These letters, with many others addressed by him to the lady, are now before me. They had been carefully tied up and preserved, and are all dated by her on the back--even down to the little missives sent across from Albemarle Street to Berkeley Square, where she resided. From the number and frequency of these it is evident that the porter suffered from no lack of exercise. After her death in 1855 these letters came into the possession of Dr. John Davy, together with other papers, and some have been published already in his “Fragmentary Remains.” The correspondence is of especial interest from the sidelight it throws on Davy’s disposition and character. Many of the letters are delightful in tone and feeling; not even Amadis de Gaul, that cream and flower of gentility, or that mirror of chivalry, the Knight of the Woful Figure, could have been more courteous in bearing, or have shown a warmer and at the same time a more deferential admiration of the lady he wooed. But the world, after all, has no concern with their tender confidences. It is sufficient to say that Davy’s letters are such as might be expected from his ardent temperament and active imagination; from his love of natural scenery, his faculty of happy expression, and graphic power of description. Early in 1812 Sir Joseph Banks, whose constant thought was of and for the Royal Society, thus wrote to his friend Sir George Stanton:-- “The Royal Society has been well supplied with papers, and continues to be so. Davy, our secretary, is said to be on the point of marrying a rich and handsome widow, who has fallen in love with Science and marries him in order to obtain a footing in the Academic Groves; her name is Apreece, the daughter of Mr. Carr, [Kerr] who made a fortune in India, and the niece of Dr. Carr, [Kerr] of Northampton. If this takes place, it will give to science a kind of new _éclat_; we want nothing so much as the countenance of the ladies to increase our popularity.”