full-blown swan does its plumage. She would take possession of the
centre of a large sofa, and at the same moment, without the
slightest visible exertion, cover the whole of it with her bravery,
the graceful folds seeming to lay themselves over it, like summer
waves. The descent from her carriage, too, where she sat like a
nautilus in its shell, was a display which no one in these days
could accomplish or even fancy. The mulberry-coloured coach,
apparently not too large for what it contained, though she alone was
in it; the handsome, jolly coachman and his splendid hammer-cloth
loaded with lace; the two respectful liveried footmen, one on each
side of the richly carpeted step,--these were lost sight of amidst
the slow majesty with which the Lady of Inverleith came down and
touched the earth.'

My right-hand neighbour at Lady Baird's dinner was surprised at my
quoting Lord Cockburn. One's attendant squires here always seem
surprised when one knows anything; but they are always delighted,
too, so that the amazement is less trying. True, I had read the
Memorials only the week before, and had never heard of them previous
to that time; but that detail, according to my theories, makes no
real difference. The woman who knows how and when to `read up,' who
reads because she wants to be in sympathy with a new environment;
the woman who has wit and perspective enough to be stimulated by
novel conditions and kindled by fresh influences, who is susceptible
to the vibrations of other people's history, is safe to be fairly
intelligent and extremely agreeable, if only she is sufficiently
modest. I think my neighbour found me thoroughly delightful after
he discovered my point of view. He was an earl; and it always takes
an earl a certain length of time to understand me. I scarcely know
why, for I certainly should not think it courteous to interpose any