another. At an unusually early age she manifested the genius for which she afterward became so deservedly popular. On leaving school, her uncle placed her under the protection of her grandmother, whose exigence rendered the life of her gifted grandchild any thing but a happy one. Her first practical effusions were published many years ago, and the whole of the sum they produced was appropriated to her grandmother.

"Soon after, L. E. L. became acquainted with Mr. [ ], who, charme with her talents, encouraged their exertion by inserting her poems in a lite rary journal, with all the encomiums they merited. This drew the attentio of publishers on her, and, alas! drew also the calumny and hatred of the e vious, which ceased not to persecute her through her troubled life, but abs lutely drove her from her native land. There was no slander too vile, and assertion too wicked, to heap on the fame of this injured creature.

1

[ ], a married man, and the father of a large family, many of whom w older than L. E. L., was said to have been her lover, and it was publ stated that she had become too intimately connected with him. Those disbelieved the calumny refrained not from repeating it, until it became a eral topic of conversation. Her own sex, fearful of censure, had not cou to defend her; and this highly-gifted and sensitive creature, without ha committed a single error, found herself a victim to slander. More than advantageous proposal of marriage was made to her; but no sooner was known than anonymous letters were sent to the persons who wished to her, filled with charges against her honor. Some of her suitors, wholly crediting these calumnies, but thinking it due to her to refute them, in ted inquiries to trace them to the original source whence they came; single proof could be had of even the semblance of guilt, though a tho were furnished of perfect innocence. Wounded and humiliated, poor L. refused to wed those who could, however worthy the motive, seem to her honor, or instigate inquiry into her conduct; and from year to dragged on a life of mortification and sorrow. Pride led her to conceal she suffered, but those who best knew her were aware that for many me sleep could only be obtained by the aid of narcotics, and that violent s and frequent attacks of the nerves left her seldom free from acute suff The effort to force a gayety she was far from feeling increased her suffe even to the last. The first use she made of the money produced by her ings was to buy an annuity for her grandmother—that grandmother acerbity of temper and wearying exigeance had embittered her home. then went to reside in Hans Place with some elderly ladies who k school, and here again calumny assailed her. Dr. M, a married and father of grown daughters, was now named as her paramour; and th his habits, age, appearance, and attachment to his wife ought to have cluded the possibility of attaching credence to so absurd a piece of sca poor L. E. L. was again attacked in a manner that nearly sent her to grave. This last falsehood was invented a little more than four years

AGNE, BY L. E. L.

the South

rose, stooping, sweet mouth, sweetness drooping, y spring.

ul rings descending, wing,

sunshine blending. is thine;

sand fancies; divine,

another. At an unusually early age she manifested the genius for which she afterward became so deservedly popular. On leaving school, her uncle placed her under the protection of her grandmother, whose exigence rendered the life of her gifted grandchild any thing but a happy one. Her first practical effusions were published many years ago, and the whole of the sum they produced was appropriated to her grandmother.

"Soon after, L. E. L. became acquainted with Mr. [ ], who, charmed with her talents, encouraged their exertion by inserting her poems in a literary journal, with all the encomiums they merited. This drew the attention of publishers on her, and, alas! drew also the calumny and hatred of the envious, which ceased not to persecute her through her troubled life, but absolutely drove her from her native land. There was no slander too vile, and no assertion too wicked, to heap on the fame of this injured creature. Mr. [ ], a married man, and the father of a large family, many of whom were older than L. E. L., was said to have been her lover, and it was publicly stated that she had become too intimately connected with him. Those who disbelieved the calumny refrained not from repeating it, until it became a general topic of conversation. Her own sex, fearful of censure, had not courage to defend her; and this highly-gifted and sensitive creature, without having committed a single error, found herself a victim to slander. More than one advantageous proposal of marriage was made to her; but no sooner was this known than anonymous letters were sent to the persons who wished to wed her, filled with charges against her honor. Some of her suitors, wholly discrediting these calumnies, but thinking it due to her to refute them, instigated inquiries to trace them to the original source whence they came; not a single proof could be had of even the semblance of guilt, though a thousand were furnished of perfect innocence. Wounded and humiliated, poor L. E. L. refused to wed those who could, however worthy the motive, seem to doubt her honor, or instigate inquiry into her conduct; and from year to year, dragged on a life of mortification and sorrow. Pride led her to conceal what she suffered, but those who best knew her were aware that for many months sleep could only be obtained by the aid of narcotics, and that violent spasms and frequent attacks of the nerves left her seldom free from acute suffering. The effort to force a gayety she was far from feeling increased her sufferings even to the last. The first use she made of the money produced by her writings was to buy an annuity for her grandmother-that grandmother whose acerbity of temper and wearying exigeance had embittered her home. She then went to reside in Hans Place with some elderly ladies who kept a school, and here again calumny assailed her. Dr. M, a married man, and father of grown daughters, was now named as her paramour; and though his habits, age, appearance, and attachment to his wife ought to have precluded the possibility of attaching credence to so absurd a piece of scandal, poor L. E. L. was again attacked in a manner that nearly sent her to the grave. This last falsehood was invented a little more than four years ago,

when some of those who disbelieved the other scandal affected to give credit to this, and stung the sensitive mind of poor L. E. L. almost to madness by their hypocritical conduct. About this time Mr. Maclean became acquainted with her, and after some months proposed for her hand. Wrung to the quick by the slanders heaped on her, she accepted his offer; but he deemed it neccessary to return to Cape Coast Castle for a year before the nuptials could be solemnized. He returned at the expiration of that term, renewed his offer, and she, poor, dear soul! informed all her friends-and me among the number of her acceptance of it, and of her intention of soon leaving England with him; soon after this Mr. Maclean went to Scotland, and remained there many months without writing a single line to his betrothed. Her feelings under this treatment you can well imagine. Beset by inquiries from all her friends as to where Mr. Maclean was, when she was to be married, &c., &c., all indicating a strong suspicion that he had heard the reports and would appear no more, a serious illness assailed her, and reduced her to the brink of the grave, when her [ ] wrote and demanded an explanation from him. "He answered that, fearing the climate of Africa might prove fatal to her, he had abandoned the intention of marrying, and felt embarrassed at writing to say so.

66

She, poor soul! mistook his hesitation and silence for generosity, and wrote to him a letter fraught with affection; the ill-starred union was again proposed, but on condition that it should be kept a secret even from the friends she was residing with. From the moment of his return from Scotland to that of their departure, he was moody, mysterious, and ill-humored, continually sneering at literary ladies, speaking slightingly of her works, and, in short, showing every symptom of a desire to disgust her. Sir [ ] remonstrated with her on his extraordinary mode of proceeding; so did all her friends; but the die was cast. Her pride shrunk from the notion of again having it said that another marriage was broken off, and she determined not to break with him. Mystery on mystery followed; no friend or relative of his though an uncle and aunt were in London-sanctioned the marriage; nay, more, it is now known that, two days previous to it, he, on being questioned by his uncle, denied positively the fact of his intention to be married. The marriage was a secret one, and not avowed until a very few days previous to their sailing for Africa; he refused to permit her own maid, who had long served her, to accompany her, and it was only at the eleventh hour that he could be induced to permit a strange servant to be her attendant. His conduct on board ship was cold and moody, for her broken-hearted [ ], whom I have seen, told me that the captain of the ship said that Mr. Maclean betrayed the utmost indifference toward her. This indifference continued at Cape Castle, and, what was worse, discontent, ill humor, and reproaches at her ignorance of housekeeping met her every day, until, as she writes to her [ ], her nerves became so agitated that the sound of his voice made her tremble. She was required to do the work of a menial; her female servant

66

was discharged, and was to sail the day that the hapless L. E. L. died. She has come to England. L. E. L. thus writes to her [ ]: 'There are eleven or twelve chambers here empty, I am told, yet Mr. Maclean refuses to let me have one of them for my use, nor will he permit me to enter the bedroom from the hour I leave it, seven in the morning, until he quits it, at one in the afternoon. He expects me to cook, wash, and iron; in short, to do the work of a servant. I never see him until seven in the evening, when he comes to dinner; and when that is over, he plays the violin until ten o'clock, when I go to bed. He says he will never cease correcting me until he has broken my spirit, and complains of my temper, which you know was never, even under heavy trials, bad.'

] ever received. Judge, then, of his

"This was the last account Mr. [ wretchedness.

"It is now known that Mr. Maclean had formed a liaison at Cape Castle with a woman of that country, by whom he has a large family; such liaisons are not considered disreputable there, and the women are treated as wives. This person lived in the castle as its mistress until the arrival of Mr. Maclean and poor L. E. L., when she was sent off up the country. This woman was the niece of one of the merchants who sat on the inquest. All the servants, with the exception of the man and his wife brought out by L. E. L., were the creatures of the former mistress; the whole of the female natives detest English women, because the presence of one there banishes them from the society where they are tolerated in their absence.

Mr. Maclean admits that indisposition and mental annoyance must have rendered him far from being a kind or agreeable companion to poor Letitia; but adds that, had she lived a little longer, she would have found him very different, as he was, when not ill and tormented by various circumstances, which he does not explain, easy and good-tempered to a fault. He says that never was there so faultless a being upon earth as that poor, poor girl, as he calls her, and that he never knew her value until he had lost her. In fact, his letter seems an answer to charges preferred against him by the departed, and, what is strange, the packet that brought the fatal news brought no letter of recent date for her [ ], though she never missed an opportunity, and they occur rarely, of writing to him. Her letters, all of which have breathed the fondest affection for him, admit that she had little hope of happiness from her stern, cold, and morose husband. I have now, my dear madam, given you this sad tale. I have perused all her letters to her [ ], as well as Mr. Maclean's to him. I ought to add that, when they landed in Africa, Mr. Maclean set off, leaving his wife, and proceeded to the castle to dislodge his mistress and children. The natives were angry and offended at seeing their countrywoman driven from her home. Believe me, my dear madam, your ladyship's very sincerely M. BLESSINGTON

"To Lady W——.

"Let me have a line to say you have got this voluminous packet."