probably select. He has passages equal to any thing. At present, he has
a party, but no public--except for his prose writings. The life of
Nelson is beautiful.

"* * is a _Littérateur_, the Oracle of the Coteries, of the * * s, L * W
* (Sydney Smith's 'Tory Virgin'), Mrs. Wilmot, (she, at least, is a
swan, and might frequent a purer stream,) Lady B * *, and all the Blues,
with Lady C * * at their head--but I say nothing of _her_--'look in her
face and you forget them all,' and every thing else. Oh that face!--by
'te, Diva potens Cypri,' I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and
burn another Troy.

"M * * e has a peculiarity of talent, or rather talents,--poetry, music,
voice, all his own; and an expression in each, which never was, nor will
be, possessed by another. But he is capable of still higher flights in
poetry. By the by, what humour, what--every thing, in the 'Post-Bag!'
There is nothing M * * e may not do, if he will but seriously set about
it. In society, he is gentlemanly, gentle, and, altogether, more
pleasing than any individual with whom I am acquainted. For his honour,
principle, and independence, his conduct to * * * * speaks
'trumpet-tongued.' He has but one fault--and that one I daily regret--he
is not _here_.

[Footnote 94: It was thus that he, in general, spelled this word.]


"Nov. 23.

"Ward--I like Ward.[95] By Mahomet! I begin to think I like every
body;--a disposition not to be encouraged;--a sort of social gluttony