my gentlemen to admit that they were only Mr. A. or Colonel B."
Like all truly great artists, she drew types, not individuals; and her writings, therefore, remain true to life, because types endure when individuals have long passed away. If she had not had "the divine spark" in herself, she would never have written at all, for she was not forced into doing so by Dr. Johnson's great prescription—poverty; and she was too happy and contented in her home to write as a relief from a dull life. She wrote because she could not help it—full of hope that what was such a pleasure to her would some day cause as much pleasure to others; it is only a pity that she did not live to know all the enjoyment she would give to readers in number far beyond what she ever dreamt of.
