that spell of mind on mind, which, once formed, can never
be broken. I felt, too, that my whole nature was understood and
appreciated by her; and this is a sort of happiness which I consider
the most rare in earthly affection."

Mary Mitford and Mrs. Browning were blessed with a friendship
enviably full and satisfying. It has recorded itself in a
correspondence, which, if published, would add fresh honor to them
both in the hearts of their admirers. It was likewise celebrated with
happy heartiness by Miss Barrett, in her maiden days, in her fine
poem, "To Flush, my Dog;" the dog, Flush, being a valued gift from
Miss Mitford.

Margaret Fuller, after seeing an engraving of Madame Recamier, writes
in her journal,

"I have so often thought over the intimacy between her and Madame de
Stael. It is so true, that a woman may be in love with a woman, and a
man with a man. I like to be sure of it; for it is the same love
which angels feel, where Sie fragen nicht nach Mann und Weib."

Of the friendships of women, perhaps none is more historic than this.
A large selection from the correspondence was published, in 1862, by
Madame Lenormant, in connection with a volume called "Madame de Stael
and the Grand Duchess Louise." It is impossible to read these
letters, without being struck by the rare grace that reigned in the
union of which they are the witnesses, and being affected by the
sight of a friendship so faithful, a confidence so entire.

The first meeting of these celebrated women took place when Madame de
Stael was thirty-two years old; Madame Recamier, twenty-one. Among
the few existing papers from the pen of the latter is a description
of this interview:

"She came to speak with me for her father, about the purchase of a
house. Her toilet was odd. She wore a morning gown, and a little
dress bonnet, adorned with flowers. I took her for a stranger in
Paris. I was struck with the beauty of her eyes and her look. She
said, with a vivid and impressive grace, that she was delighted to
know me; that her father, M. Necker at these words I recognized
Madame de Stael. I heard not the rest of her sentence. I blushed, my
embarrassment was extreme. I had just come from reading her 'Letters
on Rousseau,' and was full of the excitement. I expressed what I felt
more by my looks than by my words. She at the same time awed and drew
me. She fixed her wonderful eyes on me, with a curiosity full of
kindness, and complimented me on my fig