It is sorrowful to think, that, in a very little time, this young and amiable creature, wise, patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every one who reads Byron's works.

To rescue her from this, I preserved her letters; and, when she afterwards expressed a fear that any thing of her writings should ever fall into hands to injure him (I suppose she meant by publication), I safely assured her that it never should.

But here this letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favour, unknown to herself:-- '"I am a very incompetent judge of the impression which the last canto of 'Childe Harold' may produce on the minds of indifferent readers.

It contains the usual trace of a conscience restlessly awake; though his object has been too long to aggravate its burden, as if it could thus be oppressed into eternal stupor.

I will hope, as you do, that it survives for his ultimate good.