Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1

[85] Hon. Basil Montagu, and Mrs. Basil--furthermore, Annie and I did went alone to a rout at Mrs. Sydney Smith's, and were announced, “Mrs. 'Owe hand Miss Vord” --did not know a soul, Annie frightened, I bored — got hold of some good people — made friends, drank execrable tea, finished the evening by a crack with Sir Sydney himself, and came off victorious, that is to say alive. Sir S. very like old Mrs. Prime, three chins, and such a corporosity!...

Saturday, June 2nd. We have been too busy to write. We dined on Wednesday with Kenyon — present Dickens's wife, Fellows, Milnes and some others — Milnes a pert little prig, but pleasant. A propos, when he came to call upon us, our girl announced him as “Mr. Miller” --our conversation ran upon literature, and I had the exquisite discrimination to tell him that except Wordsworth, there were no great poets in England now. Fortunately he soon took his departure, and thus prevented me from expressing the light estimation in which I hold his poetry. On Thursday Morpeth gave us a beautiful dinner--thirteen servants in the hall, powdered heads, Lady Carlisle very like Morpeth--Lady Mary Howard not pretty; Duchess of Sutherland, beautiful, but like Lizzie Hogg. They gave us strawberries, the first we have tasted, green peas, pines, peaches, apricots, grapes — all very expensive. We stayed until nearly twelve--they were very gracious-Annie and I are little people here — we are too young(?) to be noticed — we are very demure, and have learned humility. Chev receives a great deal of attention, ladies press forward to look at him, roll up