nightingales saluted me the moment I drove into the wood.'

There is something of Madame de Sevigne in her vivid realisation of
natural things.

She nursed her father through a long and trying illness, and when he
died found herself alone in the world with impaired health and very
little besides her pension from the Civil List to live upon. Dr.
Mitford left 1000 pounds worth of debts, which this honourable woman
then and there set to work to try and pay. So much courage and
devotion touched the hearts of her many friends and readers, and
this sum was actually subscribed by them. Queens, archbishops,
dukes, and marquises subscribe to the testimonial, so do the
literary ladies, Mesdames Bailey, Edgeworth, Trollope; Mrs. Opie is
determined to collect twenty pounds at least, although she justly
says she wishes it were for anything but to pay the Doctor's debts.

In 1844 it is delightful to read of a little ease at last in this
harassed life; of a school-feast with buns and flags organised by
the kind lady, the children riding in waggons decked with laurel,
Miss Mitford leading the way, followed by eight or ten neighbouring
carriages, and the whole party waiting in Swallowfield Lane to see
the Queen and Prince Albert returning from their visit to the Duke
of Wellington. 'Our Duke went to no great expense,' says Miss
Mitford. (Dr. Mitford would have certainly disapproved had he been
still alive.) One strip of carpet the Duke did buy, the rest of the
furniture he hired in Reading for the week. The ringers, after
being hard at work for four hours, sent a can to the house to ask
for some beer, and the can was sent back empty.