ehension of its
needs, or of its present beauty, or of its great promise; when
it would lay before it all the flowers of hope and love, would
soothe its weariness as gently as might the sweet south, and
_flatter_ it by as fond an outbreak of pride and devotion
as is seen on the sunset clouds. Thou knowest whether
these promptings, whether these longings, be not truer than
intellectual scrutiny of the details of character; than cold
distrust of the exaggerations even of heart. What we hope,
what we think of those we love, is true, true as the fondest
dream of love and friendship that ever shone upon the childish
heart.

'The faithful shall yet meet a full-eyed love, ready as
profound, that never needs turn the key on its retirement, or
arrest the stammering of an overweening trust.'

* * * * *

TO ----

'I wish I could write you often, to bring before you the
varied world-scene you cannot so well go out to unfold for
yourself. But it was never permitted me, even where I wished
it most. But the forest leaves fall unseen, and make a soil on
which shall be reared the growths and fabrics of a nobler era.
This thought rounds off each day. Your letter was a little
golden key to a whole volume of thoughts and feelings. I
cannot make the one bright drop, like champagne in ice,
but must pour a full gush, if I speak at all, and not think
whether the water is clear either.'

With this great heart, and these attractions, it was easy to add daily
to the number of her friends. With her practical talent, her counsel
and energy, she was pretty sure to find clients and sufferers enough,
who wished to be guided and supported. 'Others,' she said, 'lean on
this arm, which I have found so frail. Perhaps it is strong enough to
have drawn a sword, but no better suited to be used as a _bolt_, than
that of Lady Catharine Douglas, of loyal memory.' She could not make a
journey, or go to an evening party, without meeting a new person, who
wished presently to impart his history to her. Very early, she had
written to ----, 'My museum is so well furnished, that I grow lazy
about collecting new specimens of human nature.' She had soon enough
examples of the historic development of rude intellect under the first
rays of culture. But, in a thousand individuals, the process is much
the same; and, like a professor too