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ro；　Charles　James　Fox；　and　has　the　happiness　of　watching　him　helped　on　to　his　horse。　　Mr。　Romilly　delights　her；　but　her　greatest　favourite　of　all　is　Mr。　Whitbread。　'You　know　I　am　always　an　enthusiast；'　she　writes；　'but　at　present　it　is　impossible　to　describe　the　admiration　I　feel　for　this　exalted　character。'　　She　speaks　of　his　voice　'which　she　could　listen　to　with　transport　even　if　he　spoke　in　an　unknown　language！'　she　writes　a　sonnet　to　him；　'an　impromptu；　on　hearing　Mr。　Whitbread　declare　in　Westminster　Hall　that　he　fondly　trusted　his　name　would　descend　to　posterity。'

　　　　　'The　hope　of　Fame　thy　noble　bosom　fires；　　　　　　　Nor　vain　the　hope　thy　ardent　mind　inspires；　　　　　　　In　British　breasts　whilst　Purity　remains；　　　　　　　Whilst　Liberty　her　blessed　abode　retains；　　　　　　　Still　shall　the　muse　of　History　proclaim　　　　　　　To　future　ages　thy　immortal　name！'

There　are　many　references　to　the　celebrities　of　the　time　in　her　letters　home；every　one　agrees　as　to　the　extreme　folly　of　Sheridan's　entertainments；　Mrs。　Opie　is　spoken　of　as　a　rising　authoress；　etc。　etc。　etc。

Miss　Austen　used　to　go　to　23　Hans　Place；　and　Miss　Mitford　used　to　stay　at　No。　22；　but　not　at　the　same　time。　　Mrs。　Mitford　had　known　Miss　Austen　as　a　child。　　She　may　perhaps　be　forgiven　for　some　prejudice　and　maternal　jealousy；　in　her　later　impressions；　but　Mary　Mitford　admired　Jane　Austen　always　with　warmest　enthusiasm。　　She　writes　to　her　mother　at　length　from　London；　describing　everything；　all　the　people　and　books　and　experiences　that　she　comes　across；the　elegant　suppers　at　Brompton；　the　Grecian　lamps；　Mr。　Barker's　beauty；　Mr。　Plummer's　plainness；　and　the　destruction　of　her　purple　gown。

Mrs。　Mitford　writes　back　in　return　describing　Reading　festivities；　'an　agreeable　dinner　at　Doctor　Valpy's；　where　Mrs。　Women　and　Miss　Peacock　are　present　and　Mr。　J。　Simpson；　M。P。；　the　dinner　very　good；　two　full　courses　and　one　remove；　the　soup　giving　place　to　one　quarter　of　lamb。'　　Mrs。　Mitford　sends　a　menu　of　every　dinner　she　goes　to。

In　1806　Dr。　Mitford　takes　his　daughter；　who　was　then　about　nineteen；　to　the　North　to　visit　his　relations；　they　are　entertained　by　the　grandparents　of　the　Trevelyans　and　the　Swinburnes；　the　Ogles　and　the　Mitfords　of　the　present　day。　　They　fish　in　Sir　John　Swinburne's　lake；　they　visit　at　Alnwick　Castle。　　Miss　Mitford　kept　her　front　hair　in　papers　till　she　reached　Alnwick；　nor　was　her　dress　discomposed　though　she　had　travelled　thirty　miles。　　They　sat　down；　sixty…five　to　dinner；　which　was　'of　course'　（she　somewhat　magnificently　says）　entirely　served　on　plate。　　Poor　Mary's　pleasure　is　very　much　dashed　by　the　sudden　disappearance　of　her　father；Dr。　Mitford　was　in　the　habit　of　doing　anything　he　felt　inclined　to　do　at　once　and　on　the　spot；　quite　irrespectively　of　the　convenience　of　others；and　although　a　party　had　been　arranged　on　purpose　to　meet　him　in　the　North；　and　his　daughter　was　counting　on　his　escort　to　return　home；　（people　posted　in　those　days；　they　did　not　take　their　tickets　direct　from　Newcastle　to　London）；　Dr。　Mitford　one　morning　leaves　word　that　he　has　gone　off　to　attend　the　Reading　election；　where　his　presence　was　not　in　the　least　required。　　For　the　first　and　apparently　for　the　only　time　in　her　life　his　daughter　protests。　'Mr。　Ogle　is　extremely　offended；　nothing　but　your　immediate　return　can　ever　excuse　you　to　him！　　I　IMPLORE　you　to　return；　I　call　upon　Mamma's　sense　of　propriety　to　send　you　here　directly。　　Little　did　I　suspect　that　my　father；　my　beloved　father；　would　desert　me　at　this　distance　from　home！　　Every　one　is　surprised。'　　Dr。　Mitford　was　finally　persuaded　to　travel　back　to　Northumberland　to　fetch　his　daughter。

The　constant　companionship　of　Dr。　Mitford　must　have　given　a　curious　colour　to　his　good　and　upright　daughter's　views　of　life。　　Adoring　her　father　as　she　did；　she　must　have　soon　accustomed　herself　to　take　his　fine　speeches　for　fine　actions；　to　accept　his　self…complacency　in　the　place　of　a　conscience。　　She　was　a　woman　of　warm　impressions；　with　a　strong　sense　of　right。　　But　it　was　not　within　her　daily　experience；　poor　soul；　that　people　who　did　not　make　grand　professions　were　ready　to　do　their　duty　all　the　same；　nor　did　she　always　depend　upon　the　uprightness；　the　courage；　the　self…denial　of　those　who　made　no　protestations。　　At　that　time　loud　talking　was　still　the　fashion；　and　loud　living　was　considered　romantic。　　They　both　exist　among　us；　but　they　are　less　admired；　and　there　is　a　different　language　spoken　now　to　that　of　Dr。　Mitford　and　his　school。*　　This　must　account　for　some　of　Miss　Mitford's　judgments　of　what　she　calls　a　'cynical'　generation；　to　which　she　did　little　justice。

*People　nowadays　are　more　ready　to　laugh　than　to　admire　when　they　hear　the　lions　bray；　for　mewing　and　bleating；　the　taste；　I　fear；　is　on　the　increase。

II。

There　is　one　penalty　people　pay　for　being　authors；　which　is　that　from　cultivating　vivid　impressions　and　mental　pictures　they　are　apt　to　take　fancies　too　seriously　and　to　mistake　them　for　reality。　　In　story…telling　this　is　well　enough；　and　it　interferes　with　nobody；　but　in　real　history；　and　in　one's　own　history　most　of　all；　this　faculty　is　apt　to　raise　up　bogies　and　nightmares　along　one's　path；　and　while　one　is　fighting　imaginary　demons；　the　good　things　and　true　are　passed　by　unnoticed；　the　best　realities　of　life　are　sometimes　overlooked。　。　。　。

But　after　all；　Mary　Russell　Mitford；　who　spent　most　of　her　time　gathering　figs　off　thistles　and　making　the　best　of　her　difficult　circumstances；　suffered　less　than　many　people　do　from　the　influence　of　imaginary　things。

She　was　twenty…three　years　old　when　her　first　book　of　poems　was　published；　so　we　read　in　her　letters；　in　which　she　entreats　her　father　not　to　curtail　ANY　of　the　verses　addressed　to　him；　there　is　no　reason；　she　says；　except　his　EXTREME　MODESTY　why　the　verses　should　be　suppressed；she　speaks　not　only　with　the　fondness　of　a　daughter　but　with　the　sensibility　of　a　poet。　　Our　young　authoress　is　modest；　although　in　print；　she　compares　herself　to　Crabbe　（as　Jane　Austen　might　have　done）；　and　feels　'what　she　supposes　a　farthing　candle　would　experience　when　the　sun　rises　in　all　its　glory。'　　Then　comes　the　Publisher's　bill　for　59　pounds；　she　is　quite　shocked　at　the　bill；　which　is　really　exorbitant！　　In　her　next　letter　Miss　Mitford　reminds　her　father　that　the　taxes　are　still　unpaid；　and　a　correspondence　follows　with　somebody　asking　for　a　choice　of　the　Doctor's　pictures　in　payment　for　the　taxes。　　The　Doctor　is　in　London　all　the　time；　dining　out　and　generally　amusing　himself。　　Everybody　is　speculating　whether　Sir　Francis　Burdett　will　go　to　the　Tower。*　'Oh；　my　darling；　how　I　envy　you　at　the　fountain…head　of　intelligence　in　these　interesting　times！　　How　I　envy　Lady　Burdett　for　the　fine　opportunity　she　has　to　show　the　heroism　of　our　sex！'　writes　the　daughter；　who　is　only　encountering　angry　tax…gatherers　at　home。　。　。　。　　Somehow　or　other　the　bills　are　paid　for　the　time；　and　the　family　arrangements　go　on　as　before。

*Here；　in　our　little　suburban　garden　at　Wimbledon；　are　the　remains　of　an　old　hedgerow　which　used　to　grow　in　the　kitchen　garden　of　the　Grange　where　Sir　Francis　Burdett　then　lived。　　The　tradition　is　that　he　was　walking　in　the　lane　in　his　own　kitchen　garden　when　he　was　taken　up　and　carried　off　to　honourable　captivity。A。T。R。

Besides　writing　to　the　members　of　her　own　home；　Miss　Mitford　started　another　correspondent　very　early　in　life；　this　was　Sir　William　Elford；　to　whom　she　describes　her　outings　and　adventures；　her　visits　to　Tavistock　House；　where　her　kind　friends　the　Perrys　receive　her。　Mr。　Perry　was　the　editor　of　the　Morning　Chronicle；　he　and　his　beautiful　wife　were　the　friends　of　all　the　most　interesting　people　of　the　day。　　Here　again　the　present　writer's　own　experiences　can　interpret　the　printed　page；　for　her　own　first　sight　of　London　people　and　of　London　society　came　to　her　in　a　little　house　in　Chesham　Place；　where　her　father's　old　friends；　Mrs。　Frederick　Elliot　and　Miss　Perry；　the　daughters　of　Miss　Mitford's　friends；　lived　with　a　very　notable　and　interesting　set　of　people；　making　a　social　centre；　by　that　kindly　unconscious　art　which　cannot　be　defined；　that　quick　apprehension；　that　benevolent　fastidiousness　（I　have　to　use　rather　far…fetched　words）　which　are　so　essential　to　good　hosts　and　hostesses。　　A　different　standard　is　looked　for　now；　by　the　rising　generations　knocking　at　the　doors；　behind　which　the　dignified　past　is　lying　as　stark　as　King　Duncan　himself！

Among　other　entertainments　Miss　Mitford　went　to　the　fetes　which　celebrated　the　battle　of　Vittoria；　she　had　also　the　happiness　of　getting　a　good　sight　of　Mme。　de　Stael；　who　was　a　great　friend　of　the　Perrys。　　'She　is　almost　as　much　followed　in　the　gardens　as　the　Princess；'　she　says；　pouring　out　her　wonders；　her　pleasures；　her　raptures。　　She　begins　to　read　Burns　with　youthful　delight；　dilates　upon　his　exhaustless　imagination；　his　versatility；　and　then　she　suggests　a　very　just　criticism。　　'Does　it　not　appear'　she　says；　'that　versatility　is　the　true　and　rare　characteristic　of　that　rare　thing　called　geniusversatility　and　playfulness；'　then　she　goes　on　to　speak　of　two　highly…reputed　novels　just　come　out　and　ascribed　to　Lady　Morley；　'Pride　and　Prejudice'　and　'Sense　and　Sensibility。'

She　is　still　writing　from　Bertram　House；　but　her　pleasant　gossip　continually　alternates　with　more　urgent　and　less　agreeable　letters　addressed　to　her　father。　　Lawyers'　clerks　are　again　calling　with　notices　and　warnings；　tax…gatherers　are　troubling。　　Dr。　Mitford　has；　as　usual；　left　no　address；　so　that　she　can　only　write　to　the　'Star　Office；'　and　trust　to　chance。　　'Mamma　joins　in　tenderest　love；'　so　the　letters　invariably　conclude。

Notwithstanding　the　adoration　bestowed　by　the　ladies　of　the　family　and　their　endearing　adjectives；　Mr。　Harness　is　very　outspoken　on　the　subject　of　the　handsome　Doctor！　　He　disliked　his　manners；　his　morals；　his　self…sufficiency；　his　loud　talk。　　'The　old　brute　never　informed　his　friends　of　anything；　all　they　knew　of　him　or　his　affairs；　or　whatever　false　or　true　he　intended　them　to　believe；　came　out　carelessly　in　his　loose；　disjointed　talk。'

In　1814　Miss　Mitford　is　living　on　still　with　her　parents　at　Bertram　House；　but　a　change　has　come　over　their　home；　the　servants　are　gone；　the　gravel　turned　to　moss；　the