posed, fussy, indolent, kind-hearted Queen, and of the inquisitive, obstinate, good-natured King.

She was at the palace, indeed, when one of the earlier attacks of that mental ailment which at last slew George III.—fell upon him. She sees the poor Queen growing wild with dread-disturbed and trembling under those flashes of disorderly talk which smite upon her ear. She watches the King as he goes out to his drive on a certain fatal day;-hears the hushed, muffled steps and the babel of uncertain sounds, as he comes back late at night,-waits hour on hour for her usual summons to the Queen's presence, which does not come. At last, midnight being long past (and she meantime having hint of some great calamity) goes to the Queen's chamber; two other lady attendants were with her, she says; and the Queen, ghostly pale and shuddering-puts her hand kindly upon that of the poor little trembling Miss Burney and says "I am like ice so cold—so cold!"

"I tried to speak," says Miss Burney in her Diary, "but burst into tears: then the Queen did." And there was cause: for from beyond the chamber-along the corridor, came the idle

jabbering of King George; and the intellectual power (such as there was of it) "thro' words and things went sounding on its dim and perilous way."

I tell this not to test the reader's capability for sympathy, but to fasten poor little Miss Burney, the author of Evelina and Cecilia, in mind; and to connect her service in the palace of St. James, in the year 1788, with the first threat and the first real attack of the King's insanity. I am afraid we must set down, as one helping cause to the King's affliction, the American obstinacy in maintaining their Independence.

Miss Burney shortly after, with a pension of £100, retired from the royal duties, which had tried her sadly; and some years later encountering and greatly admiring General d'Arblay, who had come over an exile from France, in company with other distinguished emigrants, on the outbreak of the French Revolution, she married him (1793), and gave him a home that grew up out of the moneys received from her Camilla - hence called by old Dr. Burney, "Camilla Cottage."

She survived her husband and a son (a clergy

man of the Established Church), and lived to so great an age as to find all her conquests in fiction over-run at last by the brilliant successes of Miss Austen, of Miss Edgeworth, and the more splendid triumphs of Walter Scott. She died almost in our day (1840) and was buried in Bath; but her best monument you can see without going there; it is her book of Evelina and her Diary.

Hannah More.

Over-fine literary people will, I suppose, hardly recognize Hannah More - or Mistress Hannah More,* as I prefer to call her, in virtue of a good old English, and a good old New Englandish custom, too, which gave this title of dignity to matronly women-married or unmarried, of mature age, and of worthy lives.

We must go into the neighborhood of that picturesque old city of Bristol, in the West of England, to find her. She was one of the five daughters of a respectable schoolmaster in Gloucestershire. Hannah, though among the youngest,

* Hannah More, b. 1745; d. 1833.

'proved the clever one, and had written poems, more than passably good, before she was fifteen; and had completed a pastoral drama, when only seventeen. She was, moreover, comely; she was witty and alert of mind, and had so won upon the affections of a neighbor landholder, and wealthy gentleman of culture, that a marriage between the two came after a while to be arranged for; but this affair never went beyond the arrangement,— for reasons which do not clearly appear. It does appear that the parties remained friendly, and that Mistress Hannah More was in receipt of an annual pension of £200 in the way of amende perhaps her life through, from the backsliding but friendly groom. I am sorry to tell this story of her (about the £200). I think so well of her as to wish she had put it in an envelope, and returned it with her compliments-year after year -if need were. However, it went, as did many another hundred pounds and thousand pounds of her earnings, in the line of those great charities which illustrated and adorned her life.

Her elder sisters as early as 1757 established in Bristol a school for young ladies, which became

one of the most popular and favorite schools of the West of England; and when Hannah, some fifteen years later, went up to London, to look after the publication of her Search after Happiness, one or two of the sisters accompanied her; and Miss Hannah, who was taken off her feet" by the acting of Garrick, was met most kindly by the great tragedian was taken to his house, in

deed, and became thereafter one of the most intimate of the friends of Mrs. Garrick. Dr. Johnson, too, was enchanted by the brisk humor and lively repartee in these clever West-of-England girls; and we have on record a bit of his talk to one of them. He said, in his leviathan way: "I have heard that you are engaged in the useful and honorable employment of teaching young ladies." Whereupon they tell the story of it all, in their bright, full, eager way, and of their successes and the Doctor, softened and made jolly and companionable, says, 'What, five women live happily together in the same house! Bless me! I never was in Bristol - but I will come and see you. I'll come; I love you all five!" One of the sisters wrote home that

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