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[362] knowledge from documents and conversation, as Greg tells me, that is, at first hand. But he talks uncommonly well on all subjects; strongly, and with a kind of original force, that you rarely witness. He has a young wife, and three nice, grown — up daughters, who, with Greg, a barrister,—whose name I did not get,—one other person, and myself, filled up a very luxurious table, as far as eating and drinking are concerned. And who do you think that other person was? Nobody less than Madame Mohl;1 who talked as fast and as amusingly as ever, full of good-natured kindness, with a little subacid as usual, to give it a good flavor. The young ladies Greg accounts among the most intelligent of his acquaintance, and they certainly talk French as few English girls can; for Tocqueville came in after dinner, and we all changed language at once,2 except the Master, who evidently has but one tongue in his head, and needs but one, considering the strong use he makes of it . . . . Mad. Mohl was very kind about you, and assured me that I might consider Lizzie quite well by this time. My heart aches to think that I can't. But patience. To-morrow, letters will come. If they could only come from the middle of the Atlantic too!

July 6.—No letters! no steamer! I waited till the last moment this morning, hoping Ellen's would come before I went to breakfast with Macaulay. The postman brought sundry notes of no regard, but no letters. . . . .

The breakfast at Macaulay's was very agreeable. I suppose I ought to say very brilliant. We had just nine persons. . . . . Senior, Tocqueville, Lord Stanley, Lord Glenelg, Lord Roden, Lord Granville, and Lord Stanhope, with the Master and myself, made up Horace Walpole's number. We all walked for half an hour on the beautiful lawn behind the house, talking in squads, English where Macaulay was, French for Tocqueville's humor . . . . . The whole breakfast was very agreeable. We talked about everything, and wearied with nothing, ending with another half-hour on the lawn, in rich sunshine, where I talked all the time with Lord Granville. . . . . At half past 12 I drove to the British Museum, and worked there four hours most satisfactorily . . . . . After this I made a few visits.

. . . . I had just time, on returning home, to dress for dinner at Lord Fitzwilliam's. The family portion of the party was large, as


1 Formerly Miss Clarke. See ante, pp. 106 and 124, etc.

2 At a still later period of his life, when Mr. Ticknor's French might have been supposed to have lost some of its freshness, a French lady of cultivation said to Mr. Hillard, ‘Monsieur Ticknor parle Francais delicieusement.’

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