XXXVI MEMOIR. 



"TO THE DOCTOR, ON HIS PASSION FOE THE 'DUCHESS OP 

 OLDENBUKGH.' " 



" Dear Doctor, I write you this little effusion, 

 On learning you're still in that fatal delusion 

 Of thinking the object you love is a Duchess, 

 When 'tis only a milkmaid you hold in your clutches ; 

 Why, 'tis certainly plain as the spots in the sun, 

 That the creature is only a fine Dutch Mignonne. 

 She is Dutch there is surely no question of that, 

 She's so large and so ruddy so plump and so fat ; 

 And that she's a Mignonne a beauty most moving, 

 Is equally proved by your desperate loving ; 

 But that she's a Duchess I flatly deny, 

 There's such a broad twinkle about her deep eye ; 

 And glance at the russety hue of her skin 

 A lady a noble would think it a sin ! 

 Ah no, my dear Doctor, upon my own honor, 

 I must send you a dose of the true Bella donna ! " 



I had expressed great delight with the magnolia, 

 carried one of the flowers in my hand during our morning 

 stroll. At evening he handed me a fresh one, and every 

 day while I remained, the breakfast-room was perfumed by 

 the magnolia that was placed beside my plate. This deli- 

 cate thoughtfulness was universal with him. He knew all 

 the flowers that his friends especially loved ; and in his 

 notes to me he often wrote, " the magnolias are waiting 

 for you," as an irresistible allurement which it was very 

 apt to prove. Downing was in the library when I came 

 down the morning after our arrival. He had the air of a 

 man who has been broad awake and at work for several 

 hours. There was the same quiet greeting as before a 

 gay conversation, glancing at a thousand things and 

 breakfast. After breakfast he disappeared ; but if, at 

 any time, an excursion was proposed, to climb some hill, 

 to explore some meadows rich in rhododendron, to visit 



