passionate throwing of herself into one thing with all her soul was eminently characteristic of her. She used to dress well, too, and gave thought to her raiment, which at that time always set off and enhanced her burnished hair, that had a thread of gold hidden somewhere in its dusky masses, and her glorious eyes that were so eloquent of speech. Soon afterwards, however, Mathilde went to Germany and Switzerland, and I lost sight of her for some years; and then came her long stay in Manchester with Madox Brown's family. In her later life I often met her again, but she was then known and admired by so large a circle of friends that our subsequent meetings as women can tell nothing new. It is in her early girlhood and young womanhood that she stands out, a vivid memory to me for all time."
Some years had yet to pass ere Mathilde Blind could attempt anything of note in literature, and the fullest expression of her inner being through the pen is to be found in her correspondence with her friend already mentioned, Lily Wolfsohn, extracts from which we have been permitted to consult. Many of their revelations of thought and feeling are of the profoundest interest, but anything like an adequate selection would exceed the limits of this brief memoir. Some notice, however, may be taken of the acquaintance mth remarkable men already referred to as one of the chief agents in moulding her character. The arrival of Garibaldi in England, in 1864, naturally stimulated her enthusiasm in the highest degree, and the account of his triumphal reception is most spirited and interesting. Introduced to the hero, she found hhxi dignified, calm, unassuming, but somewhat deficient in the personal magnetism with which her imagination had endowed him. On rare occasions, however, the fire flashed out. Once when Garibaldi was
