olent feeling; and
accordingly, in all her intercourse with children, it was kindness and
sympathy alone that prompted her conduct. Sympathy, when it mounts to a
certain height, inevitably begets affection in the person towards whom
it is exercised; and I have heard her say, that she never was concerned
in the education of one child, who was not personally attached to her,
and earnestly concerned, not to incur her displeasure. Another eminent
advantage she possessed in the business of education, was that she was
little troubled with scepticism and uncertainty. She saw, as it were by
intuition, the path which her mind determined to pursue, and had a firm
confidence in her own power to effect what she desired. Yet, with all
this, she had scarcely a tincture of obstinacy. She carefully watched
symptoms as they rose, and the success of her experiments; and governed
herself accordingly. While I thus enumerate her more than maternal
qualities, it is impossible not to feel a pang at the recollection of
her orphan children!

Though her friends earnestly dissuaded her from the journey to Lisbon,
she found among them a willingness facilitate the execution of her
project, when it was once fixed. Mrs. Burgh in particular, supplied her
with money, which however she always conceived came from Dr. Price. This
loan, I have reason to believe, was faithfully repaid.

It was during her residence at Newington Green, that she was introduced
to the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson, who was at that time considered as
in some sort the father of English literature. The doctor treated her
with particular kindness and attention, had a long conversation with
her, and desired her to repeat her visit often. This she firmly purposed
to do; but the news of his last illness, and then of his death,
intervened to prevent her making a second visit.

Her residence in Lisbon was not long. She arrived but a short time
before her friend was prematurely delivered, and the event was fatal to
both mother and child. Frances Blood, hitherto the chosen object of
Mary's attachment, died on the twenty-ninth of November 1785.

It is thus that she speaks of her in her Letters from Norway, written
ten years after her decease. "When a warm heart has received strong
impressions, they are not to be effaced. Emotions become sentiments; and
the imagination renders even transient sensations permanent, by fondly
retracing them. I cannot, without a thrill of delight, recollect vi