Such anecdotes of his youth abound; but one is too characteristic to be omitted. An old man of the name of Kemp, of Farnsfield, was one day in Southwell, when a dog in the minster-yard fell upon his little dog. He was beating it off, when a genteel boy came up, and in a very decided tone said, “Let them fight it out--they find their own clothes, don’t they?” The old man said, clothes or no clothes, his dog should not be worried. A stander-by asked him if he knew to whom he spoke. The old man said he neither knew nor cared. “It is Lord Byron,” said the person; but the old man said he did not care whether he was a lord or a duke, they should not worry his dog; and having got his little dog under his arm, he marched off in none of the best humour. Some time afterwards, however, seeing “Hours of Idleness and other Poems, by Lord Byron,” advertised, he recollected the spirit of the lad with so much admiration, that he took his stick and set off to Newark to purchase the book, and always afterwards remained a great admirer of his works. Such was my acquaintance with the place then; it is now a good, substantial, and very comfortable family mansion. With its external appearance the public is well acquainted through various prints; and the only objects in the interior, which can much interest strangers, as connected with the history of Lord Byron, are equally familiar. The picture of his wolf-dog, and his Newfoundland-dog--the living Newfoundland-dog which he had with him in Greece; the skull-cup kept in a cabinet in the drawing-room, and the little chapel and cloisters mentioned by him. There are also in a lumber-room the identical stone-coffin, and the foils I saw there twenty years ago, and a portrait of old Murray smoking his pipe. There is also the well-known portrait by Phillips. A full-length likeness of him as about to embark on his first travels, which was in the drawing-room at that time, is now gone, but has been engraved for Mr. Murray’s edition of his Life and Works.