After breakfast, ---- and Mr. ---- came. ---- gave me the words and tune of a bewitching old English ballad. Mr. ---- called and sat some time with me: I like him mainly,--he's very pleasant and clever. That handsome creature, Mme. ----, called with her daughter and her son-in-law. Mr. ---- and ---- dined with us. After dinner, came to my own room, sang over ----'s ballad, and amused myself with writing one of my own. At half-past five, took coffee, and off to the theatre. The house was very full; play, the Stranger: I didn't play well: I'd a gown on that did not fit me, to which species of accident our _art_ is marvellously subservient, for a tight arm-hole shall mar the grandest passage in Queen Constance, and too long or too short a skirt keep one's heart cold in the balcony scene in Juliet. Came home; supped; finished marking the Winter's Tale. What a dense fool that fat old Johnson must have been in matters of poetry! his notes upon Shakspeare make one swear, and his summing up of the Winter's Tale is worthy of a newspaper critic of the present day,--in spirit, I mean, not language; Dr. Johnson always wrote good English.--What dry, and sapless, and dusty earth his soul must have been made of, poor fat man! After all, 'tis even a greater misfortune than fault to be so incapable of beauty. * * * * * * * * * * BALLAD. The Lord's son stood at the clear spring head, The May on the other side, "And stretch me your lily hand," he said, "For I must mount and ride. "And waft me a kiss across the brook, And a curl of your yellow hair; Come summer or winter, I ne'er shall look Again on your eyes so fair. "Bring me my coal-black steed, my squire, Bring Fleetfoot forth!" he cried; "For three-score miles he must not tire, To bear me to my bride. "His foot must be swift, though my heart be slow; He carries me towards my sorrow; To the Earl's proud daughter I made my vow, And I must wed her to-morrow." The Lord's son stood at the altar stone,-- The Earl's proud daughter near: "And what is that ring you have gotten on, That you kiss so oft and so dear? "Is it a ring of the yellow gold, Or something more precious and bright? Give me that ring in my hand to hold, Or I plight ye no troth to-night." "It is not a ring of the yellow gold, But something more precious and bright; But never shall hand, save my hand, hold This ring by day or night." "And now I am your wedded wife, Give me the ring, I pray."-- "You may take my lands, you may take my life, But never this ring away." They sat at the board; and the lady bride Red wine in a goblet pour'd; "And pledge me a health, sweet sir," she cried, "My husband and my lord."