There was something in his physiognomy which very much attracted nay notice; and, for some reason or another, I thought that I seemed to be an object of his attention.

At table, Foscolo was seated next to a young Hanoverian, between whom and me a very learned conversation had passed on the preceding evening, and a certain degree of acquaintance was cemented in consequence.

The table was that day graced with the appearance of some of the Court ladies of Stuttgard, and all passed off with the decorum usually observed abroad, when suddenly, towards the conclusion of the feast a violent hubbub was heard between M.Foscolo and his Hanoverian neighbour, who, in angry terms and with violent gestures, respectively asserted the superior harmonies of Greek and Latin.

This ended with the former's suddenly producing a card, accompanied with the following annunciation: 'Sir, my name is Ugo Foscolo; I am a native of Greece, and I have resided thirty years in Italy; I therefore think I ought to know something of the matter.

This card contains my address, and if you have anything further to say, you know where I am to be found.' Whether Foscolo's name or manner daunted the young Hanoverian, or whether he was only a bird of passage, I don't know, but we saw nothing more of him after that day.