She was intimately acquainted with foreign celebrities, and her conversation about them was of much interest. She and her mother, Lady Elgin, spent some days in Lamartine’s house at Paris, when violent mobs, during the Revolution, assembled in front of the residence. The President behaved bravely, but expressed fear lest any insult should be offered to English ladies under his roof. Mother and daughter, if I remember right, had been offered refuge by the President when the utmost peril filled the French capital. Lady Augusta related interesting anecdotes of Lamartine; and I gathered that he habitually indicated no small confidence in himself, feeling that he was the greatest man in France, as no doubt, at the time, he really was. Her Ladyship and the Dean were well acquainted with M. Guizot, and gave interesting accounts of that distinguished statesman, and of his habits and studies after retirement from public life. I happened once, when talking of Earl Russell, to make the remark, that I had heard of his cold manner to political acquaintances. Her countenance lighted up, and she spoke with enthusiasm of what he was in the bosom of his family, and the circle of intimate friends. Bishop Thirlwall was a great favourite with her, and she related interesting anecdotes of that distinguished man, indicating a warm heart, in union with a keen intellect. Lady Augusta’s visit to St. Petersburg with the Dean, at the marriage of the Duke of Edinburgh, proved too much for her strength, and at Paris in the following autumn serious illness set in. From time to time amendment and relapse excited hope and fear, until all prospect of recovery vanished. She spoke of friends, sent kind messages, and talked calmly and with humble confidence of the other world, saying, “Think of me as near, only in another room. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’” I had a touching note from the Dean asking me to be a pall-bearer at the funeral. All chosen for that office indicated causes, classes, and places in which she felt an interest. Religion, literature, and philanthropy, the neighbourhood in which she lived, and Scotland—each had a representative. The assembly of mourners in the Jerusalem Chamber; the spectacle in the Abbey; the procession up the nave whilst the Queen occupied a little gallery not far from the western door; the calm submission of the bereaved husband, as he sat by the coffin; the solemn entrance into Henry VII.’s Chapel; the ray of sunlight falling on the coffin as it sank into the vault; and especially the words, “I heard a voice from Heaven,” sung by choristers invisible at the moment, as if music came from the Upper Temple—these incidents can never be forgotten.