Philip Gilbert Hamerton; an autobiography, 1834-1858, and a memoir by his wife, 1858-1894 ..

Front matter

"EF

CAUTION

Do not MTite in this book or mark it with pen or pencil. Penalties are imposed by the Revised Laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Chapter 208, Section 83.

Chapter I. Page

My reasons for writing an Autobiography. — That a man knows the history of his own life better than a biographer can know it. — Frankness and reserve. — The contemplation of death .... 1

CHAPTER 11.

My birthplace. — My father and mother. — Circumstances of their marriage. — Their short married life. — Birth of their child. — Death of my mother. — Her character and habits. — My father as a widower. — Dulness of his life. — Its degradation 4

CHAPTER ni.

1835-1841.

My childhood is passed at Burnley with my aunts. — My grandfather and grandmother. — Estrangement between Gilbert Hamerton and his brother of Hellifield Peel. — Death of Gilbert Hamerton. — His taste for the Erench language. — His travels in Portugal, and the conduct of a steward during his absence. — His three sons. — Aristocratic tendencies of his daughters. — Beginning of my education. — Visits to my father 14

CHAPTER IV.

A tour in Wales in 1842. — Extracts from my Journal of this tour. — My inborn love for beautiful materials. — Stay at Rhyl. — Anglesea and Caernarvon. — Reasons for specially remembering this tour 21

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER V.

1843-1844.

PAOB

A painful chapter to write. — My father calls me home. — What kind of a house it was. — ratenial education and discipline. — My life at that time one of duluess varied by dread 26

CHAPTER VI.

My extreme loneliness. — Thoughts of flight. — My father's last illness and death. — Circumstances of my last interview with him. — His funeral 3-3

CHAPTER VII.

Dislike to Shaw in consequence of the dreadful life I lead there with my father. — My guardian. — Her plan for my education. — Doncaster School. — Mr. Cape and his usher. — The usher's intolerance of Dissenters. — My feeling for architecture and music. — The drawing-master. — My guardian insists on my learning French. — Our French master, Sig. Testa. — A painful incident. — I begin to learn the violin . — Dancing. — My aversion to cricket. — Early readings. — Love of Scott. — My first library. — Classical studies 39

CHAPTER VIII.

Early attempts in English verse. — Advantages of life at Doncaster. — A school incident. — Fagging. — Story of a dog. — Robbery. — My school-fellow Henry Alexander. — His remarkable influence. — Other school-fellows. — Story of a boat. — A swimming adventure. — Our walks and battles 51

CHAPTER IX.

Early interest in theology. — Reports of sermons. — Quiet influence of Mr. Cape. — Failure of Mr. Cape's health. — His death . . 61

CONTENTS. ix

CHAPTER X.

1847-1849.

PAGE

My education becomes less satisfactory. — My guardian's state of health. — I pursue my studies at Burnley. — Dr. Butler. — He encourages me to write English. — Extract from a prize poem. — Public discussions in Burnley School. — A debate on Queen Elizabeth 64

CHAPTER XI. 1850.

My elder uncle. — We go to live at HoUins. — Description of the place.

— My strong attachment to it. — My first experiment in art-criticism. — The stream at HoUins. — My first catamaran. — Similarity of my life at HoUins to my life in Erance thirty-six years later 70

CHAPTER XII. 1850.

Interest in the Middle Ages. — Indifference to the Greeks and Romans.

— Love for Sir Walter Scott's writings. — Interest in heraldry and illuminations. — Passion for hawking. — Old books in the school library at Burnley. — Mr. Edward Alexander of Halifax.

— Attempts in literary composition. — Contributions to the " Historic Times." — " Rome in 1849." — " Observations on Heraldry" 75

CHAPTER Xm.

Political and religious opinions of my relations. — The Rev. James Bardsley. — Protestant controversy with Rome. — German neology.

— The inspiration of the Scriptures. — Inquiry into foundation for the doctrine. — I cease to be a Protestant. — An alternative presents itself. — A provisional condition of prolonged inquiry. — Our medical adviser. — His remarkable character. — His opinions 80

CHAPTER XIV.

First visit to London in 1851. — My first impression of the place. — Nostalgia of the country. — Westminster. — The Royal Academy.

— Resolution never to goto London again. — Reason why this resolution was afterwards broken 88

X CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XV.

1851-1852.

PAGE

The love of reading a hindrance to classical studies. — Dr. Butler becomes anxious al)out my success at Oxford. — An insuperable obstacle. — My indifference to degrees. — Irksome hypocrisy. — I am nearly sent to a tutor at Brighton. — I go to a tutor in Yorkshire. — His disagreeable disposition. — Incident about riding. — Disastrous effect of my tutor's intellectual influence upon me. — My private reading. — My tutor's ignorance of modern authors. — His ignorance of the fine arts. — His religious intolerance. — I declare my inability to sign the Thirty-nine Articles .... 91

CHAPTER XVI.

Choice of a profession. — Love of literature and art. — Decision to make trial of both. — An equestrian tour. — Windermere. — Derwentwater. — I take lessons from Mr. J. P. Pettitt. — UUeswater.

— My horse turf. — Greenock, a discovery. — My unsettled cousin.

— Glasgow. — Loch Lomond. — InA^erary. — Loch Awe. — Inishail. — Innistrynich. — Oban. — A sailing excursion. — Mull and Ulva. — Solitary reading 100

CHAPTER XVIL

18.53.

A journal. — Self -training. — Attempts in periodical literature. — The time given to versification well spent. — Practical studies in art. — Beginning of Mr. Ruskin's influence. — Difficulty in finding a master in landscape-painting. — Establishment of the militia. — I accept a commission. — Our first training. — Our colonel and our adjutant. —The Grand Llama. — Paying off the men . . . .113

CHAPTER XVIII.

A project for studying in Paris. — Reading. — A healthy life.— ' Quinsy. — My most intimate friend 121

CHAPTER XIX.

London again. — Accurate habits in employment of time. — Studies with Mr. Pettitt. — Some account of my new master. — His method of technical teaching. — Simplicity of his philosophy of art. — Incidents of his life. — Rapid progress under Pettitt's direction . 124

CONTENTS. ad

PAGE

Acquaintance with E. W. Mackay. — His learning and accomplishments. — His principal pursuit. — His qualities as a writer. — Value of the artistic element in literature. — C. E. Leslie, E. A.

— Eobinson, the line-engraver. — The Constable family. — Mistaken admiration for minute detail. — Projected journey to Egypt.

— Mr. Euskin. — Bonomi. — Samuel Sharpe. — Tennyson . . 131

CHAPTEE XXI.

A Visit to Eogers. — His Home. — Geniality in poets. — Talfourd. — Sir Walter Scott. — Leslie's picture, " The Eape of the Lock." — George Leslie. — Eobert Leslie. — His nautical instincts. — Watkiss Lloyd. — Landseer. — Harding. — Eichard Doyle . . . 138

CHAPTEE XXII.

Miss Marian Evans. — John Chapman, the publisher. — My friend William Shaw. — His brother Eichard. — Mead, the tragedian. — Mrs. Eowan and her daughter. — A vexatious incident. — I suffer from nostalgia for the country 146

CHAPTEE XXm.

Some of my relations emigrate to New Zealand. — Difficulties of a poor gentleman. — My uncle's reasons for emigration. — His departure.— Eamily separations. — Our love for Hollins . . .152

CHAPTEE XXIV.

Eesignation of commission in the militia. — Work from nature. — Spenser, the poet. — Hurstwood. — Loch Awe revisited. — A customer. — I determine to learn French well. — A tour in Wales. — Swimming. — Coolness on account of my religious beliefs. — My guardian. — Evil effects of religious bigotry. — Eefuge in work. — My drawing-master. — Our excursion in Craven 157 xii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXV.

Tublication of " The Isles of Loch Awe and other Poems." — Their sale. — Advice to poetic aspirants. — Mistake iu illustrating my book of verse. — Its subsequent history. — Want of art in the book. — Too mucli reality. — Abandonment of verse. — A critic in " Fraser." — Visit to Paris in 1855. — Captain TurnbuU. — Ball at the Hotel de Ville. — Louis Napoleon and Victor Emmanuel . 164

CHAPTER XXVL

Thackeray's family in Paris. — Madame Mohl. — Her husband's encouraging theory about learning languages. — Mr. Scholey. — His friend, William Wyld. — An Indian in Europe. — An Italian adventuress. — Important meeting with an American. — Its consequences. — I go to a French hotel. — People at the table d'hote. — M.Victor Ouvrard. — His claim on the Emperor. — M. Gindriez. — His family. — His eldest daughter 170

CHAPTER XXVn.

Specialities in painting. — Wyld's practice. — Projected voyage on the Loire. — Birth of the Prince Imperial. — Scepticism about his inheritance of the crown. — The Imperial family. — I return home. — Value of the French language to me 181

CHAPTER XXVin.

My first encampment in Lancashire. — Value of encamping as a part of educational discipline. — Happy days in camp. — The natural and the artificial in landscape. — Sir James Kay Shuttleworth's Exhibition project. — I decline to take an active part in it. — His energetic and laborious disposition. — Charlotte Bronte. — General Scarlett 184

CHAPTER XXIX.

I visit the homes of my forefathers at Hamerton, Wigglesworth, and Hellifield Peel. — Attainder and execution of Sir Stephen Hamerton.— Return of Hellifield Peel to the family. — Sir Richard. —

CONTENTS. xiii

PAGE

The Hamertons distinguished only for marrying heiresses. — Another visit to the Peel, when I see my father's cousin. — Nearness of Hellifield Peel and Hollins 190

CHAPTER XXX.

Expedition to the Highlands in 1857. ^Kindness of the Marquis of Breadalbane and others. — Camp life, its strong and peculiar attraction. — My servant. — Young Helliwell. — Scant supplies in the camp. — Nature of the camp. — Necessity for wooden floors in a bad climate. — Double-hulled boats. — Practice of landscape-painting. — Changes of effect. — Influences that governed my way of study in those days. — Attractive character of the Scottish Highlands. — Their scenery not well adapted for beginners. — My intense love of it 195

CHAPTER XXXI.

1857-1858.

Small immediate results of the expedition to the Highlands. — Unsuitable system of work. — Loss of time. — I rent the house and island of Innistrynich. — My dread of marriage and the reasons for it. — Notwithstanding this I make an offer and am refused. — Two young ladies of my acquaintance. — Idea of a foreign marriage. — Its inconveniences. — Decision to ask for the hand of Mdlle. Gindriez. — I go to Paris and am accepted. — Elective affinities 202

CHAPTER XXXII.

Reception at home after engagement. — Preparations at Innistrynich. — I arrive alone in Paris. — My marriage. — The religious ceremony. — An uncomfortable wedding. — The sea from Dieppe. — London. — The Academy Exhibition of 1858. — Impressions of a Erenchwoman. — The Turner collection. — The town. — Loch Awe. — The element wanting to happiness 210 xiv CONTENTS.

MEMOIR.

CHAPTEK I.

PAOE

My first sight of Loch Awe. — Arrival at Innistrynich. — Our domestic life. — Difficulties about provisions. — A kitchen-garden . . .219

Chapter II

Money matters. — Difficulties about servants. — Expensiveness of our mode of life 229

CHAPTEE in.

Painting from nature. — Project of an exhibition. — Photography. — Plan of "A Painter's Camp." — Topographic art. — Charm of our life in the Highlands 233

Chapter IV

English and Erench manners — My husband's relatives. — First journey to France after our marriage. — Friends in London. — Miss Susan Hamerton 238

Chapter V

Visits from friends and relatives. — A Frenchman in the Highlands. — Project of buying the island of Innistrynich 247

CONTENTS. XV

PAGE

Financial complications. — Snmmer visitors. — Boats and boating. — Visit to Paris. — W. Wyld. — Project of a farm in France. — Partnership with M. Gindriez 259

Chapter VII. 1861-1863

Effects of the Highland climate. — Farewell to Loch Awe. — Journey to the south of France. — Death of Miss Mary Hamerton. — Settlement at Sens. — Death of M. Gindriez. — Publication of " A Painter's Camp." — Removal to Pre-Charmoy 270

CHAPTER Vni.

1863-1868.

Canoeing on the Unknown River. — Visit of relatives. — Tour in Switzerland. — Experiments in etching. — The " Saturday Review." — Journeys to London. — Plan of " Etching and Etchers." — New friends in London. — Etching exhibited at the Royal Academy. — Serious illness in London. — George Eliot. — Professor Seeley . 287

Chapter IX

Studies of animals. — A strange visitor. — Illness at Amiens. — Resignation of post on the " Saturday Review." — Nervous seizure in railway train. — Mrs. Craik. — Publication of " Etching and Etchers." — Tennyson. — Growing reputation in America . . .323

Chapter X. 1869-1870

" Wenderholme." — The Mont Beuvray. — Botanical studies. — La Tuilerie. — Commencement of " The Portfolio." — The Franco- Prussian "War 344

CHAPTER XL

1870-1872.

Landscape-painting. — Letters of Mr. Peter Graham, R. A. — Incidents of the war-time. — " The Intellectual Life." — " The Etcher's Handbook" ... T ... 364 xvi CONTENTS.

PAGE

Popularity of " The lutellectual Life." — Love of animals. — English visitors. — Techuical notes. — Sir F. Seymour liaden. — Attempts to resume railway travelling 375

CHAPTER XIII.

1876-1877.

" Round my House." — Journey to England after seven years' absence. — Visit to Mr. Samuel Palmer. — Articles for the " Encyclopedia Britanuica." — Death of my sister. — Mr. Appleton . 390

CHAPTER XIV.

1878-1880.

" Marmorne." — Paris International Exhibition. — " Modern Frenchmen." — Candidature for the Watson Gordon Chair of Fine Arts. — The Bishop of Autun. — The " Life of Turner "... 408

CHAPTER XV.

1880-1882.

Third edition of "Etching and Etchers." — Kew. — The " Graphic Arts." — " Human Intercourse " 429

CHAPTER XVL

1882-1884.

"Paris." — Miss Susan Hamerton's death. — Burnley revisited. — Hellifield Peel. — "Landscape" planned. — Voyage to Marseilles 454

CHAPTER XVII.

1884-1888.

" Landscape." — The Autobiography begun. — " Imagination in Landscape Painting." — " The Saone." — " Portfolio Papers "... 481

CHAPTER XVIII.

1888-1890.

"Man in Art " begun. — Family events. -Mr. G. F. Watts. — Mr,

Bodley. — " French and English" 504

CONTENTS. xvii

CHAPTEK XIX.

1890-1891.

PAGE

Decision to live near Paris. — Practice in painting and etching. —

Search for a house. — Clematis 530

CHi^PTER XX.

1891-1894.

Removal to Paris. — Interest in the Bois de Boulogne. — M. Vierge. — " Man in Art." — Contributions to " Scribner's Magazine." — New form of " The Portfolio." — Honorary degree. — Last Journey to London. — Society of Illustrators. — Illness and death . 539

PHILIP GILBEET HAMERTON

1834 — 1858

OF

PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON.

Chapter I

My reasons for writing an autobiography. — That a man knows the history of his own life better than a biographer can know it. — Erankness and reserve. — The contemplation of death.

Mt principal reasons for writing an autobiography are because I am the only person in the world who knows enough about my history to give a truthful account of it, and because I dread the possibility of falling into the hands of some writer who might attempt a biography with inadequate materials. I have already been selected as a subject by two or three biographers with very friendly intentions, but their friendliness did not always ensure accuracy. When the materials are not supplied in abundance, a writer will eke them out with conjectural expressions which he only intends as an amplification, yet which may contain germs of error to be in their turn amplified by some other writer, and made more extensively erroneous.

It has frequently been said that an autobiography must of necessity be an untrue representation of its subject, as no man can judge himself correctly. If it is intended to imply that somebody else, having a much slighter acquaintance with the man whose life is to be narrated, would produce a more truthful book, one may be permitted to doubt the validity of the inference. Thousands of facts are known to a man himself with reference to his career, and a multitude of determinant motives, which are not known even to his most intimate friends, still less to the stranger who so often undertakes the biography. The reader of an autobiography has this additional advantage, that the writer must be unconsciously revealing himself all along, merely by his way of telling things.

With regard to the great question of frankness and reserve, I hold that the reader has a fair claim to hear the truth, as a biography is not avowedly a romance, but at the same time that it is right to maintain a certain reserve. My rule shall be to say nothing that can hurt the living, and the memory of the dead shall be dealt with as tenderly as may be compatible with a truthful account of the influences that have impelled me in one direction or another.

I have all the more kindly feelings towards the dead, that when these pages appear I shall be one of themselves, and therefore unable to defend my own memory as they are unable to defend theirs.

The notion of being a dead man is not entirely displeasing to me. If the dead are defenceless, they have this compensating advantage, that nobody can inflict upon them any sensible injury; and in beginning a book which is not to see the light until I am lying comfortably in my grave, with six feet of earth above me to deaden the noises of the upper world, I feel quite a new kind of security, and write with a more complete freedom from anxiety about the quality of the work than has been usual at the beginning of other manuscripts.

Nevertheless, the clear and steady contemplation of death (I have been looking the grim king in the face for the last hour) may produce a paralyzing effect upon a man by making his life's work seem very small to him. For, whatever we believe about a future state, it is evident that the catastrophe of death must throw each of us instantaneously into the past, from the point of view of the living, and they will see what we have done in a very foreshortened aspect, so that except in a few very rare cases it must look small to them, and ever smaller as time rolls on, and they will probably not think much of it, or remember us long on account of it. And in thinking of ourselves as dead we instinctively adopt the survivor's point of view. Besides which, it is reasonable to suppose that whatever fate may be in store for us, a greater or less degree of posthumous reputation in two or three nations on this planet can have little effect on our future satisfaction; for if we go to heaven, the beatitude of the life there will be so incomparably superior to the pleasures of earthly fame that we shall never think of such vanity again ; and if we go to the place of eternal tortures they will leave us no time to console ourselves with pleasant memories of any kind ; and if death is simply the ending of all sensation, all thought, memory, and consciousness, it will matter nothing to a handful of dust what estimate of the name it once bore may happen to be current amongst the living —

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

Chapter II

My birthplace — My father and mother. — Circumstances of their marriage. — Their short married life. — Birth of tlieir child. — J^eath of my mother. — Her character and hahits. — My father as a widower. — Dulness of his life. — Its degradation.

I WAS born at Laneside near Shaw, which is now a manufacturing town of some importance about two miles from Oldham in Lancashire, and about four miles from Kochdale in the same county.

Laneside is a small estate with some houses and a little cotton-mill upon it, which belonged to my maternal grandfather. The house is of stone, with a roof of stone slate such as is usual in those parts, and it faces the road, from which it is separated by a little enclosure, that may be called a garden if you will. When I was a child, there were two or three poplar trees in that enclosure before the house ; but trees do not prosper there, and now there is probably not one on the whole estate. One end of the house (which is rather long for its height and depth) abuts against the hill, and close behind it is the cotton-mill which my grandfather worked, with no great profit to himself or advantage to his descendants. I have mentioned a road that passes the house; it is steep, narrow, and inconvenient. It leads up to an elevated tract of the most dreary country that can be imagined, but there are one or two fields on the Laneside estate, above the stone-quarry, from which there is a good view in the direction of Rochdale.

I never knew my grandfather Cocker, but have heard that he was a lively and vigorous man, who enjoyed life very heartily in his way. He married a Miss Crompton, who had a little property and was descended from the De Cromptons of Crompton Hall. I am not aware that she had any family pride, but, like most people in that neighborhood, she had a great appreciation of the value of money, and when she was left alone with her daughter, in consequence of Philip Cocker's premature death, she was more inclined to favor wealthy than impecunious suitors.

My father had come to Shaw as a young attorney some time before he asked for Anne Cocker in marriage. He had very little to recommend him except a fine person, great physical strength, and fifteen quarterings. He had a reputation for rather dissolute habits, was a good horseman, an excellent shot, looked very well in a ball-room, and these, I believe, were aU his advantages, save an unhappy faculty for shining in such masculine company as he could find in a Lancashire village in the days of George IV. Money he had none, except what he earned in his profession, at one time rather a good income.

Miss Anne Cocker was a young lady with a will of her own, associated, I have been told (the two characteristics are by no means incompatible), with a very sweet and amiable disposition. At a time when my grandmother still vigorously opposed the match with my father, there happened to be a public charity ball in Shaw, and Miss Cocker showed her intentions in a very decided manner, by declining to dance with several gentlemen until the young lawyer presented himself, when she rose immediately with a very gracious smile, which was observed by all near enough to witness it. This was rather unkind perhaps to the other aspirants, and is, in fact, scarcely defensible, but it was Miss Cocker's way of declaring her intentions publicly. When my father made his offer, he was refused by my grandmother's orders, but received encouragement from her daughter (a tone of voice, or a look, yet more a tear, would be enough for a lover's hope), and counted upon the effects of perseverance. At length, when he and Miss Cocker thought they had waited long enough, they determined to marry without Mrs. Cocker's consent, and the determination was notified to my grandmother in the following very decided terms : —

" Dr. Madam, — You are no doubt well aware of the warm attachment which has long existed betwixt your dear daughter and myself. Upwards of twelve months ago our affections were ininiovaWy fixed upon each other, and I now consider it my duty to inform you that we are fully engaged, and have finally concluded to be married withiu a fortnight of the present time.

" I sincerely trust that all your hostile feelings towards me are entirely worn out, and that you will receive me as the affectionate husband of your beloved daughter, and I with great confidence hope we shall be a happy family and live together with peace and harmony.

" At my request your daughter will have all her property settled upon herself, so that I can have no control over it — thus leaving it impossible that I should waste it. And I trust that by an active attention to my profession I may be enabled not inconsiderably to augment it.

" Be assured, Dear Madam, that your daughter and myself feel no little solicitude for your comfort and happiness, and that we shall at all times be most happy to promote them.

" It is our mutual and most anxious wish that you should not attempt to throw any obstacle in the way of our marriage, as the only tendency it could have under present circumstances would be to lessen the happiness and comfort of our union.

" We trust therefore that your regard for your daughter's happiness will induce you at once to give your full assent to the fulfilment of our engagement, as you would thereby divest our marriage of all that could possibly lessen the happiness we anticipate from it.

" I know that your principal objection to me has been on account of my unsteadiness, and I deeply regret ever having given you cause to raise such an objection ; but I trust my conduct for some time back having been of a very different character, will convince you that I have seen my error. The gayety into which I have fallen may partly be ascribed to the peculiarity of my situation ; having no relations near me, no family ties, no domestic comforts, &c., I may be the more excusable for having kept the company of young men, but I can assure you I have lost all inclination for the practice of such follies as I have once fallen into, and Hook to a steady, sober married life as alone calculated to afford me happiness.

" I will wait upon you on Monday with most anxious hopes for your favorable answer.

" I am, Dear Madam,

" Yours most respectfully,

"John Hammerton.

" Shaw, June \st, 1833."

The reader may be surprised by the double m in the signature. It was my father's custom to write our name so, for a reason that will be explained in another chapter. The letter itself is rather formal, according to the fashion of the time, but I think it is a good letter in its way, and believe it to have been perfectly sincere. No doubt my father fully intended to reform his way of life, but it is easier to make a good resolution than to adhere to it. I do not know enough of the degree of excess to which his love of pleasure led him, to be able to describe his life as a young man accurately, but as my mother had been well brought up and was a refined person for her rank in society, I conclude that she would not have encouraged a notorious evil-liver. Those who knew my father in his early manhood have told me that he was very popular, and yet at the same time that he bore himself with considerable dignity, one old lady going so far as to say that when he walked through the main street at Shaw, it seemed as if all the town belonged to him. It is difficult for us to understand quite accurately the social code of the Georgian era, when a man might indulge in pleasures which seem to us coarse and degrading, and yet retain all the pride and all the bearing of a gentleman.

The marriage took place according to the fixed resolution of the contracting parties, and their life together was immensely happy during the short time that it lasted. Most unfortunately it came to an end after little more than one year by my mother's lamentably premature death. I happen to possess a letter from my father's sister to her sister Anne in which she gives an account of this event, and print it because it conveys the reality more vividly than a narrative at second hand. The reader will pardon the reference to myself. It matters nothing to a dead man — as I shall be when this page is printed — whether at the age of fourteen days he was considered a fine-looking child or a weakling.

" Friday Morning.

"My dear Anne, — You will not calculate upon so speedy an answer as this to your long and welcome epistle, nor will you calculate upon the melancholy intelligence I have to communicate. Poor John's wife, certainly the most amiable of aU woman-kind.

departed this life at twenty minutes past eleven last night. Her recovery from her confinement was very wonderful, we thought, but alas ! it was a false one. The Drs. Whitaker of Shaw, Wood of Rochdale, and Bardsley of Manchester all agree in opinion that she has died of mere weakness without any absolute disease. She has been very delicate for a long time. Poor dear John — if I were quite indifferent to him I should grieve to see his agonies — he says at sixty it might have happened in the common course of things and he would have borne it better, but at twenty-nine, just when he is beginning life, his sad bereavement does indeed seem untimely. It is a sore affliction to him, sent for some good, and may he understand and apply it with wisdom I They had, to be sure, hardly been married long enough to quarrel, but I never saw a couple so intent on making each other happy; they had not a thought of each other but what tended to please. The poor little boy is a very fine one, and I hope he will be reared, though it often happens that when the mother is consumptive the baby dies. I do hope when John is able to look after his office a little that the occupation of his mind will give him calm. He walks from room to room, and if I meet him and he is able to articulate at all, he says, ' Ah ! where must I be ? what must I do ? ' He says nobody had such a wife, and I do think nobody ever had. He wanted me not to write till arrangements were made about the funeral. I thought you would be sorry to be informed late upon a subject so near John's heart, and that it was too late for Mr. Hinde ^ to come to the funeral. I have really nothing to say except that our poor sister was so tolerable on Wednesday morning that I went with the Milnes of Park House to Henton Park races, which I liked very well, but as things have turned out I heartily repent going. Ann was, we hoped, positively recovering on Monday and Tuesday, but it seems to have been a lightening before death. She was a very long time in the agonies of death, but seemed to suffer very little. Our afflicted brother joins me in best love to you and your dear children. Kind compliments to Mr. Hinde. " I remain,