He was
quite unknown to the family, but comes and goes at his pleasure, the
picture being as freely at his service as if it were an outside
landscape.
After finishing our survey, I went with Lady Carlisle into her own
_boudoir_. There I saw a cabinet full-length picture of her
mother, the Duchess of Devonshire. She is represented with light hair,
and seemed to have been one whose beauty was less that of regular
classic model, than the fascination of a brilliant and buoyant spirit
inspiring a graceful form. Lady Carlisle showed me an album,
containing a kind of poetical record made by her during a passage
through the Alps, which she crossed on horseback, in days when such an
exploit was more difficult and dangerous than at present. I
particularly appreciated some lines in closing, addressed to her
children, expressing the eagerness with which she turned from all that
nature and art could offer, in prospect of meeting them once more.
Lord Carlisle is still in Turkey, and will, probably, spend the winter
in Greece. His mother had just received a letter from him, and he
thinks that war is inevitable.
In one of the rooms that we traversed I saw an immense vase of bog oak
and gold, which was presented to Lord Carlisle by those who favored
his election on the occasion of his defeat on the corn-law question.
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