"My father, by his first marriage with Lady Conyers (an only child), had only my sister; and by his second marriage with an only child, an only child again. Lady Byron, as you know, was one also, and so is my daughter, &c. "Is not this rather odd--such a complication of only children? By the way, send me my daughter Ada's miniature. I have only the print, which gives little or no idea of her complexion. "Yours, &c. B." * * * * * LETTER 472. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, December 12. 1821. "What you say about Galignani's two biographies is very amusing; and, if I were not lazy, I would certainly do what you desire. But I doubt my present stock of facetiousness--that is, of good _serious_ humour, so as not to let the cat out of the bag.[71] I wish _you_ would undertake it. I will forgive and _indulge_ you (like a Pope) beforehand, for any thing ludicrous, that might keep those fools in their own dear belief that a man is a _loup garou_. "I suppose I told you that the Giaour story had actually some foundation on facts; or, if I did not, you will one day find it in a letter of Lord Sligo's, written to me _after_ the publication of the poem. I should not like marvels to rest upon any account of my own, and shall say nothing about it. However, the _real_ incident is still remote enough from the poetical one, being just such as, happening to a man of any imagination, might suggest such a composition. The worst of any _real_ adventures is that they involve living people--else Mrs. ----'s, ----'s, &c. are as 'german to the matter' as Mr. Maturin could desire for his novels. * * * * "The consummation you mentioned for poor * * was near taking place yesterday. Riding pretty sharply after Mr. Medwin and myself, in turning the corner of a lane between Pisa and the hills, he was spilt,--and, besides losing some claret on the spot, bruised himself a good deal, but is in no danger. He was bled, and keeps his room. As I was a-head of him some hundred yards, I did not see the accident; but my servant, who was behind, did, and says the horse did not fall--the usual excuse of floored equestrians. As * * piques himself upon his horsemanship, and his horse is really a pretty horse enough, I long for his personal narrative,--as I never yet met the man who would _fairly claim a tumble_ as his own property. "Could not you send me a printed copy of the 'Irish Avatar?'--I do not know what has become of Rogers since we parted at Florence. "Don't let the Angles keep you from writing. Sam told me that you were somewhat dissipated in Paris, which I can easily believe. Let me hear from you at your best leisure. "Ever and truly, &c. "P.S. December 13.