general decorum of modern manners that Isabella Forrester’s gown could only slip entirely off her exquisite bust.  I suppose I felt as poor Gibson, the sculptor, who, looking at his friend and pupil’s (Miss Hosmer’s) statue of Beatrice Cenci, the back of which was copied from that of Lady A——­ T——­, exclaimed in his slow, measured, deliberate manner, “And to think that the cursed prejudices of society prevent my seeing that beautiful back!” Count and Countess Batthyany (she the former widow of the celebrated Austrian general, Bubna, a most distinguished and charming woman) were visitors at Heaton at this time, as was also Henry Greville, with whom I then first became acquainted, and who from that time until his death was my kind and constant friend.  He was for several years attached to the embassy in Paris, and afterward had some small nominal post in the household of the Duchess of Cambridge, and was Gentleman Gold-Stick in waiting at court.  He was not in any way intellectually remarkable; he had a passion for music, and was one of the best society singers of his day, being (that, to me, incomprehensible thing) a melomane for one kind of music only.  Passionately fond of Italian operatic music, he did not understand, and therefore cordially detested, German music.  He had a passion for the stage; but though he delighted in acting he did not particularly excel in it.  He had a taste for everything elegant and refined, and his small house in May-Fair was a perfect casket full of gems.  He was a natural exquisite, and perfectly simple and unaffected, a great authority in all matters of fashion both in Paris and in London, and a universal favorite, especially with the women, in the highest society of both capitals.  His social position, friendly intimacy with several of the most celebrated musical and dramatic artists of his day, passion for political and private gossip, easy and pleasant style of letter-writing, and general rather supercilious fastidiousness, used sometimes to remind me of Horace Walpole.  He had a singularly kind heart and amiable nature, for a life of mere frivolous pleasure had not impaired the one or the other.  His serviceableness to his friends was unwearied, and his generous liberality toward all whom he could help either with his interest, his trouble, or his purse was unfailing.

The whole gay party assembled at Heaton, my mother and myself included, went to Liverpool for the opening of the railroad.  The throng of strangers gathered there for the same purpose made it almost impossible to obtain a night’s lodging for love or money; and glad and thankful were we to put up with and be put up in a tiny garret by our old friend, Mr. Radley, of the Adelphi, which many would have given twice what we paid to obtain.  The day opened gloriously, and never was seen an innumerable concourse of sight-seers in better humor than the surging, swaying crowd that lined the railroad with living faces.  How dreadfully that brilliant opening was overcast I have described