242 Mine Hosts Last Slory. [ Mancu, 
I assented willingly; and my old friend, subduing the emotions 
which he would not acknowledge, began pretty nearly in the following 
words :— 
« T was the father of four daughters ; each different from the other in 
face as in character ; each possessing—not in my fond eyes alone, but 
by the common voice of the world—enough of feminine sweetness, both 
of person and disposition, to separate her from the ordinary creatures 
whom mothers make puppets of for their advancement and wretchedness. 
My eldest, left by my wife almost in the position of a parent to her 
motherless sisters, became in a short time rather too dictatorial and 
matronly to combine very cordially with them in their childish sports 
and occupations. Unfortunately, the watchfulness with which she 
checked their follies and directed their improvement, was never entirely 
of that disinterested kind which only a mother can exercise. Some little 
of rivalry, of fear, of unprovoked suspicion, was mixed up with her 
amiable efforts to preserve the girls from the corrupt accomplishments 
and tricks of their playmates ; and, in consequence, the few years which 
intervened between her birth and that of my second child, became mag- 
nified into a large space, and she stood on a height above her sisters 
which they regarded with awe. This was the source of many misfor- 
tunes ; for they concealed things from her which were done only for the 
sake of the concealment ; and as a thousand clandestine acts are sure to 
succeed one, so that one would not have been thought of even by these 
very children, if the eldest had lived with them in a perfect state of cor- 
dial and confiding intercourse. My second, you know almost as well 
as myself: you may draw her character. The third—how shall I find 
phrases to describe her? She was my favourite child, Sir. I may 
acknowledge it now without scruple. She was the one whom I admired 
and loved most strongly, and yet most reasonably, for her excellence 
was pre-eminent ; and those graces which link the hearts together were 
as thick and powerful upon her as the tendrils ef our native vines. In 
truth, she had a very singular and commanding character. I speak of 
that ; for though, in my sight, she was as beautiful as daybreak, yet it 
was more common to give the praise of features to the little one, her 
youngest sister ; and I am content to give way so far as this. But her 
soul was her dower. Without a taint of earthly grossness, pure and 
glittering as the dew, she had the faculty of correcting and elevating 
those with whom she went, not by reproof, but by the insensible power 
of virtue in itself, which would not suffer the company of evil and con- 
trary affections. Yet so diflident—so retiring! Amongst strangers, she 
seemed all coldness, both of feeling and manners ; her heart, as well as 
her head, was distrusted or looked lightly upon by the world, who knew 
her not ; but to us she abounded in all the rich and generous accomplish- 
ments of perfect womanheod. Her step, her countenance, for ever gay, 
lightened by a free conscience, and a thousand intentions of benevolence 
towards her fellow-creatures. Her voice never heard in @ispraise, or 
clamour, or sullen complaint ; but happy, musical, and heralding to all 
about her all that she had heard or seen that might contribute to their 
benefit. Of herself, or for herself, there was nothing ; but, for the rest, 
she was a household spirit, without whom their wisest projects would 
have been imperfect ; and the neighbourhood, far and wide, can answer 
how kindly she aided their poor plans, relieved their wants, and com- 
forted them in their distresses; and yet all unseen as the light that 
wakens the song of birds, or the heat that calls forth the perfume of the 
