seem to her admirers in America a sufficient payment for the hazards of crossing the Atlantic. Her conversation like her writings is varied, vivacious, and delightful. Her kind feelings toward our country are well known, and her forgetfulness of self, and happiness in making others happy, are marked traits in her character. Her person is small, and delicately proportioned, and her movements full of animation. She has an aversion to having her likeness taken, which no entreaties of her friends have been able to overcome. In one of her notes, she says, "I have always refused even my own family to sit for my portrait, and with my own good will shall never have it painted, as I do not think it would give either my friends or the public any representation or expression of my mind, such as I trust may be more truly found in my writings." The ill-health of a lovely sister much younger than herself, at whose house in London she was passing the winter, called forth such deep anxiety, untiring attention, and fervent gratitude for every favorable symptom, as seemed to blend features of maternal tenderness with sisterly affection. It is always gratifying to find that those, whose superior intellect charms and enlightens us, have their hearts in the right place. Such instances often delighted me while abroad, in the varied and beautiful forms of domestic love and duty. The example of filial devotion exhibited by Miss Mitford adds lustre and grace to the rich imagery of her pages. An aged father, of whom she is the
