already commenced writing poetry, and I remember one evening when we were dining at Dr. and Mrs. Julius Althaus's, that she was requested to read a poem of her own. I also recollect the interest with which my father listened to the fair young poetess, as she read or recited a poem redolent of moorland and heather. We often met at the house of mutual friends, and I was always impressed by the range of talk which Mathilde Blind easily covered. But there was one side to her nature, as I knew her then, which perhaps subsequent friends will not so easily recognise in the Mathilde Blind of later years. I mean her passion for dancing! Youth is the time for dancing, and I was fond of it myself, but I think I never saw any one so absorbed by it for the time and hour as was Mathilde Blind. I had plenty of opportunities for noting this, for we sometimes had small carpet dances to which Mathilde was asked as a bright and particular star; or she would give a similar entertainment, or we would meet at some German public ball which the German Liederkranz was wont to give amiually. It is to me a pleasure to remember Mathilde Blind as she was then, nor do I recollect ever having seen more dazzling and vivid beauty than was hers. When she came into a room, were it ever so large, she would draw all eyes to her, and when, years later, I read 'Esmond' and came to the passage where Beatrix is described as entering the theatre and compelling all glances by her triumphant beauty, I was always reminded of Mathilde Blind. From the time of her coming into a ball-room to the time of her leaving it, she would be besieged by numberless applicants, but I firmly believe that the homage and admiration of those days were almost a matter of indifference to the beautiful young girl, who simply danced for the enjoyment of dancing. This
