make me think her a genuine and good woman, unspoilt by a literary
career, and retaining more sentiment than even most girls keep beyond
seventeen. She told me that it had been the dream of her life to see
Longfellow and myself! . . . . Her dream is half accomplished now, and,
as they say Longfellow is coming over this summer, the remainder may soon
be rounded out. On taking leave, our kind hosts presented me with some
beautiful flowers, and with three volumes of a work, by themselves, on
Ireland; and Dr. ------ was favored also with some flowers, and a plant
in a pot, and Bennoch too had his hands full, . . . . and we went on our
way rejoicing.

[Here follows an account of the Lord Mayor's dinner, taken mostly for Our
Old Home; but I think I will copy this more exact description of the lady
mentioned in "Civic Banquets."--ED.]

. . . . My eyes were mostly drawn to a young lady, who sat nearly
opposite me, across the table. She was, I suppose, dark, and yet not
dark, but rather seemed to be of pure white marble, yet not white; but
the purest and finest complexion, without a shade of color in it, yet
anything but sallow or sickly. Her hair was a wonderful deep
raven-black, black as night, black as death; not raven-black, for that
has a shiny gloss, and hers had not, but it was hair never to be painted
nor described,--wonderful hair, Jewish hair. Her nose had a beautiful
outline, though I could see that it was Jewish too; and that, and all her
features, were so fine that sculpture seemed a despicable art beside her,
and certainly my pen is good for nothing. If any likeness could be
given, however; it must be by sculpture, not painting. She was slender
and youthful, and yet had a stately and cold, though soft and womanly
grace; and, looking at her, I saw what were the wives of the old
patriarchs in their maiden or early-married days,--what Judith was, for,