In illustration of the truth of this, I may give an extract from a letter to her brother, written from Roe Head, May 17th, 1832:—­“Lately I had begun to think that I had lost all the interest which I used formerly to take in politics; but the extreme pleasure I felt at the news of the Reform Bill’s being thrown out by the House of Lords, and of the expulsion, or resignation of Earl Grey, &c., convinced me that I have not as yet lost all my penchant for politics.  I am extremely glad that aunt has consented to take in ‘Fraser’s Magazine;’ for, though I know from your description of its general contents it will be rather uninteresting when compared with ‘Blackwood,’ still it will be better than remaining the whole year without being able to obtain a sight of any periodical whatever; and such would assuredly be our case, as, in the little wild moorland village where we reside, there would be no possibility of borrowing a work of that description from a circulating library.  I hope with you that the present delightful weather may contribute to the perfect restoration of our dear papa’s health; and that it may give aunt pleasant reminiscences of the salubrious climate of her native place,” &c.

To return to “Mary’s” letter.

“She used to speak of her two elder sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, who died at Cowan Bridge.  I used to believe them to have been wonders of talent and kindness.  She told me, early one morning, that she had just been dreaming; she had been told that she was wanted in the drawing-room, and it was Maria and Elizabeth.  I was eager for her to go on, and when she said there was no more, I said, ’but go on! Make it out!  I know you can.’  She said she would not; she wished she had not dreamed, for it did not go on nicely, they were changed; they had forgotten what they used to care for.  They were very fashionably dressed, and began criticising the room, &c.

“This habit of ‘making out’ interests for themselves that most children get who have none in actual life, was very strong in her.  The whole family used to ‘make out’ histories, and invent characters and events.  I told her sometimes they were like growing potatoes in a cellar.  She said, sadly, ‘Yes!  I know we are!’

“Some one at school said she ’was always talking about clever people; Johnson, Sheridan, &c.’  She said, ’Now you don’t know the meaning of clever, Sheridan might be clever; yes, Sheridan was clever,—­scamps often are; but Johnson hadn’t a spark of cleverality in him.’  No one appreciated the opinion; they made some trivial remark about ‘cleverality,’ and she said no more.