a passage describing Correggio as a true servant of God in his art, above sordid ambition, devoted to truth, “one of those superior beings of whom there are so few;” Margaret wrote on the margin, ‘And yet all might be such.’  The book lay long on the table of the owner, in Florence, and chanced to be read there by a young artist of much talent.  “These words,” said he, months afterwards, “struck out a new strength in me.  They revived resolutions long fallen away, and made me set my face like a flint.”

But Margaret’s courage was thoroughly sweet in its temper.  She accused herself in her youth of unamiable traits, but, in all the later years of her life, it is difficult to recall a moment of malevolence.  The friends whom her strength of mind drew to her, her good heart held fast; and few persons were ever the objects of more persevering kindness.  Many hundreds of her letters remain, and they are alive with proofs of generous friendship given and received.

Among her early friends, Mrs. Farrar, of Cambridge, appears to have discovered, at a critical moment in her career, the extraordinary promise of the young girl, and some false social position into which her pride and petulance, and the mistakes of others, had combined to bring her, and she set herself, with equal kindness and address, to make a second home for Margaret in her own house, and to put her on the best footing in the agreeable society of Cambridge.  She busied herself, also, as she could, in removing all superficial blemishes from the gem.  In a well-chosen travelling party, made up by Mrs. Farrar, and which turned out to be the beginning of much happiness by the friendships then formed, Margaret visited, in the summer of 1835, Newport, New York, and Trenton Falls; and, in the autumn, made the acquaintance, at Mrs. F.’s house, of Miss Martineau, whose friendship, at that moment, was an important stimulus to her mind.

Mrs. Farrar performed for her, thenceforward, all the offices of an almost maternal friendship.  She admired her genius, and wished that all should admire it.  She counselled and encouraged her, brought to her side the else unsuppliable aid of a matron and a lady, sheltered her in sickness, forwarded her plans with tenderness and constancy, to the last.  I read all this in the tone of uniform gratitude and love with which this lady is mentioned in Margaret’s letters.  Friendships like this praise both parties; and the security with which people of a noble disposition approached Margaret, indicated the quality of her own infinite tenderness.  A very intelligent woman applied to her what Stilling said of Goethe:  “Her heart, which few knew, was as great as her mind, which all knew;” and added, that, “in character, Margaret was, of all she had beheld, the largest woman, and not a woman who wished, to be a man.”  Another lady added, “She never disappointed you.  To any one whose confidence she had once drawn out, she was thereafter faithful.  She could talk of persons, and never gossip; for she had a fine instinct that kept her from any reality, and from any effect of treachery.”  I was still more struck with the remark that followed.  “Her life, since she went abroad, is wholly unknown to me; but I have an unshaken trust that what Margaret did she can defend.”