and damp, and our dear Hassan died in 1850 from congestion of the
lungs. I always attributed my mother's bad health to the incessant colds
she caught there. I can see before me now her beautiful pale face
bending over poor Hassan as she applied leeches to his chest, which a new
maid refused to do, saying, with a toss of her head, 'Lor! my lady, I
couldn't touch either of 'em!' The flash of scorn with which she
regarded the girl softened into deep affection and pity when she looked
down on her faithful Nubian servant.

In 1851 my father took a house at Esher, which was known as 'The Gordon
Arms,' and much frequented by our friends. In a letter, written about
that time to C. J. Bayley, then secretary to the Governor of the
Mauritius, Lady Duff Gordon gives the first note of alarm as to her
health: 'I fear you would think me very much altered since my illness; I
look thin, ill, and old, and my hair is growing gray. This I consider
hard upon a woman just over her thirtieth birthday. I continue to like
Esher very much; I don't think we could have placed ourselves better.
Kinglake has given Alick a great handsome chestnut mare, so he is well
mounted, and we ride merrily. I expressed such exultation at the idea of
your return that my friends, all but Alick, refused to sympathize.
Philips, Millais, and Dicky Doyle talked of jealousy, and Tom Taylor
muttered something about a "hated rival." Meanwhile, all send friendly
greetings to you.'

One summer Macaulay was often at Esher, his brother-in-law having taken a
house