She seems now, when still about six, to have broken out into song:—­

“EPHIBOL (EPIGRAM OR EPITAPH,—­WHO KNOWS WHICH?) ON MY DEAR LOVE, ISABELLA.

   “Here lies sweet Isabel in bed,
    With a night-cap on her head;
    Her skin is soft, her face is fair,
    And she has very pretty hair: 
    She and I in bed lies nice,
    And undisturbed by rats or mice. 
    She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan,
    Though he plays upon the organ. 
    Her nails are neat, her teeth are white;
    Her eyes are very, very bright. 
    In a conspicuous town she lives,
    And to the poor her money gives. 
    Here ends sweet Isabella’s story,
    And may it be much to her glory!”

Here are some bits at random:—­

   “Of summer I am very fond,
    And love to bathe into a pond: 
    The look of sunshine dies away,
    And will not let me out to play. 
    I love the morning’s sun to spy
    Glittering through the casement’s eye;
    The rays of light are very sweet,
    And puts away the taste of meat. 
    The balmy breeze comes down from heaven,
    And makes us like for to be living.”

“The casawary is an curious bird, and so is the gigantic crane, and the pelican of the wilderness, whose mouth holds a bucket of fish and water.  Fighting is what ladies is not qualyfied for, they would not make a good figure in battle or in a duel.  Alas! we females are of little use to our country.  The history of all the malcontents as ever was hanged is amusing.”  Still harping on the Newgate Calendar!

“Braehead is extremely pleasant to me by the companie of swine, geese, cocks, etc., and they are the delight of my soul.”

“I am going to tell you of a melancholy story.  A young turkie of 2 or 3 months old, would you believe it, the father broke its leg, and he killed another!  I think he ought to be transported or hanged.”

“Queen Street is a very gay one, and so is Princes Street, for all the lads and lasses, besides bucks and beggars parade there.”

“I should like to see a play very much, for I never saw one in all my life, and don’t believe I ever shall; but I hope I can be content without going to one.  I can be quite happy without my desire being granted.”

“Some days ago Isabella had a terrible fit of the toothake, and she walked with a long night-shift at dead of night like a ghost, and I thought she was one.  She prayed for nature’s sweet restorer—­balmy sleep—­but did not get it—­a ghostly figure indeed she was, enough to make a saint tremble.  It made me quiver and shake from top to toe.  Superstition is a very mean thing and should be despised and shunned.”

Here is her weakness and her strength again:  “In the love-novels all the heroines are very desperate.  Isabella will not allow me to speak about lovers and heroins, and ’tis too refined for my taste.”  “Miss Egward’s (Edgeworth’s) tails are very good, particularly some that are very much adapted for youth (!) as Laz Laurance and Tarelton, False Keys, etc. etc.”