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with Lord Byron.
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ficiently to form the happiness of those we love, or to bear their loss without agony."

The whole of this conversation made a deep impression on my mind, and the countenance of the speaker, full of earnestness and feeling, impressed it still more strongly on my memory. Byron is right; a brilliant imagination is rarely, if ever, accompanied by a warm heart; but on this latter depends the happiness of life; the other renders us dissatisfied with its ordinary enjoyments.

He is an extraordinary person, indiscreet to a degree that is surprising, exposing his own feelings, and entering into details of those of others, that ought to be sacred, with a degree of frankness as unnecessary as it is rare. Incontinence of speech is his besetting sin. He is, I am persuaded, incapable of keeping any secret, however it may concern his own honor or that of another; and the first person with whom he found himself tête-à-tête would be made the confidant without any reference to his worthiness of the confidence or not. This indiscretion proceeds not from malice, but I should say, from want of delicacy of mind. To this was owing the publication of his "Farewell," addressed to Lady Byron - a farewell that must have lost all effect as an appeal to her feelings the moment it was exposed to

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