The next morning we breakfasted with Mr. Rogers. He lives, as you
probably know, in [a] beautiful house, though small, whose rooms
look upon the Green Park, and filled with pictures and marbles. We
stayed an hour or more after the other guests, listening to his
stores of literary anecdote and pleasant talk. In the evening we
went to the Miss Berrys', where we found Lord Morpeth, who is much
attached to them. Miss Berry put her hand on his head, which is
getting a little gray, and said: "Ah, George, and I remember the
day you were born, your grandmother brought you and put you in my
arms." Now this grandmother of Lord Morpeth's was the celebrated
Duchess of Devonshire, who electioneered for Fox, and he led her to
tell me all about her. "Eothen" was also there, Lady Lewis and many
of my friends. . . . Aunty wishes to know who is "Eothen." She has
probably read his book, "Eothen, or Traces of Travel," which was
very popular two or three years since. He is a young lawyer, Mr.
Kinglake, the most modest, unassuming person in his manners, very
shy and altogether very unlike the dashing, spirited young
Englishman I figured to myself, whom nothing could daunt from the
Arab even to the plague, which he defied.



LETTER: To I.P.D.



Dear Uncle and Aunt: On Thursday [the 25th] we were invited to Sir
John Pakington's, whose wife is the Bishop of Rochester's daughter,
but were engaged to Mr. Senior, who had asked us to meet the
Archbishop of Dublin, the celebrated Dr. Whately. He had come over