"My new French maid has just been telling me a great deal about her late mistress, Lady Caroline Lamb. Her ladyship's only son is, I understand, in a very bad state of health. Lady Caroline has therefore hired a stout young doctor to attend on him: and the servants at Melbourne House have the impudence to call him Bergami! He does not dine or breakfast with Lady Caroline or her husband, who, you know, is Fred Lamb's brother, the Honourable William Lamb; but he is served in his own room, and her ladyship pays great attention to the nature and quality of his repasts. The poor child, being subject to violent attacks in the night, Lady Caroline is often to be found after midnight in the doctor's bedchamber, consulting him about her son. I do not mean you to understand this ironically, as the young Frenchwoman says herself there very likely is nothing in it, although the servants tell a story about a little silk stocking, very like her ladyship's, having been found one morning quite at the bottom of the Doctor's bed. This doctor, as Thérèse tells me, is a coarse, stupid-looking, ugly fellow; but then Lady Caroline declares to her, _que monsieur le docteur a du fond!_ "She is always trying to persuade her servants that sleep is unnecessary, being _une affaire d'habitude seulement_. She often called up Thérèse in the middle of the night, and made her listen while she touched the organ in a very masterly style. "Her ladyship's poetry," says Thérèse, "is equally good, in French, in English, or in Italian; and I have seen some excellent specimens of her talents for caricatures. She sometimes hires a servant, and sends him off the next day for the most absurd reasons: such as, 'Thomas! you look as if you required a dose of salts; and altogether you do not suit me,' &c. She is the meanest woman on earth, and the greatest tyrant generally speaking, _quoiqu'elle a ses moments de bonté;_ but as to her husband, he is at all times proud, severe, and altogether disagreeable." "Lady Caroline ate and drank enough for a porter, and, when the doctor forbade wine, she was in the habit of running into her dressing-room to _dédommager_ herself, with a glass or two of _eau de vie vieille, de cognac!_! One day, Thérèse, whose bed-chamber adjoined that of William Lamb, overheard the following conversation between them. "LADY C. 'I must and will come into your room. I am your lawful wife. Why am I to sleep alone?' "WILLIAM. 'I'll be hang'd if you come into my room, Caroline; so you may as well go quietly into your own.' "Lady Caroline persevered. "'Get along you little drunken----,' said William Lamb. "The gentle Caroline wept at this outrage. "'_Mais où est, donc, ce petit coquin de docteur?_' said William, in a conciliatory tone.