and I have just received the kindest letter from Lord Munster. Do, pray, thank Count D'Orsay; but he is always so kind. Will you excuse this scrawl? but I am in a fever of hope and fear. L. E. LANDON.

"Mr. Montague, who has been the kindest friend in the world, is the bearer of this. He originally proposed to me, suggesting [ J's name, and has carried on the project with the zeal and ability he throws into every thing that he undertakes."

"28 Upper Berkeley Street West, Connaught Square.

"Once more, but for, I hope, the last time, I venture to trouble you. According to your advice, I have hazarded a brief note to the various vice-presidents, entreating the performance of their promises on the 12th of April. I do not hope for more than to induce Lord Carrington to be neutral, as the lawyers say, 'to show cause.' I inclose a parallel of the claims of the rival candidates. I also inclose a letter which my brother is under the necessity of circulating.

"This very morning has brought letters from Tavistock, his parish, where he was curate for five years, signed by all the proper authorities, and sixty heads of families, relative to his high character, and another from the Literary Institution, bearing testimony to his exertions and abilities, signed by every leading person in the neighborhood. He also originated three schools in different parishes, supported by his own zealous endeavors. Mr. B― is quite right in saying that we are poor; I do not know how it could be otherwiseleft at a very early age, dependent on our own exertions, with helpless relatives looking to us for support; but it only makes his conduct doubly cruel. "I have one more favor to ask. Would you write a note to W. H. Harrison, Esq., Crown Office, Bridge Street? He is the editor of the Friendship's Offering.'

"I am sure you will excuse this scrawl; but really I am so nervous that I I scarcely know what I am doing. A thousand thanks for all your kindness. "Your most grateful L. E. L."

"28 Upper Berkeley Street West.-P.M., April, 1836. "We were 28 to 24-the vice-presidents carried it. The poll was about to close, when Lord John Russell drove into the court, so did Sir Robert Peel, and gave it to us. "Lord Ellenborough voted against us. I know you will forgive this scrawl -but we owe you so much-I really can not write. God bless you.

"L. E. LANDON."

with "the Literary

] mainly through

The situation sought for, in connection Fund," was obtained for the Rev. Mr. [ the influence and untiring exertions of Lady Blessington. This gentleman was a young clergyman of most exemplary life and

amiable disposition. Bad health had compelled him to relinquish a clerical appointment he had obtained in London. In 1842 he had served as curate sixteen years, but at that date the recent death of his uncle, the late Dean of Exeter, had wrecked all his hopes of preferment. But the interest which Lady Blessington took in his welfare still continued, and was still manifested actively and efficiently.

"May 10, 1838.

"A thousand thanks for all your kindness. What can have become of Mr. Damer's note I know not. Unluckily, I left my letter, with one or two others, to be sealed, and fear it was done carelessly. However, it is of little moment, as I dined with Mrs. Damer yesterday, who told me that she was going to give her last sitting to Mr. Lucas next week; and that she and the boy, who are drawn together, can be separated. She will be happy, very, to have the portraits in both works. If they can not be separated, still, she would be happy, if you like, to have them together.

"Yours most truly,

L. E. LANDON."

"I would have sent the illustration, but last night I was fairly tired out. I have an idea for a poem, which, for so brief a space, will, I think, be better than prose.

"Can it be called 'My Lady Love,' or 'Amina?'

L. E. LANDON."

"I have the pleasure of sending you the story; I have made it as short as possible, and only hope that you will like it. The engraving is singularly beautiful and fanciful, and had it been poetry, I might have ventured on the supernatural; but we are too matter of fact nowadays to venture it in prose: an Oriental sketch, both to suit the character of the engraving, and yet allow reality to the scene. Pray pardon this little explanation; but it is impossible not to wish to do one's best when the judgment I hope to please is at once so distinguished and so kind as that of your ladyship. L. E. LANDON."

"My brother read me your very kind note, which I felt so much obliged by that I declared I should answer it immediately; this, however, has not been in my power till to-day, the first time that I can really say I am better. I never, positively, suffered so much from an illness before; at one time they were afraid that it would turn to typhus, but now that the fever has left me I shall rapidly recover. This is a sad scrawl, but I feel so gratified by a note I saw of yours to-day, that I must write to thank you, whether you can read the thanks or not. It is rather a curious thing that, when I made my agreement with Messrs. Fisher, your name was my sole recommendation, about six weeks ago.

"I can not say how deeply I feel all your kindness. I know nothing to which I refer with more keen gratification than your assistance, your sympathy, your praise. I must indeed be forgetful when I forget.

"Dearest madam, your very grateful

L. E. LANDON."

Lines of L. E. L. inclosed in a note addressed to Lady Blessington.

ON THE PORTRAIT OF MISS COCAGNE, BY L. E. L.
"A dark-eyed beauty, one on whom the South

Has lavished loveliness; the red rose, stooping,
Has cast its shadow on that small, sweet mouth,

Whose lip is with its weight of sweetness drooping,
Like the dark hyacinth in the early spring.

Those long, soft curls in graceful rings descending,
Dark as the feather of the raven's wing,

With just one touch of golden sunshine blending.
Fair as thou art, a deeper charm is thine;

So sweet a face inspires a thousand fancies;
The history that we know not we divine,

And for thy sake invent such fair romances,
And give the fancied names, and say less bright
Were they the heroines of chivalric story,
When ready spears flung round their silver light,
And beauty gave the noblest crown to glory.
Such were the eyes that over Surrey cast
The deep enchantment of his graceful numbers,
What time the early vision by him past

Of Geraldine, just called in magic slumbers.
So soft, so dark the eyes that governed Spain
When Isabella was the worshiped sovereign,

The crown of gold and pearl could scarce restrain."

CHAPTER IV.

THE CONTESSA AMERICA VESPUCCI.

IN 1839 I had the pleasure of being made acquainted with this remarkable lady. She was then about thirty years of age, of fine features, symmetrically formed, of the perfect Italian style of beauty, with more of Juno's characteristics than of Venus's peculiarities in its excellency. Her figure was commanding, full, strongly set up, and finely moulded; her eyes were dark and

career.

wonderfully brilliant; her hair black as jet, and of extraordinary length and abundance. She possessed talents of no common order; but the most striking of all her qualities was her indomitable courage, and a rather strong propensity for seeking occasions for the display of it. Public opinion was not so much set at defiance as utterly lost sight of by her throughout her whole Yet her general conduct was irreproachable; and some who misconstrued her ordinary singularity of manners and mode of life, and the apparent levity of her behavior before the world, have paid very dearly for the mistaken estimate they had made of her virtue, and the insults they had offered to it. Madame Vespucci is of an ancient noble family of Florence, a lineal descendant of the famous explorer who gave his name to the New World. At a very early age she attached herself to an adherent of the elder brother of Prince Louis Napoleon.

In one of the abortive insurrections of Italy, she followed her insurgent friend from place to place, in male attire, exposed to great perils, but quite regardless of them. In the engagement with the Austrian troops at Rimini she was wounded and left for dead on the field. In this state she was found by some peasants, carried to a place of shelter and security, and was finally restored to health. She has traveled extensively in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. In Africa, a friend of mine, Lieutenant Fairholme, an officer in the navy, owed his life to her generous efforts and interference with the commander of a French vessel of war in his behalf; and in the same ship, wrecked on the western coast, a French officer in the navy was severely wounded by her, under circumstances which alone could justify the very extreme proceeding of discharging a pistol at the head of a person quite unprepared for any similar reception. Madame Vespucci's conversation is original and amusing, full of animation, abounding in incidents of travel, highly interesting and graphic when descriptive of scenes or people of distant lands she is familiar with. She possesses a certain wild, unsteady energy and cleverness. She is naturally restless, unsettled in religious opinions, of a romantic turn, of intense vanity, being tormented with a constant desire to excite attention, and

LETTER FROM THE CONTESSA AMERICA VESPUCCI. 79

to be accounted philosophical and heroical. About thirteen years ago she proceeded to America to urge a claim on the United States government for a grant of land, in virtue of her descent from the famous Americus Vespuccius.

The government, however, of the United States declined the application for a grant of land, but signified its readiness to recommend to Congress a grant of money-an offer which was indignantly refused by the lady. The last time her name came before the public was in a report of some police proceedings at Boulogne, the countess being charged with presenting a pistol at the head of a custom-house officer, who had acted on the suspicion of her having contraband articles on her person.

LETTER FROM THE CONTESSA AMERICA VESPUCCI TO LADY

BLESSINGTON.

"MA CHÈRE MILADY,-Je viens vous ecrire sans but ni raison. J'ai un de ces besoins étranges de vous dire une quantité des choses, de vous communiquer des réfléxions sans ordre, mais telles qui les sont presentés à mon imagination, et que sais-je; c'est absolument comme une jeune fille née dans un pays superstitieuse qui a besoin de confesser ses propres pensées, que dans son ignorance elle les appelle pechés, à l'homme qui a su lui inspirer la confiance. Je suis ce matin dans une de cès dispositions d'esprit qu'on éprouve si souvent après que l'âme a passés des moments penibles, et que pour se distraire elle se jette avec ses pensées dans l'espace de l'univers, voyage fort incommode, esperant trouver encore le beau et le grand que sa nature ambitieuse a besoin dit elle pour fixer son bonheur. Après une de ces nuits fatiguant par les forces de l'imagination exaltée, ou le monde, les hommes, et les choses defilent devant vous, comme le fait un regiment des soldats devant son général le jour d'une révue, où vous êtes obligé de convenir que le passé vous a trop appris, que le present n'a pas d'interêt, et que l'avenir est devenue une charade qu'il ne vous interesse plus de deviner, vous vous demandez, que but ai-je à vivre ne l'est pas milady que c'est horrible, jeune encore être condamné par l'experience à convenir de ce que c'est, la realite de la vie? Souvent je suis tenté de maudire le jour ou j'ai appris l'A. B. C., à quoi bon me dis-je connaître avec les théories ce que c'est l'homme? à quoi sert il de raisonner sur les follies faiblesses, et souvent les bassesses? peut il être autrement de ce qu'il est de sa nature?

"Alors l'imagination qui se sent humilié de ce contact, cherche à s'elever, elle monte jusqu'à Dieu en haut jusqu'à ce grand moteur qui regle la matière et distribue le mouvement à l'immense édifice de l'univers-là, la pensée à champ libre, elle court et parcourt les regions inconnues avec son audace,