copy of many a letter have I seen written
and corrected on the slate, before she "seized
the half-hour just previous to post-time to
assure" her friends of this or of that; and
Dr. Johnson was, as she said, her model in
these compositions. She drew herself up
with dignity, and only replied to Captain
Brown's last remark by saying, with marked
emphasis on every syllable, "I prefer Dr.
Johnson to Mr. Hood."

It is said—I won't vouch for the fact—
that Captain Brown was heard to say, sotto
voce, "D—n Dr. Johnson!" If he did, he
was penitent afterwards, as he showed by
going to stand near Miss Jenkyns's
armchair, and endeavouring to beguile her into
conversation on some more pleasing subject.
But she was inexorable. The next day, she
made the remark I have mentioned, about
Miss Jessie's dimples.

It was impossible to live a month at
Cranford, and not know the daily habits of each
resident; and long before my visit was
ended, I knew much concerning the whole
Brown trio. There was nothing new to be
discovered respecting their poverty; for they
had spoken simply and openly about that
from the very first. They made no mystery
of the necessity for their being economical.
All that remained to be discovered was the
Captain's infinite kindness of heart, and the
various modes in which, unconsciously to
himself, he manifested it. Some little
anecdotes were talked about for some time after
they occurred. As we did not read much, and
as all the ladies were pretty well suited with
servants, there was a dearth of subjects for
conversation. We, therefore, discussed the
circumstance of the Captain taking a poor old
woman's dinner out of her hands, one very
slippery Sunday. He had met her returning
from the bakehouse as he came from church,
and noticed her precarious footing; and, with
the grave dignity with which he did everything,
he relieved her of her burden, and
steered along the street by her side, carrying
her baked mutton and potatoes safely home.
This was thought very eccentric ; and it was
rather expected that he would pay a round of
calls, on the Monday morning, to explain and
apologise to the Cranford sense of propriety :
but he did no such thing; and then it was
decided that he was ashamed, and was
keeping out of sight. In a kindly pity for
him, we began to say—"After all, the
Sunday morning's ocurrence showed great
goodness of heart;" and it was resolved that
he should be comforted on his next appearance
amongst us; but, lo! he came down
upon us, untouched by any sense of shame,
speaking loud and bass as ever, his head
thrown back, his wig as jaunty and well-
curled as usual, and we were obliged to
conclude he had forgotten all about Sunday.

Miss Pole and Miss Jessie Brown had
set up a kind of intimacy, on the strength of
the Shetland wool and the new knitting
stitches ; so it happened that when I went
to visit Miss Pole, I saw more of the Browns
than I had done while staying with Miss
Jenkyns; who had never got over what she
called Captain Brown's disparaging remarks
upon Dr. Johnson, as a writer of light and
agreeable fiction. I found that Miss Brown
was seriously ill of some lingering, incurable
complaint, the pain occasioned by which gave
the uneasy expression to her face that I had
taken for unmitigated crossness. Cross, too,
she was at times, when the nervous irritability
occasioned by her disease became past
endurance. Miss Jessie bore with her at these
times even more patiently than she did with
the bitter self-upbraidings by which they
were invariably succeeded. Miss Brown
used to accuse herself, not merely of hasty
and irritable temper; but also of being the
cause why her father and sister were obliged
to pinch, in order to allow her the small
luxuries which were necessaries in her
condition. She would so fain have made
sacrifices for them and have lightened their
cares, that the original generosity of her
disposition added acerbity to her temper. All
this was borne by Miss Jessie and her father
with more than placidity—with absolute
tenderness. I forgave Miss Jessie her singing
out of time, and her juvenility of dress, when
I saw her at home. I came to perceive
that Captain Brown's dark Brutus wig and
padded coat (alas! too often threadbare) were
remnants of the military smartness of his
youth, which he now wore unconsciously.
He was a man of infinite resources, gained in
his barrack experience. As he confessed,
no one could black his boots to please him,
except himself; but, indeed, he was not
above saving the little maid-servant's labours
in every way, feeling, probably, that his
daughter's illness made the place a hard one.

He endeavoured to make peace with Miss
Jenkyns soon after the memorable dispute I
have named, by a present of a wooden fire-
shovel (his own making), having heard her
say how much the grating of an iron one
annoyed her. She received the present with
cool gratitude, and thanked him formally.
When he was gone, she bade me put it away
in the lumber-room; feeling, probably, that no
present from a man who preferred Mr. Hood
to Dr. Johnson could be less jarring than an
iron fire-shovel.

Such was the state of things when I left
Cranford and went to Drumble. I had,
however, several correspondents who kept me au
fait to the proceedings of the dear little town.
There was Miss Pole, who was becoming as
much absorbed in crochet as she had been
once in knitting ; and the burden of whose
letter was something like, "But don't you
forget the white worsted at Flint's," of the
old song; for, at the end of every sentence of
news, came a fresh direction as to some
crochet commission which I was to execute
for her. Miss Matilda Jenkyns (who did not