[Footnote 140: It is not many years since the auctioneer in a public salesroom in London, in the course of his advertised list of objects to be disposed of, held up two small half sheets of paper, all written over, torn, and mutilated. He called these scraps most interesting, but apologized for their condition. There was present a highly intelligent company of amateurs in autographs, attracted by the sale. The first offer for these scraps of paper was ten pounds. The bids rose rapidly until sixty-five was reached, when they were knocked off; but as there proved to be two bidders at that price, it was necessary to put them up again. They were finally closed at one hundred pounds. These scraps of paper, which were almost a hundred years old to a day, were the original copy of "Gray's Elegy."] [Footnote 141: Speaking of Byron's mother, Dawson, the brilliant English lecturer, says: "She was a shrieking, howling, red-faced, passionate, self-indulgent person; now spoiling him by ridiculous indulgence, now subjecting him to her extravagant wrath. A ridiculous person, an absurd person, short and fat. What a sight it was to see her in a rage, running round the room after the lame boy, and he mocking, and dodging, and hopping about! Although that may be droll to hear, it was tragical to suffer from; and there is much mercy to be bestowed upon a man whose father was a blackguard and whose mother was a fool!"] [Footnote 142: We quote from one of his sister's letters to a confidential friend: "Charles is very busy at the office; he will be kept there to-day until seven or eight o'clock. He came home very smoky and drinky last night, so that I am afraid a hard day's work will not agree very well with him. I have been eating a mutton-chop all alone, and I have just been looking into the pint porter-pot, which I find quite empty, and yet I am still very dry; if you were with me, we would have a glass of brandy and water, but it is quite impossible to drink brandy and water by one's self." Is not this a quiet peep behind the curtain?] [Footnote 143: It was singular that with his acute sensibility and tenderness of nature Lamb never cared for music. But this was the case with Dr. Johnson, Fox, Pitt, and Sir James Mackintosh. Johnson was observed by a friend to be extremely inattentive at a concert, while a celebrated solo player was running up the divisions and subdivisions of notes upon the violin. The friend desiring to induce the Doctor to give his attention, remarked how difficult the performance was. "Difficult, do you call it, sir?" replied Johnson. "I wish it were impossible." It will also be remembered that Goethe was not particularly fond of music. Once at a court concert in Weimar, when a pianist was in the middle of a very long sonata, the poet suddenly rose up, and, to the horror of the assembled ladies and gentlemen, exclaimed, "If this lasts three minutes longer, I shall confess everything!"]