In a fit of pretty ill-humour these high and mighty Ladies ordered that no person who came after midnight should be admitted. Soon after, the Duke of Wellington came from the House of Lords a few minutes too late, and thought he should be certain to find an exception in his favour. 'Point du tout'--the hero of Waterloo could not carry this fortress, and was obliged to retreat. Another time the Lady-Patronesses issued a decree, that only gentlemen who were bow-legged should be permitted to appear in loose pantaloons: all others were ordered to wear breeches;--in England, where the very name is forbidden, certainly a bold decree. The dread of the new tribunal of inquisition was so great, that at first even this edict was obeyed. But a reaction followed. A great number of gentlemen appeared at the door in the prohibited pantaloons, and demanded admittance on the plea of crooked legs, of which they declared themselves guilty; and, in case they were not believed, invited the Lady-Patronesses to convince themselves of the fact by personal inspection. From that time the Ladies have winked at this offending portion of male attire. _July 10th._ To-morrow I hope to be able to take my way to wider and freer regions; and it will be some time before I resume the pent-up life of a city. Lord Byron somewhere says of himself, that his soul never enjoyed its full activity but in solitude. This truth is applicable to lesser people, for it is just so with me. In wearisome society I am but half conscious of a soul: and I am oppressed by the horrible thought--Now, if possible, you must be 'amiable.' On the other hand, I am, as you know, least alone when alone; for then do I the least miss your society, my best of friends! However distant you may be, my spirit hovers around your waking and your dreaming hours; and over sea and mountain my heart feels the affectionate pulse of yours. L----. LETTER XXV. _Cheltenham, July 12, 1828._ MY DEAR JULIA,