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 long pent in his college,
she rejoiced in encountering persons of untutored grace
and strength, and felt no wish to prolong the intercourse
when culture began to have its effect. I find in her
journal a characteristic note, on receiving a letter on
books and speculations, from one whom she had valued
for his heroic qualities in a life of adventure: —
‘These letters of —— are beautiful, and moved me
