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Miss Burney had written her novels, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu her Letters, and Mrs. Inchbald her "Simple Story" and her plays, before Mary came to London. Though the Amelias and Lydia Melfords of fiction were still favorite types, the blue-stocking was gaining ascendency. Because she was such a rara avis she received a degree of attention and devotion which now appears extraordinary. Mrs.

As a novelist, Goethe and his reputation are problems, and likely to continue such, to the countrymen of Mrs. Inchbald, Miss Harriet Lee, Miss Edgeworth, and Sir Walter Scott.

It is true, that England boasts of many distinguished female writers; that the works of Mrs Radcliffe opened a new vein of rich description and solemn mystery; that the comedies of Inchbald netted her innocent and persevering spirit some thousand pounds; and that Joanna Baillie's tragedies entitle her to an enduring fame.

That he should for a moment have supposed such a step possible is the more surprising, because he afterwards showed himself to be not only fond of the society of women, but unusually nice and discriminating in selecting it. His women friends were all famous either for beauty or cleverness. Before his marriage he was on terms of intimacy with Mrs. Inchbald, with Amelia Alderson, soon to become Mrs.

Edwardes Square, with its houses on the north side bordering Kensington Road, is peculiarly attractive, with a large garden in the centre, and an old-world air about its houses, which are mostly small. The name was taken from the family name of Lord Kensington. Mrs. Inchbald stayed as a boarder at No. 4 in the square when she was sixty-five.

I know from experience we were formed to make each other happy. I have not the least expectation that I can now ever know happiness again." Mrs. Inchbald was another to whom he at once sent the melancholy news. "I always thought you used her ill, but I forgive you," he told her in his note. Now that Mary was dead he felt the insult that had been shown her even more keenly than at the time.

Inchbald of Cats and I beg you to have consideration for my noble efforts, O! French Cats, among whom has risen the noblest house of our race, that of Puss in Boots, eternal type of Advertiser, whom so many men have imitated but to whom no one has yet erected a monument. I was born at the home of a parson in Catshire, near the little town of Miaulbury.

Two of the persons, the loss of whose acquaintance Mary principally regretted upon this occasion, were Mrs. Inchbald and Mrs. Siddons. Their acquaintance, it is perhaps fair to observe, is to be ranked among her recent acquisitions. Mrs.

Inchbald, when well advanced in years, could enter so thoroughly into the spirit of another as to beg a friend to lend her a faded blue silk handkerchief or sash, that she might represent her real character of a passée blue-stocking. Mary's gayety on the present occasion was less artificial than it had been at the Dublin mask.

When acting at Edinburgh she spent on herself only eight shillings a week in board and lodging. It was after her husband's death that Mrs. Inchbald finished a little novel, called "A Simple Story," but it was not until twelve years afterwards that she could get it published.