SEPTEMBER. 
JASMINE —THE MATRON. 
‘Here Jasmine spreads the silver flower 
To deck the wall, or weave the bower." 
HE was the wife of a dignified clergyman, and resided 
chiefly in a great cathedral town, to which I once or twice 
accompanied my father, whose near relation she had 
married. She was a middle-aged woman, with sons and 
daughters already settled in life, and must, in her youth, 
have been exceedingly lovely; indeed, she might still be 
deemed a model of matronly beauty. Her face was in 
the highest degree soft, feminine, and delicate, with an 
extreme purity and fairness of complexion ; dove-like eyes, 
a gentle smile, and a general complacency and benevolence of aspect, 
such as I have rarely seen equalled. That sweet face was all sunshine. 
There was something in her look which realised the fine expression 
of the poet, when he speaks of,— 
. . . ‘ those eyes affectionate and glad, 
That seemed to love whatever they looked upon.’ 
Her voice and manner were equally delightful, equally captivating, although 
quite removed from any of the usual arts of captivation. Their great 
charm was their perfect artlessness and graciousness, the natural result of a 
most artless and gracious nature. She kept but little company ; being so 
deaf as almost to unfit her for society ; but this infirmity, which to most 
people is so great a disadvantage, seemed, in her case, only an added 
charm. She sat on her sofa in sober cheerfulness, placid and smiling, 
as if removed from the cares and the din of the work-a-day world. 
and she was so attentive and so quick, that one sentence,—half a sentence, 
a word,—half a word, would be enough. She could catch even the zest 
of a repartee.and when she uttered her pretty petition, * Mirth, 
admit me of thy crew! ’ brought as ready a comprehension, as true a spirit 
of gaiety, and as much innocent enjoyment into a young and laughing 
circle, as she found there. Her reliance on the kindness and affection of 
all around her was unbounded. She was a most sweet person. I saw too 
little of her, and lost her too soon; but I loved her dearly, and still 
cherish her memory. 
Miss Mitford. 
