thrown in her way; and how she acquired, so early in life as she did, an insight into those subjects of foreign lore which she afterwards displayed a thorough acquaintance with, was little short of a mystery. At the period to which we have now arrived she was well read in French, and almost equally well in Italian, literature. She had, in truth, been an indefatigable reader; and while triflers in society listened, expecting that her talk would be of moonlight and roses, they were often surprised to hear her—unless mirth happened to be her object, and satire or mystification her choice—discussing the character of a distant age, or the rise of a great nation; the influence of a mighty genius upon his contemporaries; the value of a creed outworn; or some historical event, a judgment of which demanded—what she would not fail to exhibit if she spoke at all—an insight into the actors, the policy, and the manners of the time to which it related. Her studies, in short, put her in possession of great advantages, which her excellent memory enabled her to turn readily to account.
With this picture—most imperfect as it is—before us, a peep into the "boudoir" of L. E. L. may be acceptable. By an amiable female friend of hers, who writes with all the fervour of youth, we have been favoured with some impressions to which we shall recur hereafter; in this place may be introduced her recollections of the scene amidst which the inspiration of poetry had birth;—the description is "graphic." "Genius," says our accomplished informant, "hallows every place where it pours forth its inspirations. Yet how strongly contrasted, sometimes, is the outward reality around the poet, with the visions of his inward being. Is it not D'Israeli, in his 'Curiosities of Literature,' referring
