Model Women

ary W

I.-HAN

odness, and of zeal and discretion, I never witnessed. All her resources, influences, and opportunities, were simply and inv

iam

ERA

nt through the progress of society, but literature is ever new, and never old; it is enduring as the great features of nature which are imaged in it, and the manifold aspects of human life from which it derives its chief value and fascination. The dominion of popular writing is being increased at a most marvellous rate. Literature is now crowned as the very chiefest monarch of these times. On many topics we differ, but editors, authors, critics, and all the disseminators of literature, are unanimous as to the necessity of the diffusion of knowledge. What a mine of intellectual wealth has that admira

GRA

aordinary. When about three years old, her mother found that in listening to the lessons taught her elder sisters, she had learned them for herself. She wrote rhymes at the age of four, and before that period repeated her catechism in the church in a manner which excited the admiration of the clergyman, who had so recently received her at the font. Her nurse had formerly lived in the family of Dryden, and little Hannah took great delight in hearing stories about the great poet. Before she had completed her eighth year, her thi

led herself of the instructions of masters in the Italian and Spanish languages. For her knowledge of the physical sciences, she was largely indebted to the self-taught philosopher, James Ferguson; and it is probable that her admirable elocutionary powers were the result of lessons received from Mr. Sheridan. In 1764,

times in the course of six years the wedding-day was fixed, and as often postponed by her affianced husband. Miss Hannah More's health and spirits failed; she could see no rational prospect of happiness with a man who could so trifle with her feelings, and at last found resolution to terminate the anxious and pai

e splendid circle in which he moved. In six weeks she became intimate with the rank and talent of the time. One of the two sprightly sisters who accompanied her to London, graphically describes her first interview with the great moralist of the eighteenth century. Miss Reynolds telling the doctor of the rapturous exclamations of the sisters on the road, and Johnson shaking his scientific head at Miss Hannah, and calling her "a silly thing!" she seating herself in the lexicographer's great chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius, and he laughing heartily, and assuring her that it was a chair in which he never sat. Miss Hannah More's quickness of repartee, ap

of her former publications. In 1786, she withdrew from what she called "the world," into the pleasant villages of Gloucester and Somerset. In the parish of Wrington, she built a cottage, which was called Cowslip Green. Here she laboured diligently, and lived a life of active benevolence. When in her forty-third year, she assumed the matronly style of Mrs. More, a fashion more prevalent then than now. Among her most meritorious services, was the establishment of Sunday and day schools, clothing associations, and female benefit societies, throughout the mining district of th

, that they disposed of their property at Bath, and made Barley Wood their home, in 1802. The clouds of obloquy had now broken up, and in the clear brightness which succeeded, Mrs. More had thrown herself into fresh local charities, and was engaged with new literary undertakings, when she received a severe b

his life in 1819. The sisters had lived most happily together, and these bereavements were felt by Mrs. More with all the keenness of her sensitive nature. The poor people had been accustomed to look to Barley Wood as their chief resource, and scarcely a day

her servants became manifest, she tried to correct the evil by mild remonstrance; but when at length discoveries were made, calculated to represent her as the patroness of vice, or at least as indifferent to its progress, she discharged her eight pampered minions, and broke up her establishment at sweet

further conflict, and the time of her deliverance drew nigh. On the 7th of September, 1833, within five months of the completion of her eighty-ninth

he grave in Wrington churchyard. The mortal remains of the five sisters rest together under a large slab stone, inclosed by an iron railing and overshadowed by a yew-tree. A mura

d not mark

need not t

image in t

ny a soul

FUL AUT

sagaciously improved it. Her command of language, erudite, rhetorical, conversational, and colloquial, is commensurate with the noble literature and tongue of Britain. In the days of her infancy, when

leads to a

re populous

d with extraordinary rapidity. In 1786, she published another volume of poetry, "Florio: a Tale for Fine Gentlemen and Fine Ladies," and "The Bas Bleu; or, Conversation." These received a welcome as enthusiastic as if England had been one vast drawing-room, and she the petted heiress, sure of social applause for all her sayings and doings. In 1788, appeared "Thoughts on the Importance of the Manners of the Great to General Society." It was published anonymously, but the writer was soon recognised, and the book obtained an enormous sale. In 1791, she issued a sequel to this work, under the title of "An Estimate of the Religion of the Fashionable World." It was bought up and read with the same avidity as its predecessor. In 1792, she produced a dialogue, called "Village Politics." Thousands of copies were purchased by the Government for gratuitous distribution, and it was translated into several languages. In 1793, she published her "Remarks on the Speech of M. Duport," which brought her in more than ￡240. In 1795, she commenced "The Cheap Repository," consisting of tales, both in prose and verse. The undertaking was continued for about three years, and each number attained to a very large sale. In 1799, appeared her "Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education." Seven large ed

ften well drawn, her scenes well painted, and she could be amusing in no ordinary degree when she liked. Although we have no hesitation in admitting her into the long list of canonized bards, yet it must be confessed that her literary ren

pwards of 50,000 copies of her larger works were sold, while her tracts and ballads were circulated over the country by millions. We venture to affirm that her books were more

ER OF M

use of the pen. Her figure was graceful, and her manners captivating. The eye, which her sisters called "diamond," and which the painters complained they could not put upon canvas, coruscated, and her countenance sparkled, when engaged in conversation. S

sationalist. No wonder that she often received messages from His Majesty King George the Third, from the Queen, and other members of the royal family; and that her friendship was eagerly sought by coronets and mitres. Mr. Roberts, one of her biographers, says:-"All the power

nts were superior even to the intellectual faculties. She exactly discerned the signs of the times, and adroitly adapted her writings to the necessities of her generation. All of the

II.-AN

ct upon her countrymen, who not only found recorded in them much of national history and antiquities, which would

alter

R-WRI

f a dancing-master. But they are also characterised by good sense and refined taste, and are models of literary art. The copyright was sold for ￡1500, and five editions were called for within twelve months. Authoresses have also been distinguished for the excellence and extent of their epistolary correspondence. We might adduce as an example a noble lady, who to her myrtle-crown of beauty, and her laurel-crown of wit, added the oaken-leaved crown,-the corona civica,-due to those who have saved fellow-creatures' lives. For graphic power, clearness, and idiomatic grace of style, no less than as pictures of foreign scenery, and man

GRA

but having caught the military spirit, which in that day was almost universal among the Scottish Highlanders, he became an officer in the British army. Her mother was a descendant of the ancient family of Stewart of Invernahyle in Argy

with less activity of mind, would have become torpid under the same circumstances. Yet whatever of purity of thought, originality of character, and premature thirst for knowledge distinguished me from other children of my age, was, I am persuaded, very much owing to these privations. Never was a human being less improved, in the sense in which that expression is generally understood; but never was one less spoiled by indulgence, or more carefully pr

World as westward, Anne Macvicar set out one Sunday evening, when only two years and eight months old, and walked a mile to the west of the Trongate. A lady saw, with some surprise, a child neatly dressed in white, with bare head and bare arms, walking alone in the middle of the street. She asked her where she came f

ock, where Mr. Macvicar was stationed with a party of Highlanders. Here she not only learned t

ats. "We had a most romantic journey; sleeping sometimes in the woods, sometimes in forts, which formed a chain of posts in the then trackless wilderness. We had no books but the Bible and some military treatises; but I grew familiar with the Old Testament; and a Scotch

t which at first it is capable of understanding only partially. This is clear from what came out of Anne Macvicar's study of Paradise Lost. The most eminent woman in Albany at that time was the widow of Colonel Schuyler. Her house was the resort of all strangers, whose manners or conduct entitled them to her regard. Her ancestors, understanding, and education, gave her great influence in society, which was increased by the liberal use she made of her large fortune. "Some time after our arrival at Albany," writes our authoress, "I accompanied my parents one evening to visit Madame Schuyler, whom I regarded as the Minerva of my imagination,

market value of which was every day rising. Miss Macvicar was looked upon as an heiress; but her father, falling into bad health, was obliged to return to Scotland in 1768, bringing his wife and d

principle, and correct judgment. At that time he was chaplain to the garrison, but in 1776, he became the minister of Laggan, a neighbouring parish, and in 1779, was uni

ght children, to which was added the pressure of some pecuniary obligations incurred by a too liberal hospitality. The children inherited the same insidious disease. Three sank

her husband having obtained a military chaplaincy a few years before his death. In these circumstances, her

h-west of Stirling, a place of unrivalled beauty. In 1806, we find Mrs. Grant residing in

stinguished in society for her great talents, and esteemed for her many virtues. Her object in making

only ￡50, but was afterwards increased to ￡100 per annum, was granted her by government, in consequence of an application in her behalf, which was drawn out by Sir Walter Scott, and subscri

until the end of October, 1838, when she was seized with a severe attack of influenza. Her son was with her during her last illness, and she was se

cemetery of St. Cuthbert's, then nearly new. She was buried near the g

ARY C

America; and the thirty years spent amid the beauties and glories of the Highlands, apart from all set teaching, away from all formal schools. It is good to see the horizon one red line, pointing like a finger to the unrisen sun-to hear the earliest notes of the birds-to trample on the emerald grass and the blooming heather-to noti

rse, when little more than nine years old. She wrote no more till she wandered on the banks of the Cart, and afterwards at Fort Augustus, and again upon her way home to Laggan, after spending some months at Glasgow. All these scraps she gave away, without preserving a single copy. But the friends among whom Mrs. Grant scattered her verses carefully treasured them, and in 1803, her first publication-"The Highland

idgy mountains

ening glens t

in some lonel

the rest, wher

matron, hopel

ret breast con

hs the wintr

uses all the

, who, smit with

ntom Fame throu

stretched on H

ath the unfa

yes the water

ated to retu

forced so many to emigrate. The other poems are on a variety of topics, chiefly in illustration o

he wild! who

dusky mount

y hues of

s artful va

ealth of sweet

the hardy m

Marquis of Huntly's departure for Holland with his regiment, the 92nd, or Gordon Highla

what, does your H

what, does your Hi

fty plume, the gal

e manly breast that s

fty plume, the gal

e manly breast that s

prince of booksellers, has written me a letter, expressed with such delicacy and liberality as is enough to do honour to all Paternoster Row: he tells me that the profits of the second edition of the Letters amount to ￡400, of which they keep ￡100 to answer for bad debts and uncalculated expenses, and against the beginning of next year I get the other ￡300." Publishers, as a rule, deal liberally with popular writers. "Memoirs of an American Lady, with Sketches, Manners, and Scenery in America, as they existed previous to the Revolution," we

, and considerable powers of landscape painting. They first drew attention to the more striking and

R OF MRS

be obliged to walk with crutches, and even with that assistance her motions were slow and languid. Her broad and noble forehead, relieved by the parted grey hair, excelled e

ct of curiosity and attraction to strangers from all parts of the world. The native simplicity of her mind, and an entire freedom from all attempt at display, made the youngest person feel in the presence of a friend. Her extensive correspondence, she believed, had a tendency to prolong her life. Sh

ctions alive. She was left a widow, without fortune, and with a large family dependent upon her for their subsistence. Surely if any one had a clear title of immunity from the obligation to carry her cares beyond her own threshold, it was this woman. Yet she devoted much of her time to benevolent ef

I.-ANNE LO

e most abstruse metaphysical theories of Germany precisely, yet perspicuously and agreeably-and combined the eloquence which inspires exalted sentiments of v

es Mack

LITY OF

hat although sent to school, furnished with accomplished teachers, and surrounded with all the appliances of learning, they emerge dunces; while others, by the sheer force of their genius, push their way upwards to eminence, amid every form of hardship, difficulty, and privation. The character of mental products is as much determined by the natural condition and constitution of mind as are the natural products of the earth determined by its physical conditions. It would be just as irrational to expect glowing pictures, grand conceptions, and lofty harmonies to spring in the universal mind, as to expect to clothe the whole globe with the cocoa, th

GRA

threatened his son with disinheritance if he persisted in wooing a bride whose dowry consisted only of her own many excellencies. Few children have come into the world under more favourable auspices. She had wise parents, liberal culture, intellectual friends, ample fortune, splendid talents, and good health. Her favourite a

t to the conversation of the eminent savans who constantly visited her father's house. Without opening her mouth she seemed to speak in her turn, so much expression had her mobile features. When only ten years

st sapling, be left to its own powers of growth. Roaming through the rural scenes of St. Ouen, her mind was enriching itself by observation and reflection.

ps had she been thirty instead of twenty years old, even in France, where the filial virtues to a large extent nullify the conjugal, no motherly persuasion nor fatherly approval would have induced her to marry a dull, unimaginative man like Baron de Sta?l, for whom she felt no kind of affection. After a few years a separation

of anecdotes about her foibles and infringements of etiquette. About this time too she began to produce those wonderful books which form an era in the history of modern literature, and which demonstrate that in intellectual endowment she had no compeer amo

er own safety by a flight into Switzerland, but she could not leave Paris while her friends were in danger, and she might be of use to them. The words "Swedish Embassy," on her door, gave her some security. By her passionate eloquence and consummate diplomacy she saved M. de Narbonne, and several other distinguished persons. On the morning of the 2nd of September, she set out from Paris in all the state of an ambassadress. In a few minutes her carriage was stopped, her servants overpowered, and she herself

e had always loved. At all events, she became the centre of a little colony of French emigrants. Among the refugees were many illustrious people. Their funds were not in a flourishing condition, but they managed to purchase one small carriage, and ex-ministers took their turn t

cted to checkmate it. She expressed her opinions openly and with all the force for which she was celebrated, and they left upon the first man of the day many unpleasant impressions. The future emperor gathered something from his brother Joseph concerning the principles of the most popular saloon in Paris, and watched for an opportunity to get rid of such an influential foe. Her father wrote a book which gave gre

, Naples, Vienna, Berlin, Milan, Lyons; if she wants to publish libels, let her go to London. I should think of her with pleasure in any of those cities; but Paris, you see, is where I live myself, and I want none but those who love me there." The Baron de Sta?l renewed his entreaties. "You are very young; if you were as old as I, you would judge more accurately; but I like to see a son pleading for his mother. If I had put her

, and had gone to Geneva to recover from his wounds. The young officer of hussars, aged twenty-five, worshipped Madame de Sta?l; and she, a mature ma

er Europe to Vienna, Moscow, St. Petersburgh, thence through Finland to Stockholm. In 1813, she arrived in England, and was the lion, or lioness, of at least one London season, the whig aristocracy fêting her,

army and the people, and spared none who had taken part in the restoration. "I felt," she says, "when I heard of his coming, as if the ground yawned beneath my feet." In the spring of 1816, she was at Coppet, the centre of a brilliant circle, with Lord Byron near her at the Villa Diodati. To Madame de Sta?l, Paris was the centre of the world

ved God, my father, and liberty." The royal family were constant inquirers after her health, and the Duke of Wellington called daily at her door to ask if hope might yet remain. At two o'cloc

e strongly the stirrings of the soul within than Madame de Sta?l. So long as genius and patriotism and piety c

S OF WR

nce of passion, and she became the highest representative of female authorship. We humbly submit that it is impossible to read her incomparable works without feeling the soul elate, and seeing a glory not of earth shed over this mortal scene. A philosophy profounder than the philosop

e." It is a valuable contribution to the political history of the times; but as it was never sold to the public, we shall not dwell upon it. This year also, she published at Lausanne, under the title "Recueil de Morceaux Détachés," a collection of her juvenile writings. This work manifests an intimate knowledge of the principal romances, not only of France, but of Europe. In the summer of 1796, her work-"De l'Influence des Passions sur le Bonheur des Individus et des Nations," a work full of originality and genius. She treated first of the passions; then of the sentiments which are intermediate between the passions and the resources which we find in ourselves; and finally, of the resources which we find in ourselves. Here she first revealed her almost unequalled power as a delineator of the human passions. In 1800, she published, "De la Littérature Considérée dans ses Rapports avec les Institutions sociales." This work must take an abiding place in the history of the female mind. Few, if any, of her contemporaries of the male sex could have executed it; and none of her own sex could have planned it. "Delphine" was published in 1802. This romance greatly increased her reputation; although subjected to much adverse criticism. But far superior to it in every respect

creative order, with boundless fertility of fancy, with an intellect of intense electric light, with a tendency to search out the very quintessence of feeling,

OF MADAM

der anything like a full and true portrait. She had a good physical constitution, which is of far more importance than many clever people seem to imagine. Her personal appearance was plain; she had no good

M. de Bonald, M. Villemain, M. Sainte-Beuve, have each in his turn testified admiration of her brilliant capacity, almost always oratorical, and especially distinguished by an unrivalled superabundance and movement and ardour of thoug

s fruit. Yet blame her for these faults as we may, we must still admire her, as an affectionate daughter, a devoted wife, and a loving mother; as a leader of society, and yet free from its vices. She was noted for candour, integrity, and kindness. French by birth, Swiss by lineage, Sw

CAROLINA, BA

hos, her compositions are specially remarkable; but when her mu

Rogers

IS PO

ng to Dr. Blair, "Poetry is the language of passion or enlivened imagination, formed most commonly into regular numbers." This seems a pretty near approach to a true definition. Still it is defective, for there are parts of poetry which are not included either under "passion or enlivened imagination." Competent critics will admit that a true definition seizes and exhibits the distinctive element and speciality of the thing defined; and tried by this test every definition we are acquainted with fails in doing the very thing required-determining what may be called the "differential mark" of poetry. Perhaps this question, which has so long puzzled the literary world, may be incapable of a categorical answer, but it seems to us essent

GRA

entury by defending the castle of Stirling, against a formidable siege by the first Edward. Carolina was born in the mansion house of Gask, on the 16th of July, 1766. Her father was so keen a Jacobite, that she, along with other two of his children, were named after Prince Charles Edward. Even the Prayer-Books which he put into his children's hands had the names of the exiled family pasted over those of the reigning one. He could not bear the name of the "German lairdie and his leddy," to be mentioned i

minently fitted to stir her warm imagination. Not only so, the natural surrou

wn heath and

mountain and

oving familiarity with nature in all its various moods, which imparts to her verses one of their many charms. She entered eagerly into all the pleasures which the world can afford its votaries. So energetic was she in her

the old castle of Murthly, where an English clergyman had also arrived. He was a winner of souls. At morning worship she was in her place with the household, and listened to what God's ambassador said on the promise, 'Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.' That forenoon she was seen no more. When she appeared again her beautiful face was spoiled w

aternal cousin William Murray Nairne, who was Inspector-General of Barracks in Scotland, and held the rank of m

union was a delightful one; the husband and wife lived as joint-heirs of the grace of life; one in the family, in the social circle, and in the house of God; singin

thetic, but all vastly superior in simple poetic power, as well as moral tone, to those she was anxious to supplant. Soon her lyrics were scattered broadcast over the land, carrying pure and elevated sentiments, and even religious truth, into many a neglected home. Through the influence of a lady, who knew her claims as a poetess, she was induced in 1821 to contribute to a collection of national songs, which was being published by Mr. Robert Purdie, an ente

f to look for the former, visited Scotland, and heard Mrs. Nairne's song, "The Attainted Scottish Nobles" sung: this circumstance is generally supposed to have led to th

ad set on this world, to rise and shine in brighter skies: vital Christianity was as visible in her departed husband, as the broad blac

ll that a Christian mother could desire. But alas! this gourd was doomed to perish also. In the spring of 1837, the young baron suffered much from influenza, and for the benefit of his health he went to Brussels, accompanied by his mother. There he caught a severe cold, and after an illness of six weeks, died on the 7th of December, 1837. Her heart bled for her son, but no murmur escaped

nded the depth

he sands that

red the height

ou mete out a

eroom, "passing and repassing the bust of her darling son, and stopping as often to

of a school where children were daily taught, she thus delivered her sentiments on the great subject of education. "You say they like 'The Happy Land' best: is the gospel in it? Repeat it." Her eager eye watched each line till she should hear what satisfied her. She then said, "It's pretty, very sweet; but it might be

vely churchyard among the mountains of her own picturesque county, where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet lie," did a weepin

AND CRI

gs to her country and to the world than any Caledonian bard, Burns alone excepted. The lyrics of Scotland were characterized by a loose ribaldry, she resolved to supply songs of a high

'er a lane

gin she w

joy wad ne'

d cheer her

e'er a we

gin she w

be blithe

s the day

lassies, yo

n each ith

it has it

was ne'er

it has its

inna pass

ut like bon

the thorn

ir pages, for which they are indebted to the author of the much admired song, 'The Land o' the Leal;' but they fear to wound a delicacy which shrinks from all observation." "The Land o' the Leal" well deserved the praise bestowed upon it. The name alone is a triumph of word-painting. Who that has heard it sung in a

arin' a

wreaths in

earin

and o' t

e sorrow t

her cauld no

y's ay

and o' t

e bairn's

th good and

we grudge

and o' t

s sel' wear

a-comin' f

hat's aye

and o' t

that joy was

e battle fo

u' man ne

and o' t

r glistenin

ngs to be

gels b

and o' t

e leal and

s wearin' th

ll wel

and o' t

e-weel, my

s cares are

, and we'l

and o' t

r of every Scotch audience has heard crooned or chirped in glee and waggery. It is matchless alike as respects scene and dramatis person?, its fine suggestive touches, and its Scotch wut. The present Laird of Cockpe

ckpen he's proud

n up with the th

ife his braw

wooin' was fa

dyke-side a l

ad he thought s

aughter o' Cla

lass wi' a l

el pouthered an

as white, his c

ng, a sword, a

refuse the lai

gray mare, an

the yett o' Cl

ess Jean to com

speak to the L

as makin' the el

s the laird at

r apron, and o

ed ribbons, and

cam' ben, he

s errand he soo

laird when the

gh curtsey sh

he was-nae si

is mare-he r

ught, as he gaed

refuse the Lai

the laird his

e reflected on w

get better, its

refuse the Lai

laird and the

arm-in-arm to the

the ha' like a

s nae chickens ap

ng it in every principal town in the kingdom. In the touching lines "Rest is not here," she embodied her own

book, a new edition of which has already been called for, there is an excellent portrait of the Baroness. The

OF BARON

f the world. So remarkable was the beauty of her face and the elegance of her shape, that she was

ghts lay in the cultivation of an elegant imagination, and in the enjoyment of those pleasures which can only be tasted by a mind of a refined order.

highest in the scale were those institutions which have for their design the Christianizing of the people at home; and I also mentioned to her what we were doing in the West Port; and there came to me from her in the course of a day or two no less a sum than ￡300. She is now dead; she is now in her grave, and her works do follow her. When she gave me this noble benefaction, she laid me

FELICIA DOR

ery first in the first rank; and this pre-eminence has been acknowledged, not only in her own land, but wh

cbeth Mo

C PO

epest, and when adequately expressed, are immortal. The song-writer and the psalmist are equally divine; and the rich and noble melodies which they send abroad from their resounding lyres, the world claims as an inheritance. True lyrics themselves may be weak and wandering, but the children of their brains are strong and immortal. Empires may pass away, but the ecstatic ether which they breathe on the world, shall remain. That sweet psalm, "The Lord is my Shepherd," was drawn by David from the strings of a well-tuned instrument, and it expresses the feelings of Christians

GRA

ffspring of this marriage were distinguished by superior gifts, cultivated talents, and refined taste. Felicia Dorothea, the fifth child, was bo

n of Felicia Browne thus devolved exclusively on her mother; and under her judicious instruction, she learned with facility the elements of general knowledge-evinced peculiar aptness for the acquisition of languages, drawing, and music-and derived information with extraordinary ease, quickness, and clearness, from all things visible, audible, and tangible. Th

the hard pavement, crowded streets, and social constraint of London, and the glory, freshness, and freedom of her mountain home, made her more anxious to get away than ever she had been to come. Soon after she appeared in print, and the harsh animadversions of reviewers probably ignorant of the years of the authoress, so distresse

erever she went. Captain Hemans was a handsome well-bred soldier, but of a cold methodical constitution, as destitute of the romantic element as the branches of trees in winter of all the green, soft luxury of foliage. There never has been a true marriage in this world without sympathy between the husband and the wife. A man of Captain Hemans' temper

pposite side of the river Clwyd, with Bronwylfa in full sight. While domiciled at Rhyllon, Miss Jewsbury, with whom she had previously been in correspondence, frequently visited her and soothed her perturbed feelings. Mrs. Hemans took great delight in the company of Miss Jewsbury, and always expresse

Flintshire had taught her to regard as a North Welsh metropolis. But the leaving of Wales was a great trial, and greatly augmented by the affectionate regrets and enthusiastic blessings of the Welsh peasants, who kissed the very gate-hinges through which she had passed. In her first letter from Wavertree to St. Asaph, she writes: "Oh, that Tuesday morning! I literally covered my face all the way from Bronwylfa, until the boys told me we had passed the Clwyd range of hills. Then something of the bitterness was over." For the first time in her life she now took upon herself

ts command a panorama to which there are few, if any, parallels on earth; visited the Calton Hill, broken with cliffs, enamelled with golden furze, feathered with trees, and studded with monuments for the mighty dead; spent some time at Holyrood Palace, where the young, brilliant, and beautiful Mary reigned in queenly splendour; and having become acquainted with the principal objects of local interest, proceeded to Roxburghshire. At Abbotsford-that "romance of stone and mortar," as it has been termed-Sir Walter Scott received

ing and riding, in boating on Windermere, in sketching woody mountains, in conversing wit

re home in Dunedin. She made a voyage to Dublin, to ascertain its suitablility as a place of residence. From Dublin she crossed the channel to Holyhead, and travelled through the Island of Anglesea,

r unreserved submission to His will. In the autumn of 1833, the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, the brother-in-law and sister of Mrs. Hemans, whom she had not seen for five years, came to Dublin. Her sister saw with pain the worn and altered looks which time, care, and sickness had wrought. In 1834, referring to the brightening of heart and soul into the perfect day of Christian excellence, she remarks; "When the wear

k a heavy languor oppressed her, and sometimes her mind wandered, but always in sunny scenes. On the evening of Saturday the 16th, at nine o'clo

Dawson Street, Dublin; and over her grave were i

he bosom o

it, rest

ith us thy f

was on

narrow hou

its plac

ve seen thy

may fear

lations in the cathedral of St. Asaph,

s Ta

re by her

MEMO

IA HE

cter is bes

R WRI

Dublin, Ma

d 4

OF HE

r periods. The juvenile, the classic, the romantic, and the mature. Her mind precociously expanded to a keen sense of the beautiful, and a warm appreciation of nature and poetry. Some pieces found in her works date their composition as far back as 1803 and 1804; but it was not till 1808 that her first volume was ushered into the world. In 1812, she gave to the press "The Domestic Affections." In 1819, a

ritten much, her poetry is of various excellence; but for pathos, sentiment, and gorgeous richness of language, we know no lyrics superior to her little pieces. She was, as Lord Jeffrey well remarked, an admirable writer of occasional verses. Mrs

the feathery p

rows ripe unde

een islands of

forests perfu

ight birds on t

hues of all gl

, not there

away, in som

rs wander o'er

ning rays of

d lights up th

eams forth from

eet mother, tha

, not there

ng can be more polished, glowing, and harmonious, than her v

me!-Ye have c

mountains with

steps o'er the

at tell of the

e stars in the

leaves openin

England with every sentiment and feeling of freedom and patriotism. "The Homes of

ly homes o

tiful th

r tall ance

the pleas

oss their gr

hade and

lides past the

rejoicin

tes how well the graphic and patheti

in beauty,

d one home

are severed,

and strea

iful imagery does she express in "The Ho

ve their t

ither at the nor

s to set

easons for thin

uresque, the harmonious, and the moral. There may be "too many flowers

. The poems are chronologically arranged, with illustrative notes and a selection of contemporary cr

R OF MRS

ringlets of a rich golden brown; and the ever-varying expression of her brilliant eyes gave a changeful play to her countenance, which would have made it impossible for any painter to do justice to i

in the perfect music of her versification, she stands alone and superior. In the words of Miss Jewsbury, "The genius with which she was gifted, combined to inspire a passion for the ethereal, the

y in her affections: these would sometimes make her weep at a word, at others imbue her with courage, so that she was alternately a falcon-hearted

hid in a nig

e cypress. Her gladness was like a burst of sunlight; and if in he

LIZABETH BARR

ly. Not only have women of genius commanded universal homage, but the distinctive characteristics of the

Bayn

POE

. "Jerusalem Delivered" and the "Divina Comedia" are the most celebrated Italian epics. "Paradise Lost" is the greatest English epic. These are epic poems by way of eminence, but there are several species of minor poems which from their nature most also be ranked as epics. One of these is the "idyl," a term applied to what is called pastoral poetry. The ballad is another species of minor epic. Critics agree that this sort of poetry is the greatest work human nature is capable of. But attempts at epic poetry are now rare, the

GRA

and not a West India merchant as several biographies represent him to have been. She passed her girlhood

he land whe

cund childh

se with hil

ry close w

ow of app

from glad

educated as her capacity will allow. She is to be man's companion, and what can better enable her to be a fit companion for him, than a due comprehension of what he comprehends; an appreciation founded upon knowledge of the difficulties he has mastered, and power to stand beside him and help him in

hese old authors, but proved that she was possessed both of recondite learning and true poetic genius. If, as some critics aver, her earlier style resembles that of Tennyson; this arises, not from imitation, but from similarity of genius and classical taste. Proofs of rare reading and deep reflection abound in Miss Barrett's first attempt at authorship, published in 1826: "An Essay on Mind, and other Poems." Her next literary enterprise was a version of one of the g

l disappointments often distress us, and God's provid

s sorrow on the

sea. She was rapidly recovering, when one bright summer morning her brother and two young men, his friends, went out in a small boat for a trip of a few hours. Just as they crossed the bar, the vessel swamped, and all on board perished. Even their lifeless bodies were never recovered. They were sepulchred in the great ocean, which has wrapped its garment of green round many of the fairest and noblest of the sons of men, and which rolls its continue

d a few devoted friends were admitted, she nursed her remnant of life; reading meanwhile the best books in almost every language, and giving herself heart and soul to that poetry of which she seemed born to be the pri

ittle spor

s't to s

ld praise t

s may be

these dro

is glossy

ee it shal

watched b

night

thin a cur

nbeam broke

e sick a

athered f

hamber di

breeze

only wa

at when li

ains for

ogs in t

ares, and fol

oor or

only crep

guid cheek

in the

ogs of l

t the whi

woodsid

nly watche

tly utter

ouder

e or two q

n his glo

gh came

ang in ea

ndling, bre

ender

dog was

thin hand

dewlaps

ushed his

atformin

palm le

life itself, and life has been a very serious thing. I never mistook pleasure for the final cause of poetry, nor leisure for the hour of the poet. I have done my work, so far, as work, not as mere hand and head work apart from the personal being, but as the completest expression of that being to which I

th marriage came Mrs. Browning's welcome restoration to health and strength. The poet-pair started for Italy, staying first at Pisa, and then settling at Florence. In that metropolis of one of the most wealthy and powerful of the Italian States, she

and energetic. "The future of Italy," says our authoress, "shall not be disinherited." Then came, in 1856, "Aurora Leigh," a long and elaborate poem or novel in blank ver

eached England, universal regret was expressed for the loss of the talented lady; the press confessi

uare slab, with an inscription in Italian, which may be thus translated:-"Here wrote and died Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who to the heart of a woman joined the sci

AS A P

e Queen of song. But we do not wish to judge her by a less elevated standard or less rigid rules than those we apply to the poets generally. "Good for a woman," is the sort of praise she woul

led as the mightiest of mere men. Mrs. Browning is not Shakespeare; but we do not talk amusingly when we claim her as his counterpart. Milton was endowed with gifts of the soul which have been imparted to few of our race.

the m

olate brows, O

h level eyeli

o' the world. R

liar and be

od and of e

for ill, and

ing all that

ience of a c

aughters! If si

ath,-the ranso

ight, and comp

means of thee.

he world, thou

he woe thou d

able to the

at name, of who

ed bare the hil

hast to bear th

ring, answerin

down for each

s in guarding

rom the guarded

st too well served

some treaso

eart, and cr

es of an al

stic reasons

sinews. But,

itself its o

life working.

ing lips shall

ed by thee shal

d by thee shall

served thyself

which thou

, Moore, and Scott. With others, Byron, Wordsworth, and Tennyson will figure as chiefs. Now, in this selection, we venture to affirm Mrs. Browning has been often enrolled by men as well as by women; by some high upon the list, by others, of course, upon a lower level. There are not many

e. Her style is strong and clear, but uneven and abrupt. A sentence or paragraph often limps a little after the hastening thought, and a degree of stiffness is sometimes given by a pet word, coined, or obsolete, or picked up in an old book. It would be absurd to deny that certain characteristics of her poetry withhold it from

OF MRS.

e same; so it is not merely the impression of my partiality or my enthusiasm. Of a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark curls falling on either side of a most expressive face, large tender eyes richly fringed by dark eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam, and such a look of youthfulness, that I had some difficulty in persuading a friend, in whose carria

ith those of the few sovereigns of literature; touches which only the mightiest give. We admire and reverence the breadth and versatility of

n the sense of adopting, like Goethe, a Christian machinery for artistic self-worship; nor even in the sense of approaching, like Wordsworth, an august but abstract morality; but in the sense of finding, like Cowper, the whole hope of humanity bound up in Christ, and taking all the children of her mind to Him, that He may lay His hand on them and bl

I.-CHARLOT

RER

not thought deeply. I appeal to that larger and more solemn public, who know how to look with tender humility at faults a

. Ga

OF F

heroes and heroines among thieves and desperadoes; flagitiously indifferent alike to fact and morality, they have laboured with pernicious success to invest these wretched characters with a halo of romantic interest and dignity: but if on this account we give up the principle, then we must give up poetry, fable, allegory, and all kinds of imaginative literature. The society of our highest intellects must be renounced. Fictitious literature has been condemned on the ground that those novels which are taken up with a description of the world in its most vain and frivolous aspects, are the most popular. This is not true. The works of our modern fictionists are exceedingly popular; and no one acquainted with them will dare to say they are open to suc

GRA

r of Mr. Thomas Branwell, Penzance, Cornwall. In 1820, Mr. Bront? removed to Haworth, a chapelry in the West Riding, and Mrs. Bront? died the following year. Charlotte in after-years could but dimly recall the remembranc

ircumstance now occurs to my mind which I may as well mention. When my children were very young, when, as far as I can remember, the oldest was about ten years of age, and the youngest about four, thinking that they knew more than I had yet discovered, in order to make them speak with less timidity, I deemed that if they were put under a sort of cover I might gain my end; and happening to have a mask in the house, I told them all to stand and speak boldly from under cover of the mask. I began with the youngest (Anne, afterwards Acton Bell), and asked what a child like her most wanted; she answered, 'Age and experience.' I asked the next (Emily, afterwards Ellis Bell), what I had best do with her brother Bran

. Bront? took Maria and Elizabeth to Cowan Bridge, in July, 1824; and in September, he brought Charlotte and Emily to be admitted as pupils. Maria was untidy, but gentle, and intellectual. Elizabeth won much upon the esteem of the superintendent of the school by her exemplary patience. Emily was distinguished for fortitude. Charlotte was a "bri

ciated by her kind instructress, and friendships were formed with some of her fellow-pupils that lasted

ld. She looked a little old woman, so short-sighted that she always appeared to be seeking something, and moving her head from side to side to catch a sight of it. She was very shy and nervous, and spoke with a strong Irish accent.

she received her first bad mark for an imperfect lesson. Charlotte wept bitte

some of them being younger sisters of those who had been her own playmates; and however trying the duties were she had to perform, there was always a thoughtful friend watching

to health and strength, instead of remaining at Haworth to be a burden to her father, and to live on there in idleness perhaps for years, she determined, if everything else failed, to turn housemaid. Soon after, she became engaged as a governess in a family where she was destined to find an ungenial residence. The children all loved her, more or less, according to their different characters. But the mother was proud and pompous, and Miss Bront? as proud, though not so pompous, as sh

ok up their abode in Madame Héger's pensionnat. Towards the close of the year, word came from England that her aunt, Miss Branwell, was very ill. Before they got home, the funeral was over, and Mr. Bront? and A

s made their appearance, and consequently the sisters abandoned the idea of school-keeping, and turned their thoughts to literature. Their volume of poems was published in 1846; their names being veiled under those of Currer, Ellis,

me among the graves. In June, 1850, she visited London, saw her old hero the Duke of Wellington, at the Chapel Royal, had an interview with Lewes, and dined with Thackeray. The same summer she went on to Edinburgh to join the friends with whom she had been staying in town. In a letter to a correspondent, she says: "Do not think that I blaspheme, when I tell you that your great London, as compared to Dunedin, 'mine own romantic town,' is as prose com

rch, leaning on the arm of "one of the best gentlemen in the county," and looking "like a snowdrop." We almost smile as we think of the merciless derider of weak and insipid suitors findi

age, rightl

he tender

dise b

he last letter she ever wrote, we find the following sentence: "No kinder, better husband than mine, it seems

n be right. Martha tenderly waited on her mistress, and from time to time had tried to cheer her with the thoughts of the baby that was coming. But she died on the 31st March, 1855, in the t

d, and cast away. In Mrs. Nicholls she had found a holy sister, who ministered to her needs in her time of trial. Bitter was the grief of this young woman, and sincere her mourning. The other was a blind girl living some four miles from Haworth, who loved the deceased so

AS A NO

d of her book-else it had been little worth; or even blazon it on its surface. But she professed to write truly, to show living men and women meeting the exigencies, grappling with the problems, of real existence; to point out how the battle goes, in the circles of English middle life, between pretension and reality, between falsehood and truth. If we were content to listen to her as a historian, she relinquished with a smil

writer with whom we are acquainted, more deserving of praise for clearness, pointedness, and force. Would that any word of ours could recall the numerous admirers of morbid magnificence and barbarous dissonance, affected jargon and fantastic verbiage, laboured antithesis and false brilliance, and induce them to read night and da

they give us an assurance as of eyesight. Take the following bit of woodland painting from "Shirley," published in October, 1849: "I know all the pleasantest spots: I know where we could get nuts in nutting time; I know where wild strawberries abound; I know certain lonely, quite untrodden glades, carpeted with strange mosses, some yellow as if gilded, some sobe

he heath, where yonder flock is grazing, a veil, white as an avalanche, sweeps from her head to her feet, and arabesques of lightning flame on its borders. Under her breast I see her zone, purple like the horizon; through its blush shines the star of evening. The steady eyes I cannot picture. They are clear, they are deep as lakes, they are lifted and full of worship, they tremble with the softness of love and the lustre of prayer. Her forehead has the expanse o

neither do her eyes film. "Villette," commenced in the autumn of 1850, and brought to a conclusion in November, 1851, is a tale of the affections. A burning heart glows throughout its pages, and so true to nature is the del

the Christian world very generally seems to be of the same opinion, she taught the sacredness of the natural affections in the formation of the marriage relationship-the abs

OF MRS.

ly examined, it appeared to be composed of a great variety of tints. The usual expression was of quiet, listening intelligence; but now and then, on some just occasion for vivid interest or wholesome indignation, a light would shine out, as if some spiritual lamp had been kindled, which glowed behind those expressive orbs. I never saw the like in any other human creature. As for the rest of her features, they were plain, large, and ill set; but, unless you began to catalogue them, you were hardly aware of the fact; for the eyes and power of the countenance overbalanced every physical defect; the crooked m

ay from every opening flower;" but they add no new thoughts. Others are characterized by originality of thought; they investigate new subjects, form new worlds, and spin new creations out of their own minds. Currer Bell belonged to this class. S

ntelligent old man living at Haworth, said to her biographer:-"Charlotte would sit and inquire about our circumstances so kindly and feelingly!... Though I am a poor working man (which I never fel