“Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. And me, I wish to know why you have seen him. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. It has been very humiliating. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so.
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