for one's portrait is so catching, that I am quite sure he may, if he pleases, paint half Berkshire.

Have you read Mr. Smith, of the Museum's, "Life and Times of Nolleken's," the sculptor? It is a strange slip-slop style; but the matter is entertaining, and would be interesting to you who have lived so much amongst artists.

God bless you, my very dear friend! All good wishes, of this season and of every season, to you all. Kindest regards from my father and mother. Ever most affectionately yours, M. R. MITFORD.

TO SIR WILLIAM ELFORD, Washbourne House, Totnes. Three-mile Cross, Dec. 26, 1828. The payment of which you speak* has been done away with these thirty years; and the sum that I have received is probably the largest given to any tragic author during the present century. I have no reason to complain. The play has been most eminently successful, and will undoubtedly be a stock piece. Heaven grant I may ever do as well again! I shall have hard work to write up to my own reputation, for certainly I am at present greatly overrated.

Now for my young artist. I should greatly have wondered, my dear Sir William, if you had heard of him, for he has only just sprung to light. He is not a Berkshire man. He became known to me through a mutual friend-Mr. Milton, of the War Office-author of a very clever work on the pictures in the Louvre, and one of the best judges of art in England. He fell in with young Lucas, employed him to paint two of his own children (twins), and was so enchanted with the portrait, that he immediately determined to make me sit to him, by way of bringing him into notice. Mr. Milton is a lively, agreeable, enthusiastic person, who always carries things his own way; and, being sure that he would not propose an inadequate artist, I consented. Accordingly Mr. Lucas arrived to paint me. On that very morning, however, I was taken ill; and, instead of bringing him here, my father (who had gone to Reading to meet him) conveyed him to the house of a friend in the neighborhood, who wished for portraits of some of his family, hoping that by the time *The old mode of paying dramatic authors in the last century, which was, the entire receipt of the house for the third, sixth, and ninth nights.

they were done I might be well enough to sit. Whilst there he painted two portraits-one of a venerable clergyman of seventy-six, the other of a lovely woman of twenty-eight; and then, I being still too unwell to sit, he was obliged to return to town to fulfill some other engagements. Last Monday he returned here; and in that time, such was the sensation caused by his previous pictures, that almost every one who had seen them wished to be portrayed by the same hand. At present, however, he only means to do my friend, the wife of the old clergyman, and myself. He will return in the summer to take Mr. Walter's (of the "Times") children; and, I hope and believe, our friend, Lady Madalina, and one or two other people of connection and consequence. But you may depend upon it that he is not likely to prove a provincial painter. London is his place, and that you will find. Several judges have seen these pictures-amongst them Mr. Barnes, the editor of the "Times ;" and every body feels assured that this young man (he is only one-and-twenty) will be eminent in his art. There is nothing wild, or odd, or eccentric, or overambitious about his paintings. They are carefully finished, firmly painted, charmingly colored, and the strongest and pleasantest likenesses that I ever beheld. There is an ease *about them—“a masterly handling" (I think that is the painter's phrase)—that is equivalent to great fluency of style and felicity of phrase in writing. When you look at them they seem so natural, so alive, that it is more like looking at a face in a looking-glass than one in a picture. My portrait, on which he is depending so very much, will be a great contrast with the cook-maid thing of poor dear Mr. Haydon. I have given him three very long sittings; and I think you will like it, though even the head is not finished yet. I am sure that you will like the style of the picture, which is exceedingly graceful and lady-like. It is of the kit-kat size, dressed in a high black gown and Vandyke collar, and a black velvet hat with white feathers-younger and fairer than I am, certainly, but, they say, very like. My father says so; and I am sure that to his fondness no flattery would compensate for the absence of likeness.

I earnestly hope we may meet in the spring. Most affectionately yours, M. R. MITFORD.

CHAPTER V.

LETTERS FOR 1829.

TO SIR WILLIAM ELFORD, Washbourne, Totnes.

Three-mile Cross, Jan. 7, 1829.

A THOUSAND and a thousand thanks, my dear friend, for your most kind and cordial letter. I have told Mr. Lucas your kind order for a proof of the print,* which he will transmit to Mr. Cousins. The portrait, now just finished, is said by every body to be a very splendid work of art. It is certainly a most graceful and elegant picture—a very fine piece of color, and, they say, a very strong likeness. It was difficult, in painting me, to steer between the Scylla and Charybdis of making me dowdy, like one of my own rustic heroines, or dressed out like a tragedy queen. He has managed the matter with infinite taste, and given to the whole figure the look of a quiet gentlewoman. I never saw a more lady-like picture. The dress is a black velvet hat, with a long, drooping black feather; a claret-colored high gown; and a superb open cloak of gentianella blue, the silvery fur and white satin lining of which are most exquisitely painted, and form one of the most beautiful pieces of drapery that can be conceived. The face is thoughtful and placid, with the eyes looking away-a peculiarity which, they say, belongs to my expression.

He will be exceedingly clever generally, as well as in his art. I caution him (am I not right?) against two perils, matrimony and historical painting. He must neither fall in love nor paint history until he has made money enough by portraits to afford the indulgence. He is at present full of employment, and has a copy to make of my portrait for a female friend, in addition to his other commissions.

Adieu, my very dear friend. All the good wishes of this season, and of every season, to you and yours. Ever your faithful and affectionate friend, M. R. MITFORD.

* The print of Miss Mitford, from Lucas's portrait.

To the REV. WILLIAM HARNESS.

Three-mile Cross, 3 o'clock Sunday morning,}

Jan. 19, 1829.

MY DEAR FRIEND, Three hours ago I received your book, my father, who dined at Coley, having brought it from Mr. Milman; and I have since read it through-the second part twice through. That second sermon would have done honor to Shakspeare, and I half expected to find you quoting him. There would be a tacit hypocrisy, a moral cowardice, if I were to stop here, and not to confess, what I think you must suspect, although by no chance do I ever talk about it—that I do not, or rather can not, believe all that the Church requires. I humbly hope that it is not necessary to do so, and that a devout sense of the mercy of God, and an endeavor, however imperfectly and feebly, to obey the great precepts of justice and kindness, may be accepted in lieu of that entire faith. which, in me, will not be commanded. You will not suspect me of thoughtlessness in this matter; neither, I trust, does it spring from intellectual pride. Few persons have a deeper sense of their own weakness; few, indeed, can have so much weakness of character to deplore and to strive against.

Do not answer this part of my letter. It has cost me a strong effort to say this to you; but it would have been a concealment amounting to a falsity if I had not, and falsehood must be wrong. Do not notice it; a correspondence of controversy could only end in alienation, and I could not afford to lose my oldest and kindest friend-to break up the close intimacy in which I am so happy and of which I am so proud. Do not notice what I have said, and yet write soon. There is no cause why you should not. I occasion no scandal either by opinions or by conduct. The clergyman of our parish and his family are my most intimate friends. They render me their kindest services, their truest sympathy, and -which is more, far more-they ask for my poor service and my honest sympathy when they are in difficulty or in affliction. Write very soon-of any thing or every thing-of the bar, of the empire, of my picture, or of my young friend, Mr. Lucas. By the way, the picture will be with him all next. week. I have been interrupted, and the postman is at the door. Ever yours, M. R. MITFORD.

TO SIR WILLIAM ELFORD, Washbourne House, Totnes.
Tuesday, March 2, 1829.

MY DEAR FRIEND,-You must forgive a short note in answer to your very kind and very delightful letter. I fear that, unless at Somerset House, where I hope it will find a place, my picture can not be visible this year. Mr. Lucas made me promise not to ask admission to Mr. Cousins's, even for myself. The reason is, that Sir Thomas Lawrence makes a great mystery of those pictures of his, which Mr. Cousins is engraving; does not like the prints in hand to be known or talked about until they come out; and therefore, for fear of offending him, Mr. Lucas particularly wishes no application to be made for entrance to Mr. Cousins's engravingroom. He says that Sir Thomas is at once so particular about this concealment, and yet so unwilling for people to know of this secrecy, which he insists upon, that an engraver who works for him has the most difficult course to steer that is possible. Of course I must beg you not mention this to him or to any one. It is a hundred to one but, if in town, you will be there at the time of the Exhibition, and then you would, of course, see the picture at the Royal Academy—in company, I hope, with the landscape, which I rejoice to hear you are painting.

I do not myself think that I shall be in town this year, having finally decided that I can not, without undue haste, complete my tragedy for this season. I am delighted

at this affair of the Catholics; it will be a means of pacification in Ireland, and every where, when once the question is settled.

Kindest regards to all from all here. Ever, my dear friend, most affectionately yours, M. R. MITFORD.

To the REV. WILLIAM HARNESS, Heathcote Street, London. Three-mile Cross, Tuesday, May 20, 1829. Once again, my dear friend, a thousand thanks for your great and constant kindness. Pray come and see us as soon as you can, and stay as long. Come on Monday morning, and stay till Saturday afternoon, as you do at Deepdene; and be sure and come soon, or they will be in the country, * Emancipation.