iful Italian portrait that I
saw, not in Augustin's gallery, but in a small collection of
pictures belonging to Mr. Day, and exhibited at the Egyptian Hall.
Sir Thomas Lawrence told me when I described it to him, that he
thought it was a painting of Giordano's. It was a lovely face, not
youthful in its character of beauty; there is a calm seriousness
about the brow and forehead, a clear, intellectual severity about
the eye, and a sweet, still placidity round the mouth, that united,
to my fancy, all the elements of beauty, physical, mental, and
moral. What an incomparable friend that woman must have been! Why
is it that we rejoice that a soul fit for heaven is constrained to
tarry here, but that, in truth, the fittest for this is also the
fittest for that life? For it seems to me more natural not to wish
to detain the bright spirit from its brighter home, and not to
sorrow at the decree which calls it hence to perfect its excellence
in higher spheres of duty....

I think a blight of uncertainty must have pervaded the atmosphere
when I was born, and penetrated, not certainly my nature, but my
whole earthly destiny, with its influence; from my plans and
projects for to-morrow on to those of next year, all is mist and
indistinct indecision. I suppose it is the trial that suits my
temper least, and therefore fits it best. It surely is that which
"willfulness, conceit, and egotism" find hardest to endure.
Yesterday I determined so far to escape from, or cheat, my destiny
as to have a peep into futurity by the help of a gypsy. Riding with
my father, and the whole hour, time, day, and scene, were in
admirable harmony: the dark, sunburnt face, with its bright,
laughing eyes and coal-black curls and flashing teeth; the old
gateway against which she was leaning; the blue summer sky and
sunny road skirted with golden corn-fields--the whole picture in
which she was set was charming.

"I know it is a sin to be a mocker;"

and I am sure I need not tell you that I am sincerely grateful for
all the kindness and civility that is bestowed upon us wherever we
go.... What with riding, rehearsing, and acting, my days are
completely filled. We start for Plymouth to-morrow at eight, and
act "Romeo and Juliet" in the evening, which is rather laborious
work.