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[407] were kindly sent to us by Lady C. D., or we should have known nothing about it, and should have been sorry to have missed it, for a large number of the best singers were there,—Tamburini, Lablache, Rubini, Grisi, Malibran. . . . .

Returning some visits afterwards we found Mrs. Lockhart at home, and spent some time with her and her children, whom we shall not see again on this visit, as they go to Boulogne for a month to-morrow. She is grown a matronly woman since I saw her, and her boy, Walter, is a fine little fellow, with his grandfather's long upper lip; but in other respects she is little changed. Her Scotch accent is as broad as ever, and she is still entirely simple, frank, and kindly.

I was much gratified to have her tell me that it was the opinion of the family and friends that my picture of her father is the best one extant, and that nothing equals it except Chantrey's bust; so that I am sure of it now, for she volunteered the remark, with all her characteristic simplicity and directness.

The evening we spent very agreeably indeed, in a party collected to meet us at Mrs. Lister's.1 Mr. Parker was there, whom I saw in Boston a year ago, and who has lately carried a contested election against Lord John Russell;. . . . Lord and Lady Morley, fine old people of the best school of English character; the beautiful and unpretending Lady James Graham;. . . . Senior, the political economist; Babbage, the inventor of the great calculating machine, etc. . . . . We went at ten and came home at midnight, having enjoyed ourselves a good deal; for they were all, as far as I talked with them, highly cultivated, intellectual people.

July 12—. . . . . . From church we went, by his especial invitation, to see Babbage's calculating machine; and I must say, that during an explanation which lasted between two and three hours, given by himself with great spirit, the wonder at its incomprehensible powers grew upon us every moment. The first thing that struck me was its small size, being only about two feet wide, two feet deep, and two and a half high. The second very striking circumstance was the fact that the inventor himself does not profess to know all the powers of the


1 Mrs. Thomas Lister,—afterwards Lady Theresa,—sister to Lord Clarendon. After Mr. Lister's death she became, in 1844, the wife of Sir George Cornewall Lewis; and, beside her novel ‘Dacre,’—reprinted in America before 1835,—she published, in 1852, the ‘Lives of Friends and Contemporaries of Lord Chancellor Clarendon.’ Her beauty was celebrated. Mr. Lister was the author of ‘Granby,’ ‘Herbert Lacy,’ etc., and of a life of Lord Chancellor Clarendon.

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