The daily union. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1845-1857, 1845-08-14
MIS- CELLAN EO u 8.
PEN AND INK SKETCHES OF POPULAR
PERSONS AND PLACES,
SOME LADY.BIRDs AND THEIR HAUNTs.
BY A COSMOPOLITAN.

of them take up their abodes, TO get sight Of cele-
brated literary ladies than of gentlemen writer's who,
in their hours Of relaxation, mix themselves up with
the multitude.
But in the great metropolis, where so many oil
our distinguished Herqteurs either reside or conuhu
ally resort there are hundreds of opportunities OF
seeing the learned lions and he must be indeed 1n-
fortunate who seeks and finds not. II Is generaiiy
considered that great and almost insuperaoe uimcui
ties lie in the way not only OF strangers, but OF res
idents in England, with respect to making ones sell
acquainted with the outward and visible appearance
Of authors. Than this, there can scarcely be a
greater mistake In London there are certain club
houses, where some of our celebrated writers may,
at particular hours of the day, be, almost to
tanty, found. Go to the Garrick Club house, for
instance; and If Sheridan Knowles is in London,
to one you will his large blue eyes cleaning in
snug box; or if you do not note, you will, ere
you have (if in the next box) been in the room FIVE
minutes hear his rich brogue as he converses with
some dining crony Enter the Junior United Ser
vice Clubhouse, and most likely you will catch a
glimpse OF Marryatt's keen physiognomy; and look
in at the Senior" and the broad coarse, weather.
beaten, sail-cloh textured face of Sir John Ross will
meet your glance. And then, should you be very
anxious to see DIsraeli or Bulwer you have only
TO get friend to procure you the entree of the
'Carton" or the "Reform," and your curiosity will
be speedily satisfied.
Then there are the cohee-houses; but these are
not famous for their literary customers as they
were in the old times when Goldsmith, and Addi-
son, and Steel, and Swift, and Phillips, and whole
hosts Of others, regularly patronized them. Who
does not recognise "Will's" and Toms, and the
'Chapter,n as old familiar names' But these have
had their day. Only the Chapter Coffee house, ="
believe remains of the ancient houses of this class;
and at this latter place, which is conveniently stu-
aed in passage between Paernoster Row and
Saint Paus Churchyard, many literary lion may
now be seen, at the low price of cup of coffee.
Hut how will discover.
amongst the numbers seated there, those who
worth good stare att will tell you. Make
a friend of the waiter--the head waiter, whom you
will soon discover; for the superintendent of such
places always look as if they were part and par
Gel of the concern. Go frequently to the coffee
house, until he knows you as a customer-be not
too economicaln your fees nor he you too liberal,
lest he laugh at you for green one and when you
have scraped sort of halfand-half acquaintance
with him, pump him; and if you do it dscreetly,
you will soon attain your ends. At the Chapter
Coffee house, Cary, the translator Of Dante, is a
frequent vister-and there was Sydney Smith Of
ten seen; indeed it is quite the house of call for
clerical authors Southey, too, passed good deal
Of his leisure time there, the occasions when he
visited London-and they were few; and in those
very brief intervals which left to him, Melville
sometimes rests there from the excessive fatigue i'm
posed on himself by the laborious polishing Of his
sermons Occasionally | have seen Croly there
frequently, Dale; and for minor canons and preb-
endaries Of the neighboring cathedral, (many OF
them well-known writers,) they are constantly to
be found there ''thick as leaves in Vallambrosa."
The houses | have named, however, are, OF
course, only frequented by gentlemen; but there are
places where the fairer portion of the literary
muny to be met with; forinstance, in the various
theatres Of learned institutions, where lectures are
delivered at literary soirees, or in the readingroom
Of the British Museum, where the occupants of the
tables are both male and female.
II was in this reading-room that saw, for the
first ard only time in my life, that extraordinary
woman, Mrs. Somervillc, the learned authoress of
the 'sConnexion of the Physical Sciences" She
was busily employed in making extracts from some
huge folios, and so | had but an imperfect view OF
her. As is usual with ladies who frequent the room
for the purpose Of study-and few go there with
any other object in view--she was unboDneed.
She appeared to be Git is not ungaant, hope, TO
guess fair lady's yearsn this instance at leas)
about forty-two or three. Her countenance was
not handsome, but highly intelligent On her broad
forehead her dark hair combed back from the
centre, and terminated in large clusters of small
ringets The expression of her features was rather
pleasing than profound; but occupied unfavora-
BILE position, and the lady was so intent upon her
labor, that did not get favorable view of her as
/ could have wished
How frequently does it occur, that we are disap-
pointed in the external appearances Of those with
whose works we have long been familiar, and of
whose persons have drawn mlnd-portraits,
which have, from long association, become acknowl-
edged resemblances scarcely remember one cele-
braed author, authofess, who has answered
eracly to the ideal portraits of them which, long
before saw them in the body" had hung up
in my own private and particular image chamber
Even when portraits have given us some notion Of
their everyday abeness, the real originals appear
vastly different from their pictured semblances; so
il was in the case of lady whom am about to in
troduce TO the reader, by means of what may be
termed word-mnlng.
, A utp. IN tba aF N MOI
tragedy beng produced, by dint of much struggling,
and after having undergone so awful a squeezing,
that like poor Hoods Spoiled Child, If had been
held up, could scarcely have been seen edgeways,
] found myself in the midst of as dense crowd as
can well be imagined, in the pit of one Of the great
metropolitan theatres. had endured the enormous
pressure outside the door for more than two hours
before they were opened; and, when they were un-
barred had literally been carried nearly far the
paying place by the living stream which flowed
from without, inwards. AS soon as had recovered
from the terrific scramble for seat, looked about
me, and a brilliant spectacle met my view.
From orchestra to ceiling, was one dense mass of
human beings. The dress circle unusually
thronged and, amongst the brilliant audience, were
many, of both sexes, whose names have shed a
lustre on English literature Nearly every author
Of note in London was present; and the reason Of
this was, that Mr.. Sergeant Talfourd's tragedy of
{" Ion" was to try its chance with the public that
night for the first time.
Many of those who were present on that occasion,
have already noticed in this series of papers.
Others were there. whom | must pass by for the
present, and only direct attention to a few, whom
may not, hereafter, have opportunity of present.
ing to the reader.
In the very centre box, | believe, of the dress
circle and the front seat, sat an elderly lady,
whose personal appearance formed very striking
contrast to theirs who either side of her. On
her right and left hand elegantly and superbly
al lad IF axcaauip1 beantv Uh shpnp "A
oil the glories of diamonds and ostrich plumes.
Youth and loneliness were all around herr and yet
that plain, elderly little lady attracted more notice
than the brightest of them People turned from the
bellies IN the boxes to gaze upon the whered little
lady, who, if she ever possessed any personal
charms, had certainly lost them long, long ago"
The lady in question was not only eldery--as
we courteousy call people who far down the
hill of life-but absolutely old. Although seated,
it plainly to be seen that she was low in stat
ufe; and her frame very slender, thin, and attenu-
ncd, but graceful withal, Her face was small, and
the TEXTURES Diuchfd-I know mn other term which