been so often celebrated.[4] The education of their young pupils was
undertaken by the five sisters. "In my mind's eye," I see them now
before me; while every circumstance of those early days is minutely and
indelibly impressed upon my memory.

I remember the first time I ever was present at a dramatic
representation: it was the benefit of that great actor[5] who was
proceeding rapidly toward the highest paths of fame, when death, dropped
the oblivious curtain, and closed the scene for ever. The part which he
performed was King Lear; his wife, afterward Mrs. Fisher, played
Cordelia, but not with sufficient _eclat_ to render the profession an
object for her future exertions. The whole school attended, Mr. Powel's
two daughters being then pupils of the Misses More. Mrs. John Kemble,
then Miss P. Hopkins, was also one of my schoolfellows, as was the
daughter of Mrs. Palmer, formerly Miss Pritchard, and afterward Mrs.
Lloyd. I mention these circumstances merely to prove that memory does
not deceive me.

In my early days my father was prosperous, and my mother was the
happiest of wives. She adored her children; she devoted her thoughts and
divided her affections between them and the tenderest of husbands. Their
spirits now, I trust, are in happier regions, blest, and reunited
for ever.

If there could be found a fault in the conduct of my mother toward her
children, it was that of a too unlimited indulgence, a too tender care,
which but little served to arm their breast against the perpetual arrows
of mortal vicissitude. My father's commercial concerns were crowned with
prosperity. His house was opened by hospitality, and his generosity was
only equalled by the liberality of fortune: every day augmented his