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ng　now。'　　All　these　people　seem　to　have　been　just　as　busy　as　people　are　now；　as　amusing；　as　tiresome。　　They　had　the　additional　difficulty　of　having　to　procure　franks；　and　of　having　to　cover　four　pages　instead　of　a　post…card。　　OUR　letters　may　be　dull；　but　at　all　events　they　are　not　nearly　so　long。　　We　come　sooner　to　the　point　and　avoid　elegant　circumlocutions。　　But　one　is　struck；　among　other　things；　by　the　keener　literary　zest　of　those　days；　and　by　the　immense　numbers　of　MSS。　and　tragedies　in　circulation；　all　of　which　their　authors　confidingly　send　from　one　to　another。　　There　are　also　whole　flights　of　travelling　poems　flapping　their　wings　and　uttering　their　cries　as　they　go。

An　enthusiastic　American　critic　who　comes　over　to　England　emphasises　the　situation。　　Mr。　Willis's　'superlative　admiration'　seems　to　give　point　to　everything；　and　to　all　the　enthusiasm。　　Miss　Austen's　Collins　himself　could　not　have　been　more　appreciative；　not　even　if　Miss　de　Burgh　had　tried　her　hand　at　a　MS。　。　。　。　　Could　heMr。　Willischoose；　he　would　have　tragedy　once　a　year　from　Miss　Mitford's　pen。　　'WHAT　an　intoxicating　life　it　is；'　he　cries；　'I　met　Jane　Porter　and　Miss　Aikin　and　Tom　Moore　and　a　troop　more　beaux　esprits　at　dinner　yesterday！　　I　never　shall　be　content　elsewhere。'

Miss　Mitford's　own　letters　speak　in　a　much　more　natural　voice。

'I　never　could　understand　what　people　could　find　to　like　in　my　letters；'　Miss　Mitford　writes；　'unless　it　be　that　they　have　a　ROOT　to　them。'　　The　root　was　in　her　own　kind　heart。　　Miss　Mitford　may　have　been　wanting　a　little　in　discrimination；　but　she　was　never　wanting　in　sympathy。　　She　seems　to　have　loved　people　for　kindness's　sake　indiscriminately　as　if　they　were　creations　of　her　own　brain：　but　to　friendliness　or　to　trouble　of　any　sort　she　responds　with　fullest　measure。　　Who　shall　complain　if　some　rosy　veil　coloured　the　aspects　of　life　for　her？

'Among　the　many　blessings　I　enjoy；my　dear　father；　my　admirable　mother；　my　tried　and　excellent　friends；there　is　nothing　for　which　I　ought　to　thank　God　so　earnestly　as　for　the　constitutional　buoyancy　of　spirits；　the　aptness　to　hope；　the　will　to　be　happy　WHICH　I　INHERIT　FROM　MY　FATHER；'　she　writes。　　Was　ever　filial　piety　so　irritating　as　hers？　　It　is　difficult　to　bear；　with　any　patience；　her　praises　of　Dr。　Mitford。　　His　illusions　were　no　less　a　part　of　his　nature　than　his　daughter's；　the　one　a　self…centred　absolutely　selfish　existence；　the　other　generous；　humble；　beautiful。　　She　is　hardly　ever　really　angry　except　when　some　reports　get　about　concerning　her　marriage。　　There　was　an　announcement　that　she　was　engaged　to　one　of　her　own　clan；　and　the　news　spread　among　her　friends。　　The　romantic　Mrs。　Hofland　had　conjured　up　the　suggestion；　to　Miss　Mitford's　extreme　annoyance。　　It　is　said　Mrs。　Hofland　also　married　off　Miss　Edgeworth　in　the　same　manner。

Mary　Mitford　found　her　true　romance　in　friendship；　not　in　love。　　One　day　Mr。　Kenyon　came　to　see　her　while　she　was　staying　in　London；　and　offered　to　show　her　the　Zoological　Gardens；　and　on　the　way　he　proposed　calling　in　Gloucester　Place　to　take　up　a　young　lady；　a　connection　of　his　own；　Miss　Barrett　by　name。　　It　was　thus　that　Miss　Mitford　first　made　the　acquaintance　of　Mrs。　Browning；　whose　friendship　was　one　of　the　happiest　events　of　her　whole　life。　　A　happy　romance　indeed；　with　that　added　reality　which　must　have　given　it　endurance。　　And　indeed　to　make　a　new　friend　is　like　learning　a　new　language。　　I　myself　have　a　friend　who　says　that　we　have　each　one　of　us　a　chosen　audience　of　our　own　to　whom　we　turn　instinctively；　and　before　whom　we　rehearse　that　which　is　in　our　minds；　whose　opinion　influences　us；　whose　approval　is　our　secret　aim。　　All　this　Mrs。　Browning　seems　to　have　been　to　Miss　Mitford。

'I　sit　and　think　of　you　and　of　the　poems　that　you　will　write；　and　of　that　strange　rainbow　crown　called　fame；　until　the　vision　is　before　me。　。　。　。　　My　pride　and　my　hopes　seem　altogether　merged　in　you。　　At　my　time　of　life　and　with　so　few　to　love；　and　with　a　tendency　to　body　forth　images　of　gladness；　you　cannot　think　what　joy　it　is　to　anticipate。　。　。　。'　　So　wrote　the　elder　woman　to　the　younger　with　romantic　devotion。　　What　Miss　Mitford　once　said　of　herself　was　true；　hers　was　the　instinct　of　the　bee　sucking　honey　from　the　hedge　flower。　　Whatever　sweetness　and　happiness　there　was　to　find　she　turned　to　with　unerring　directness。

It　is　to　Miss　Barrett　that　she　sometimes　complains。　　'It　will　help　you　to　understand　how　impossible　it　is　for　me　to　earn　money　as　I　ought　to　do；　when　I　tell　you　that　this　very　day　I　received　your　dear　letter　and　sixteen　others；　then　my　father　brought　into　my　room　the　newspaper　to　hear　the　ten　or　twelve　columns　of　news　from　India；　then　I　dined　and　breakfasted　in　one；　then　I　got　up；　and　by　that　time　there　were　three　parties　of　people　in　the　garden；　eight　others　arrived　soon　after。　。　。　。　　I　was　forced　to　leave；　being　engaged　to　call　on　Lady　Madeline　Palmer。　　She　took　me　some　six　miles　on　foot　in　Mr。　Palmer's　beautiful　plantations；　in　search　of　that　exquisite　wild…flower　the　bog…bean；　do　you　know　it？　most　beautiful　of　flowers；　either　wildor；　as　K。　puts　it；〃tame。〃　　After　long　search　we　found　the　plant　not　yet　in　bloom。'

Dr。　Mitford　weeps　over　his　daughters　exhaustion；　telling　everybody　that　she　is　killing　herself　by　her　walks　and　drives。　　He　would　like　her　never　to　go　beyond　the　garden　and　beyond　reach　of　the　columns　of　his　newspaper。　　She　declares　that　it　is　only　by　getting　out　and　afield　that　she　can　bear　the　strain　and　the　constant　alternation　of　enforced　work　and　anxiety。　　Nature　was；　indeed；　a　second　nature　to　her。　　Charles　Kingsley　himself　could　scarcely　write　better　of　the　East　wind。　。　。　。

'We　have　had　nine　weeks　of　drought　and　east　wind；　scarcely　a　flower　to　be　seen；　no　verdure　in　the　meadows；　no　leaves　in　the　hedgerows；　if　a　poor　violet　or　primrose　did　make　its　appearance　it　was　scentless。　　I　have　not　once　heard　my　aversion　the　cuckoo。　。　。　　and　in　this　place；　so　evidently　the　rendezvous　of　swallows；　that　it　takes　its　name　from　them；　not　a　swallow　has　yet　appeared。　　The　only　time　that　I　have　heard　the　nightingale；　I　drove；　the　one　mild　day　we　have　had；　to　a　wood　where　I　used　to　find　the　woodsorrel　in　beds；　only　two　blossoms　of　that　could　be　found；　but　a　whole　chorus　of　nightingales　saluted　me　the　moment　I　drove　into　the　wood。'

There　is　something　of　Madame　de　Sevigne　in　her　vivid　realisation　of　natural　things。

She　nursed　her　father　through　a　long　and　trying　illness；　and　when　he　died　found　herself　alone　in　the　world　with　impaired　health　and　very　little　besides　her　pension　from　the　Civil　List　to　live　upon。　　Dr。　Mitford　left　1000　pounds　worth　of　debts；　which　this　honourable　woman　then　and　there　set　to　work　to　try　and　pay。　　So　much　courage　and　devotion　touched　the　hearts　of　her　many　friends　and　readers；　and　this　sum　was　actually　subscribed　by　them。　　Queens；　archbishops；　dukes；　and　marquises　subscribe　to　the　testimonial；　so　do　the　literary　ladies；　Mesdames　Bailey；　Edgeworth；　Trollope；　Mrs。　Opie　is　determined　to　collect　twenty　pounds　at　least；　although　she　justly　says　she　wishes　it　were　for　anything　but　to　pay　the　Doctor's　debts。

In　1844　it　is　delightful　to　read　of　a　little　ease　at　last　in　this　harassed　life；　of　a　school…feast　with　buns　and　flags　organised　by　the　kind　lady；　the　children　riding　in　waggons　decked　with　laurel；　Miss　Mitford　leading　the　way；　followed　by　eight　or　ten　neighbouring　carriages；　and　the　whole　party　waiting　in　Swallowfield　Lane　to　see　the　Queen　and　Prince　Albert　returning　from　their　visit　to　the　Duke　of　Wellington。　　'Our　Duke　went　to　no　great　expense；'　says　Miss　Mitford。　　（Dr。　Mitford　would　have　certainly　disapproved　had　he　been　still　alive。）　　One　strip　of　carpet　the　Duke　did　buy；　the　rest　of　the　furniture　he　hired　in　Reading　for　the　week。　　The　ringers；　after　being　hard　at　work　for　four　hours；　sent　a　can　to　the　house　to　ask　for　some　beer；　and　the　can　was　sent　back　empty。

It　was　towards　the　end　of　her　life　that　Miss　Mitford　left　Three　Mile　Cross　and　came　to　Swallowfield　to　stay　altogether。　　'The　poor　cottage　was　tumbling　around　us；　and　if　we　had　stayed　much　longer　we　should　have　been　buried　in　the　ruins；'　she　says；　'there　I　had　toiled　and　striven　and　tasted　as　bitterly　of　bitter　anxiety；　of　fear　and　hope；　as　often　falls　to　the　lot　of　women。'　　Then　comes　a　charming　description　of　the　three　miles　of　straight　and　dusty　road。　　'I　walked　from　one　cottage　to　the　other　on　an　autumn　evening　when　the　vagrant　birds；　whose　habit　of　assembling　there　for　their　annual　departure；　gives；　I　suppose；　its　name　of　Swallowfield　to　the　village；　were　circling　over　my　head；　and　I　repeated　to　myself　the　pathetic　lines　of　Hayley　as　he　saw　those　same　birds　gathering　upon　his　roof　during　his　last　illness：

　　　　　'〃Ye　gentle　birds；　that　perch　aloof；　　　　　　　　And　smooth　your　pinions　on　my　roof。　。　。

　　　　　'〃Prepare　for　your　departure　hence　　　　　　　　Ere　winter's　angry　threats　commence；　　　　　　　　Like　you　my　soul　would　smooth　her　plume　　　　　　　　For　longer　flights　beyond　the　tomb。

　　　　　'〃May　God　by　whom　is　seen　and　heard　　　　　　　　Departing　men　and　wandering　bird；　　　　　　　　In　mercy　mark　us　for　His　own　　　　　　　　And　guide　us　to　the　land　unknown！〃'

Thoughts　soothing　and　tender　came　with　those　touching　lines；　and　gayer　images　followed。　。　。　。

It　is　from　Swallowfield　that　she　writes：　　'I　have　fell　this　blessing　of　being　able　to　respond　to　new　friendships　very　strongly　lately；　for　I　have　lost　many　old　and　valued　connections　during　this　trying　spring。　　I　thank　God　far　more　earnestly　for　such　blessings　than　for　my　daily　bread；　for　friendship　is　the　bread　of　the　heart。'

It　was　late　in　life　to　make　such　warm　new　ties　as　those　which　followed　her　removal　from　Three　Mile　Cross；　but　some　of　the　most　cordial　friendships　of　her　life　date　from　this　time。　　Mr。　James　Payn　and　Mr。　Fields　she　loved　with　some　real　motherly　feeling；　and　Lady　Russell　who　lived　at　the　Hall　became　her　tender　and　devoted　friend。

VI。

We　went　down　to　Reading　the　other　day；　as　so　many　of　Miss　Mitford's　friends　have　done　before；　to　look　at　'our　village'　with　our　own　eyes；　and　at　the　cottage　in　which　she　lived　for　so　long。　　A　phaeton　with　a　fast…stepping　horse　met　us　at　the　station　and　whirled　us　through　the　busy　town　and　along　the　straight　dusty　road　beyond　it。　As　we　drove　along　i