Sante Croce, in Florence.

* * * * *

I had a severe attack of what appeared to be cholera, and during my
recovery Mrs. Hankey very kindly lent us her villa at Hampstead for a
few weeks. There I went with my children, Somerville with some friends
always coming to dinner on the Sundays. On one of these occasions there
was a violent thunderstorm, and a large tree was struck not far from the
house. We all went to look at the tree as soon as the storm ceased, and
found that a large mass of wood was scooped out of the trunk from top to
bottom. I had occasion in two other instances to notice the same effect.
Dr. Wollaston lent me a sextant and artificial horizon; so I amused
myself taking the altitude of the sun, the consequence of which was that
I became as brown as a mulatto, but I was too anxious to learn something
of practical astronomy to care about the matter.

CHAPTER X.

DEATH OF MARGARET SOMERVILLE--LETTER FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO THE REV.
DR. SOMERVILLE--LIFE AT CHELSEA--THE NAPIERS--MARIA EDGEWORTH--TOUR IN
GERMANY.

Our happy and cheerful life in Hanover Square came to a sad end. The
illness and death of our eldest girl threw Somerville and me into the
deepest affliction. She was a child of intelligence and acquirements far
beyond her tender age.

[The long illness and death of this young girl fell very heavily on
my mother, who by this time had lost several children. The following
letter was written by her to my grandfather on this occasion. It
shows her steadfast faith in the mercy and goodness of God, even
when crushed by almost the severest affliction which can wring a
mother's heart:--]

MRS. SOMERVILLE TO THE REV. DR. SOMERVILLE.

LONDON, _October_, 1823.

MY DEAR FATHER,

I never was so long of writing to you, but when the heart is
breaking it is impossible to find words adequate to its relief. We
are in deep affliction, for though the first violence of grief has
subsided, there has succeeded a calm sorrow not less painful, a
feeling of hopelessness in this world which only finds comfort in
the prospect of another, which longs for the consummation of all
things that we may join those who have gone before. To return to the
duties of life is irksome, even to those duties which were a delight
when the candle of the Lord shone upon us. I do not arraign the
decrees of Providence, but even in the