evening, when the public were to be admitted; but I pleaded so hard, taking for my text, “nothing hazard, nothing have,” that the pony made “his first appearance on any stage,” and despite the thunders of applause which rewarded his efforts, walked off when required to do so, as quietly as a lamb! Ah! those were merry days at Casa Standish, and the boys and girls of that bygone time are still affectionately remembered by me, and that dear mother, Lady Lucy Standish, who presided over all our revels. I trust that any members of the family who may chance to read these lines, will not be displeased by this slight allusion to those happy days. It was about this time, at Florence, that I first made the acquaintance and formed the friendship of the celebrated novelist of the day, G. P. R. James, whose historical romances were then in the highest favour with the reading public. I was one of his great admirers, and was delighted to be made known to him, but it was reserved for me in future days to fathom the depths of that high and generous nature, and that warm and noble heart. He had hired a beautiful villa in the environs of the city, which afterwards became the property of the Countess of Crawford, Villa Palmieri, and which has been occupied by our beloved Queen Victoria. It was on one of Florence’s golden afternoons that my mother and I drove out to dine with Mr and Mrs James, and I pressed for the first time those hands which were ever afterwards stretched out to me in kindness and hospitality. [Sidenote: CAROLINE BONAPARTE] Amongst the residents at this season in Tuscany’s fair capital was Caroline Bonaparte, the widow of Joachim Murat, the favourite sister of the Emperor Napoleon I., whom he described as having the head of a great man on the shoulders of a pretty woman. Ex-Queen of Naples, she was living at that time on the Lung’arno, under the anagrammatic title of Countess Lipona (Napoli), and supposed, with little doubt, to be the wife of Marshal Macdonald. I think the epithet “captivating” might well be applied to her; she was small and fair, and, although advanced in years, bore the traces of great comeliness. I found in her a strange resemblance to our dear Princess Mary of England, Duchess of Gloucester, and she was in no wise displeased when I told her so.