gentle diffidence of manner and sweet,
melancholy expression in his handsome face that did no justice to a keen
perception of humor and relish of fun, which nobody who did not know him
intimately would have suspected him of.

Of Lady Ellesmere I have already said that she was a sort of idol of
mine in my girlhood, when first I knew her, and to the end of her life
continued to be an object of my affectionate admiration. She was
excellently conscientious, true, and upright; of a direct and simple
integrity of mind and character which her intercourse with the great
world to which she belonged never impaired, and which made her singular
and unpopular in the artificial society of English high life. Her
appearance always seemed to me strikingly indicative of her mind and
character. The nobly delicate and classical outline of her face, her
pure, transparent complexion, and her clear, fearless eyes were all
outward and visible expressions of her peculiar qualities. Her
beautifully shaped head and fine profile always reminded me of the
Pallas Athene on some antique gem, and the riding cap with the visor,
which she first made fashionable, increased the classical resemblance.
She was curiously wanting in imagination, and I never heard anything
more comically literal than her description of her own utter
_destitution_ of poetical taste. After challenging in vain her
admiration for the great poets of our language, I quoted to her, not
without misgiving, some charmingly graceful and tender lines, addressed
to herself by her husband, and asked her if she did not like those: "Oh
yes," replied she, "I think they are very nice, but you know I think
they would be just as nice _if they were not verses_; and whenever I
hear any poetry that I like at all, I always think how much better I
should like it if it was prose;" an explanation of her taste that
irresistibly reminded me of the delightful Frenchman's sentiment about
spinach: "Je n'aime pas les epinards, et je suis si content que je ne
les aime pas! parce que si je les aimais, j'en mangerais beaucoup, et je
ne peux pas les souffrir."

My intercourse with Lady Ellesmere, which had been a good deal
interrupted during the years I passed out of England, was renewed the
year before her death, when I visited her at Hatchford, where she was
residing in her widowhood, and where I promised her when I left her I
would return and stay with her again, but was never fortunate enough to
do so, her