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are so many daggers set with precious stones to a woman. God bless you, and keep them from turning upon yourself!"
Touchingly beautiful were the contrasts she drew between the ideal and actual of a poet's existence; between the lofty thoughts and proud resolves and enchanting hopes of the gifted mind in solitude, and the weariness, the vexation and disappointment which often attend the public career of the children of Genius. During the moods which prompted such remarks, who, while gazing on her countenance, where the lights of genius and the shadows of life fitfully chased each other,—who could help acknowledging that,
"If glorious be the gifted poet's lot,"
amid the dreams of solitude, yet, when brought into collision with the ruder elements of society, that lot must be often
"Painful more than glorious?"
Such were the eloquent sentiments of one who well knew literary life; of one whose own experience may be cited as illustrative of our introductory remarks. Surely it will be acknowledged there is great disparity between the literary fame of this gifted writer and the popular estimation of her works!
B
