Cb. IV.] REMINISCENCES. 83 



liis observation. His note-book, in which are recorded sayings 

 of his young children, shows his pleasure in them. He seemed 

 to retain a sort of regretful memory of the childhoods which 

 had faded away, and thus he wrote in his Becollections : — 

 " When you were very young it was my delight to play with 

 you all, and I think with a sigh that such days can never 

 return." 



I quote, as showing the tenderness of his nature, some 

 sentences from an account of his little daughter Annie, written 

 a few days after her death : — 



" Our poor child, Annie, was born in Gower Street, on 

 March 2, 1841, and expired at Malvern at mid-day on the 

 23rd of April, 1851. 



" I write these few pages, as I think in after years, if we 

 live, the impressions now put down will recall more vividly her 

 chief characteristics. From whatever point I look back at her, 

 the main feature in her disposition which at once rises before 

 me, is her buoyant joyousness, tempered by two other charac- 

 teristics, namely, her sensitiveness, which might easily have 

 beon overlooked by a stranger, and her strong affection. Her 

 joyousness and animal spirits radiated from her whole counte- 

 nance, and rendered every movement elastic and full of life 

 and vigour. It was delightful and cheerful to behold her. 

 Her dear face now rises before me, as she used sometimes to 

 come running downstairs with a stolen pinch of snuff for me, 

 her whole form radiant with the pleasure of giving pleasure. 

 Even when playing with her cousins, when her joyousness 

 almost passed into boisterousness, a single glance of my eye, 

 not of displeasure (for I thank God I hardly ever cast one on 

 her), but of want of sympathy, would for some minutes alter 

 her whole countenance. 



" The other point in her character, which made her joyous- 

 ness and spirits so delightful, was her strong affection, which 

 was of a most clinging, fondling nature. When quite a baby, 

 this showed itself in never being easy without touching her 

 mother, when in bed with her ; and quite lately she would, 

 when poorly, fondle for any length of time one of her mother's 

 arms. When very unwell, her mother lying down beside her, 

 seemed to soothe her in a manner quite different from what it 

 would have done to any of our other children. So, again, she 

 would at almost any time spend half-an-hour in arranging my 

 hair, ' making it,' as she called it, ' beautiful,' or in smoothing, 

 the poor dear darling, my collar or cuffs — in short, in fondling 

 me. 



"Besides her joyousness thus tempered, she was in her 



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