Stratford Canning saw him in the latter and John Galt in the former light. At a dinner-party at which they were both present, "he seemed inclined," says Galt, "to exact a deference to his dogmas that was more lordly than philosophical"; and he continues: "It was too evident ... that without intending wrong, or any offence, the unchecked humour of his temper was, by its caprices, calculated to prevent him from ever gaining that regard to which his talents and freer moods, independently of his rank, ought to have entitled him. Such men become objects of solicitude, but never of esteem." The fair inference seems to be that Byron had let Galt perceive the great gulf fixed between peers of the realm and commercial travellers. It was the sort of thing that he would do when in a bad temper, though not when in a good one. Galt, however, not only submitted to the snub, but accounted for it like a philosopher. Byron, he says, was in trouble at this time, not about his soul, but about his remittances; and "the false dignity he assumed" was really "the apprehension of a person of his rank being exposed to require assistance among strangers." One can certainly find support for the supposition in his urgent letters home. In due course, however, the remittances turned up, and Byron recovered his affability and resumed his journey. Hobhouse left him and returned alone. "Took leave," he notes in his Diary, "_non sine lacrymis_, of this singular young person, on a little stone terrace at the end of the bay, dividing with him a little nosegay of flowers." There had been some coolness between them, and this was the sentimental renewal of their friendship. A return visit to Athens was the next stage, but there does not appear to have been any resumption of the old relations with the Maid of Athens. On the contrary, it was on this second visit to Athens that Lady Hester Stanhope discovered the poet "fighting the police for a woman of the town." At Athens, too, Byron met his old Cambridge acquaintance, Lord Sligo, from whom we obtain, through Moore, some further glimpses at his manner of life and characteristic affectations. He was once more, it seems, constrained to combat the flesh by means of self-denying ordinances, and, to that end, took three Turkish baths a week, and confined himself to a diet of rice and vinegar and water. This system, and a fever contracted at Patras, made him very pale; and he felt that to be pale was to be interesting. "Standing one day before a looking glass," Moore tells us, "he said to Lord Sligo: "'How pale I look! I should like, I think, to die of a consumption!' "'Why of a consumption?' asked his friend. "'Because then,' he answered, 'all the women would say, "See that poor Byron--how interesting he looks in dying!"'"