books, not too technical, and by the works of theologians whose views were broad and tolerant of doubt.  In 1847 she mentions reading some of Dr. Channing’s writings “with the greatest delight”; and some years afterwards she wrote:  “Began ‘Life of Channing’; interesting in the highest degree—­an echo of all those high and noble thoughts of which this earth is not yet worthy, but which I firmly believe will one day reign on it supreme.”  In later years she was deeply impressed by the writings of Dr. Martineau, and read many of his books.  But she was not interested in philosophical inquiry for its own sake; it was the importance of the moral and religious issues at stake in such discussions that attracted her.  History and biography it was natural she should read eagerly, and it was characteristic of her to praise and condemn actions long past with an intensity such as is usually excited by contemporary events.  Until a few years before her death she rose early to secure a space of time for reading and meditation before the duties of the day began.  Unless ill-health could be pleaded, fiction and light reading were banished from the morning hours.  She believed in strict adherence to such self-imposed sumptuary regulations, whether they applied to the body or to the pleasures of the mind.

In the course of her long life she became personally acquainted with nearly all the principal writers of the Victorian era, and some of them she knew well.

Among the earliest friends of Lord and Lady John Russell were Sydney Smith, Thomas Moore, and Macaulay.  There is a note in verse written by Lady John to Samuel Rogers, which will serve at least to suggest how readily her fancy and good spirits might run into rhyme on the occasion of some family rejoicing or for a children’s play.

    To Mr. Rogers, who was expected to breakfast and forgot to
    come

    CHESHAM PLACE, 1843

      When a poet a lady offends
        Is it prose her forgiveness obtains? 
      And from Rogers can less make amends
        Than the humblest and sweetest of strains?

      In glad expectation our board
        With roses and lilies we graced;
      But alas! the bard kept not his word,
        He came not for whom they were placed.

      Sad and silent our toast we bespread,
        At the empty chair looked we and sighed;
      All insipid tea, butter, and bread,
        For the salt of his wit was denied.

      Now in wrath we acknowledge how well
        He the “Pleasures of Memory” who drew,
      For mankind from his magical shell
        Gives the “Pains of Forgetfulness” too.

Rogers wrote in answer:—­

    CARA, CARISSIMA, CRUDELISSIMA,—­If such is to be the reward for my
    transgressions, what crimes shall I not commit before I die?  I
    shall shoot Victoria to-day, and Louis Philippe to-morrow.