The Poetess, author of "Heartstrings," "The Deadly Nightshade," "Passion
Flowers," &c. Though her poems breathe only of love, Miss B. has never
been married. She is nearly six feet high; she loves waltzing beyond
even poesy; and I think lobster-salad as much as either. She confesses
to twenty-eight; in which case her first volume, "The Orphan of Gozo,"
(cut up by Mr. Rigby, in the Quarterly, with his usual kindness,) must
have been published when she was three years old.
For a woman all soul, she certainly eats as much as any woman I ever
saw. The sufferings she has had to endure, are, she says, beyond
compare; the poems which she writes breathe a withering passion, a
smouldering despair, an agony of spirit that would melt the soul of a
drayman, were he to read them. Well, it is a comfort to see that she
can dance of nights, and to know (for the habits of illustrious literary
persons are always worth knowing) that she eats a hot mutton-chop for
breakfast every morning of her blighted existence.
She lives in a boardinghouse at Brompton, and comes to the party in a
fly.