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sweet Isabella grows rapidly, and her mind keeps pace with her stature. She reads and comprehends perfectly. Mr. and Mrs. Fairlie inquired most kindly for you, and said how glad they would be to see you at Cheveley. It is a fine old place, in a large park, with umbrageous old trees, and a beautiful


"Mr. Wordsworth has been printing, but not publishing, eight very noble sonnets for the year 1840, originating in the state of the political world.

"What are you doing besides writing beautiful verses? Something grave, and worthy of you I hope, in no way inferior to your two last great works. I wish that not a single drop of the bright wine of your mind should be wasted, for, like the best, it will run pure to the last. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, Dec. 14th, 1840.

"I sit down to thank you for a few of the most delightful hours imaginable, passed in the perusal of Fra Rupert.' This production abounds in beauties of the highest order; and genius and tenderness, that ought never to be separated, breathe forth in all its pages. How fine is the contrast between the strength of mind and deep feeling of Giovanna, and the weakness and good nature of Marguerite!

"When you visit the region of the blessed (and long may it be before that hour arrives), how many shades will hail with grateful affection that noble author, who has rescued their names from unjust obloquy, and taught posterity to pity and weep for those it would otherwise have blamed! I can well imagine your feelings in the church on reading the names of those once dear to you on the cold tomb. Yes, there is true religion in the heart at such moments, for is not love and sorrow the basis of true religion? I quite agree in your opinion of Colonel Napier. There is a grandeur in his History that charms me, and assures me that those can best chronicle great deeds who are the most capable of performing them. Our sympathies reveal the secrets of our natures, and I am never so satisfied with mine as when I feel a decided preference for what is good and great.

"Count D'Orsay is hunting, and Miss Power is rejoicing in the society of her parents, and sisters, and brothers, a family of seven, who arrived from New Brunswick six weeks ago, en route for Van Diemen's Land. You ought to come and spend the Christmas with me, after so long an absence.


"Gore House, Feb. 6th, 1843.


"Your letter found me in deep affliction, from which it will be long ere I We have lost our darling Isabella, the dear and gifted child, who, though deaf and dumb, possessed more intelligence than thousands who can hear and speak. Attacked about three months ago with a complaint in her chest, I nursed her here, and had hoped for her final recovery, when, on the 4th of January, her poor mother's impatience to have her with her again in

duced me to take her down to Cheveley. A few days after, a relapse ensued, and on the 31st she resigned her pure soul to God. On Saturday last I saw her mortal remains consigned to the tomb, and left that dearly loved form, which I would scarcely let a rude breeze visit, in the cold, dismal, and dark vault. Alas! how soon may it open to receive her poor mother, whose state continues to be most alarming. How fond my darling Isabella was of you. Do you remember her endearing ways, and all her attractions? This blow has fallen heavily on us all, and you, I know, will feel it. My heart is too full to write more, but I could no longer leave your letter unanswered. All here unite in kindest regards to you. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, March 27th, 1843.

"I find by your letter, received this morning, that we were writing to each other at the same time. I am pleased at this proof of our sympathy, and charmed with the Imaginary Conversation, which shall certainly grace and honor the pages of the Book of Beauty.' No man ever could define the feelings and thoughts of woman—that is, the most pure and unsophisticated portion of the sex-as you can. You enter even beyond the vail of that temple (in woman's heart) so seldom penetrated, and her naïveté and tenderness acquire new charms by your translation of them. I always feel this when you make our sex speak, and wonder not that you are so general a favorite with those whose sentiments you so beautifully delineate.

"I must also thank you for the verses, received in a season of so much sorrow that I had no heart to thank you sooner. Yes, I did remember having read them long years ago at Florence, in happier times, and remember all my dear lost husband's admiration of them. My poor niece* lingers on the threshold of eternity, and, like the setting sun, reveals a new brightness as she draws nearer to her departure. Ah! why should those dear to us become still more so when we are about to lose them? We like Colonel Stopford exceedingly, and regret that the affliction which has befallen us has prevented our showing him that attention which any friend of yours will be always sure of finding, and which he so well merits on his own account. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, April 11th, 1843.

"I feel well assured of your sympathy in the heavy affliction that has fallen on me. You knew the admirable creature we have lost,* but you saw her not when bowed down by that most fatal of all maladies; her resignation and sweetness triumphed over its pains. For me, the scene of the last week of her life can never be effaced from my mind. That lovely face, which grew still more fair and heavenly in its expression as her death approached, is ever present to me, and the sweet tones of her voice, uttering words of consolation to those around her dying bed, still ring in my ear. Her strength of mind and heavenly gentleness increased to the last, and rendered her dearer than ever * Mrs. Fairlie.

to us all. Her poor husband is now with us, but returns in a day or two to his now lonely home.

"This is the first letter I have written, except to the bereaved mother, my poor sister, who is broken-hearted.

"You were often and kindly remembered by my dear departed niece, who said to me, 'I am sure Mr. Landor lamented the death of my poor Isabella.' "M. BLESSINGTON."

66 Gore House, August 29th, 1843.

"I have had my dear littel grand-nephews and niece, with their poor father, staying with me. It was, in truth, a sad meeting, and their presence brought with bitterness to my mind the recollection of her who always accompanied them, and whom I shall see no more on earth. Time has not yet reconciled me to her loss, and I feel it as poignantly, that I forget how soon, according to the natural course of events, I shall follow her to the grave. 'She can not come to me, but I shall go to her'. I have a family party of twelve with me at present, consisting of Lord and Lady Canterbury and their family joined to mine. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, November 26th, 1845.

"I felt sure of your sympathy in the heavy affliction with which it has pleased God to visit me. I have made more than one vain attempt to thank you for your letter, which I found here on my return from Clifton, but I could not accomplish the task. You will easily imagine my grief at losing the playmate of my childhood, the companion of my youth.* Alas! alas! of the two heads that once rested on the same pillow, one now is laid in a dark and dreary vault at Clifton, far, far away from all she loved, from all that loved her.

"It seems strange to me that I should still breathe and think, when she who was my other self, so near in blood, so dear in affection, should be no more. I have now no one to remind me of my youth, to speak to me of the careless, happy days of childhood. All seems lost with her, in whose breast I found an echo to my thoughts. The ties of blood may sometimes be severed, but how easily, how quickly are they reunited again when the affection of youthful days is recalled.

"All that affection has, as it were, sprung up afresh in my heart since my poor sister has known affliction. And now she is snatched from me when I hoped to soothe her; and all that now remains to me of her is memory, a tress of her hair, and the sad recollection of a dark, dreary vault at Clifton, which no sunbeam can illumine, no breath of summer's air ever enter!

"Adieu, my dear friend. May Heaven long keep you from seeing any one dear to you die. Every affliction is less heavy than that.

"M. BLESSINGTON." *Lady Canterbury died in November, 1845.-R. R. M.

"Gore House, Tuesday, June 9th, 1846. "I can not allow another day to pass over without thanking you for the delight afforded me by the perusal of the two glorious volumes given to me the day before your departure. What a rich gift! Although well acquainted with the Imaginary Conversations,' a reperusal of them has revealed new beauties. Indeed, every page of both volumes contains thoughts as profound and beautiful as they are original. What a mine this great work will be henceforth for plagiarists to crib and steal from !

"How beautiful is the region of wisdom and tenderness revealed in it! I can not tell you the gratification I have enjoyed, and shall continue to enjoy, from these precious volumes. Continue to write. It is a duty you owe to your name to posterity. There are no lees in the rich wine of your imagination, which will flow on pure, bright, and sparkling to the last, and not one drop of it should be lost.

"I believe I told you that this will be the last year of the 'Keepsake' or 'Book of Beauty' appearing. You will not, I am sure, desert me at the close, but let me have a contribution, however short, to wind up both volumes. How much I regret that you could not prolong your stay with us. Your visit appears like a pleasant dream, too brief, yet leaving a pleasant memory. "M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, February 28th, 1848.

"I will not admit that the eruption of the Parisian volcano has brought out only cinders from your brain: au contraire, the lava is glowing and full of fire-your honest indignation has been ignited, and has sent forth a bright flame.

"It gave me pleasure to see your hand-writing again, for I had thought it long since I had heard from you. I saw it stated to-day, in the Daily News, that Count D'Orsay had set out for Paris with Prince Louis. This report is wholly untrue. Prince Louis has gone to Paris alone. Here no one pities Louis Philippe, nor has the report of his death mitigated the indignation excited against him. His family are to be pitied, for I believe they were not implicated in his crooked policy. Seldom has vengeance so rapidly overtaken guilt. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Gore House, February 10th, 1849.

"The muse who loved thee in thy youth,
With such a fervency and truth,
Forsakes thee not, but fond as fair,
Still joys thy solitude to share,
And blandly has seduced old time,
To let thee write, as in thy prime.
Though seventy-five years may have flown,
The calculation we'll not own,

It must be false, for ne'er did age
Indite so pure and sweet a page,
Inspired by beauty, as I see

Breathe in the verse that comes from thee.
Long may'st thou live, the world to show,
That time can't chill the brilliant glow
Of minds like thine, to whom 'tis given
To keep the flame till they reach Heaven.



"MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,-The children are delighted at your recollection of them. A German tutor is coming to manage A— within a few days; I can hardly bring him to construe a little Greek with me, and, what is worse, he is not always disposed to fence with me. I foresee he will be a worse dancer than I am, if possible; in vain I tell him what is very true, that I have suffered more from my bad dancing than from all the other misfortunes and miseries of my life put together. Not dancing well! I never danced at all, and how grievously has my heart ached when others were in the full enjoyment of that recreation, which I had no right even to partake of.

"Hare has lately bought a Raffael here for four hundred louis. It is a Raffael indeed, but a copy from Pietro Perugino.

"The original is extant, and much finer than the copy. Raffael was but a boy when he painted it; he and his master are the only two painters that ever had a perfect idea of feminine beauty.

Raffael, when he went to Rome, lost Paradise, and had only Eden;' his Fornarina and others are fine women, but not such women as the first that God made, or as the one that he chose to be the idol of half the world. Titian, less fortunate than Lawrence, was rarely employed to paint a beauty; those that he and Corregio chose for models had no grace or loveliness; Leonardo's are akin to ugliness.

** I remain, my dear Lady Blessington, ever yours sincerely,


"Florence, July 16th, 1853.

"Politics seem to be serious and alarming to the serious and ambitious. I hate Tory principles and Whig principles; but I never gave any opinion, except on one occasion, which was when the Reform Bill was in agitation. I then wrote from this villa to Lord L, telling him what it was very plain his party did not know, that the king has just as good a right to give repre

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