and scarcely ever in her life crossed her lines, after the approved fashion among lady letter-writers; but, of brief epistles, few people wrote so many. The reason was, that the merest act of courtesy, or an ordinary civility, which others would receive almost as a thing of course, or for which their gratitude might well admit of being reserved for a chance meeting, was sure to produce from her a note of acknowledgment, magnifying it into a marvellous kindness; and this would probably be followed by one or two excuses for writing, each repaying the slightest of obligations by such favours as only the kindliest of natures could bestow, or such anxiety to do so, as only such a nature as hers could feel.

These remarks will, perhaps, render it unnecessary to apologize for the introduction of the following fragments from notes to Mrs. Hall:—

"I hope you mean to be a pattern of propriety, keep within doors, and look upon Sloane-street as if it were the avenue to the castle of the east wind. As for myself, I have no more breath than an apple, on which a philosopher has been trying experiments, by putting it in his pump and extracting the air. I liked your story in the 'Edinburgh Magazine' much. I must say though, in the present state of the country, a premium ought to be given to those who patriotically remain single."—

"It is quite terrible to think how a person's principles may be undermined. What with your cottage and this cottage, I am in dreadful danger of being taken romantic, and of talking about rural felicity—unsophisticated feeling, and the beauties of nature, and those vain prejudices which I have hitherto so entirely abjured . . I enjoyed all the delights of the country in the most resolute manner, for I got ankle-deep in mud yesterday in the wood