t　because　we　had　a　little　brother。　This　allows　nearly　sixteen　years　between　the　eldest　and　the　youngest；　including　one　who　came　into　the　world　still…born。　Although　she　had　ten　children　living；　my　mother　never　ceased　to　regret　this　boy；　and　I　remember　her　crying；　when　she　pointed　out　to　me　where　he　was　buried　in　Bradenham　churchyard。

My　mother　never　was　a　beauty　in　the　ordinary　sense　of　the　word；　but　in　youth；　to　judge　by　the　pictures　which　I　have　seen　of　her　（photographs　were　not　then　known）；　she　must　have　been　very　refined　and　charming　in　appearance；　and　indeed　remained　so　all　her　life。　Her　abilities　were　great；　taking　her　all　in　all　she　was　perhaps　the　ablest　woman　whom　I　have　known；　though　she　had　no　iron　background　to　her　character；　for　that　she　was　too　gentle。　Her　bent　no　doubt　was　literary；　and　had　circumstances　permitted　I　am　sure　she　would　have　made　a　name　in　that　branch　of　art　to　which　in　the　intervals　of　her　crowded　life　she　gravitated　by　nature。　Also　she　was　a　good　musician；　and　drew　well。　Of　her　mental　abilities　I　have　however　spoken　in　a　brief　memoir　which　I　published　as　a　preface　to　a　new　edition　of　my　mother’s　poem；　“Life　and　its　Author。”

I　think　that　the　greatest　of　her　gifts；　however；　was　that　of　conversation。　No　more　charming　panion　could　be　imagined。　Also　she　had　the　art　of　drawing　the　best　out　of　anyone　with　whom　she　might　be　talking；　as　the　sympathetic　sometimes　can　do。　In　a　minute　or　two　she　would　find　which　was　his　or　her　strongest　point　and　to　this　turn　the　conversation。　Notwithstanding　the　tumultuous　nature　of　her　life；　her　illnesses　and　other　distractions；　she　contrived　to　read　a　great　deal；　and　to　keep　herself　au　courant　with　all　thought　movements　and　the　political　affairs　of　the　day。　Further　she　did　her　very　best　to　teach　her　nu