aith to the will of the Almighty--"biding her
time."

[Illustration: JANE PORTER'S COTTAGE AT ESHER.]

How differently would she have "watched and waited" had she been tainted
by vanity, or fixed her soul on the mere triumphs of "literary
reputation." While firm to her own creed, she fully enjoyed the success
of those who scramble up--where she bore the standard to the heights--of
Parnassus; she was never more happy than when introducing some literary
"Tyro" to those who could aid or advise a future career. We can speak
from experience of the warm interest she took in the Hospital for the
cure of Consumption, and the Governesses' Benevolent Institution; during
the progress of the latter, her health was painfully feeble, yet she
used personal influence for its success, and worked with her own hands
for its bazaars. She was ever aiding those who could not aid themselves;
and all her thoughts, words, and deeds, were evidence of her clear,
powerful mind, and kindly loving heart; her appearance in the London
_coteries_ was always hailed with interest and pleasure; to the young
she was especially affectionate; but it was in the quiet mornings, or in
the long twilight evenings of summer, when visiting her cherished
friends at Shirley Park, in Kensington-square, or wherever she might be
located for the time--it was then that her former spirit revived and she
poured forth anecdote and illustration, and the store of many years'
observation, filtered by experience and purified by that delightful
faith to which she held--that "all things work together for good to them
that love the Lord." She held this in practice, even more than in
theory: you saw her chastened yet hopeful spirit beaming forth from her
gentle eyes, and her sweet smile can never be forgotten. The last time
we saw her, was about two years ago--in Bristol--at her brother, Dr.
Porter's house in Portland-square: then she could hardly stand without
assistance, yet she never complained of her own suffering or
feebleness--all her anxiety was about the brother--then dangerously ill,
and now the last of "his race." Major Porter, it will be remembered,
left five children, and these have left only one descendant--the
daughter of Sir Robert Ker Porter and the Russian Princess whom he
married, a young Russian lady, whose present name we do not even know.

We did not think at our last leave-taking that Miss Porter's fragile
frame could have so long withstood the Power that tak