I was asked yesterday evening to go to Sir John Burke’s, to meet another heroine who was very curious to see me.  Whom do you think?  Lady Morgan.  I thought, however, that, if I went, I might not improbably figure in her next novel; and, as I am not ambitious of such an honour, I kept away.  If I could fall in with her at a great party, where I could see unseen and hear unheard, I should very much like to make observations on her; but I certainly will not, if I can help it, meet her face to face, lion to lioness.

That confounded chattering —­, has just got into an argument about the Church with an Irish papist who has seated himself at my elbow; and they keep such a din that I cannot tell what I am writing.  There they go.  The Lord Lieutenant—­the Bishop of Derry-Magee—­O’Connell—­ your Bible meetings—­your Agitation meetings—­the propagation of the Gospel—­Maynooth College—­the Seed of the Woman shall bruise the Serpent’s head.  My dear Lieutenant, you will not only bruise, but break, my head with your clatter.  Mercy! mercy!  However, here I am at the end of my letter, and I shall leave the two demoniacs to tear each other to pieces.

Ever yours

T. B. M.

To Hannah and Margaret Macaulay.

Library of the H. of C.
July 30, 1832, 11 o’clock at night.

My dear Sisters,—­Here I am.  Daniel Whittle Harvey is speaking; the House is thin; the subject is dull; and I have stolen away to write to you.  Lushington is scribbling at my side.  No sound is heard but the scratching of our pens, and the ticking of the clock.  We are in a far better atmosphere than in the smoking-room, whence I wrote to you last week; and the company is more decent, inasmuch as that naval officer, whom Nancy blames me for describing in just terms, is not present.

By the bye, you know doubtless the lines which are in the mouth of every member of Parliament, depicting the comparative merits of the two rooms.  They are, I think, very happy.

 If thou goest into the Smoking-room
 Three plagues will thee befall,—­
 The chloride of lime, the tobacco smoke,
 And the Captain who’s worst of all,
 The canting Sea-captain,
 The prating Sea-captain,
 The Captain who’s worst of all.

 If thou goest into the Library
 Three good things will thee befall,—­
 Very good books, and very good air,
 And M*c**l*y, who’s best of all,
 The virtuous M*c**l*y,
 The prudent M*c**l*y,
 M*c**l*y who’s best of all.

Oh, how I am worked!  I never see Fanny from Sunday to Sunday.  All my civilities wait for that blessed day; and I have so many scores of visits to pay that I can scarcely find time for any of that Sunday reading in which, like Nancy, I am in the habit of indulging.  Yesterday, as soon as I was fixed in my best and had breakfasted, I paid a round of calls to all my friends who had the cholera.  Then I walked to all the clubs of which I am a member, to see the newspapers.