places required something like an effort of genius. To the perplexity this occasioned her, and to a poem on a subject of Indian history, which merits more than a passing note of praise, L. E. L. alludes in one of those rambling and characteristic letters by which she often sought to divert her friends, and in which a friend might always read her thoughts and fancies upon any subject, philosophical or frivolous, just as it occurred to her. The following, addressed to Mrs. S. C. Hall, may serve as a specimen—

"I have been just hurried out of my life with getting my 'Drawing-room Scrap-book' finished. I sent off my last packet of manuscript by yester-noon's post, and to-day I write to you. The volume just completed contains one long poem founded on Indian history; a connected story called the 'Zenana,' and longer than the ' Venetian Bracelet.' How my ingenuity has been taxed to introduce the different places! and, pray, forgive this little tender effusion of vanity, I do pique myself on contriving to get from Dowlutabad to Shusher, and Penawa, and the Triad Figure in the Caves of Elephante, and from thence to Ibrahim Padshah's tomb, &c., &c. But I am too sick of all these hard names to inflict any more upon you. It is four years since I have written a long poem. I cannot describe to you the enjoyment of going back again to 'my first-love and my last.' I can only say that writing poetry is like writing one's native language, and writing prose, writing in a strange tongue. So much for myself; as for others, I have scarcely been out of the house. Yesterday I dined at Lady——'s, and had a very pleasant evening; there I met sir—— ——, one of the most pleasant and intelligent men I have