," a short poem among the proffered
contributions, very different, as I thought, from the shoal of verses
perpetually setting through the office of such a periodical, and
possessing much more merit. Its authoress was quite unknown to me. She
was one Miss Mary Berwick, whom I had never heard of; and she was to be
addressed by letter, if addressed at all, at a circulating-library in
the western district of London. Through this channel, Miss Berwick was
informed that her poem was accepted, and was invited to send another.
She complied, and became a regular and frequent contributor. Many
letters passed between the journal and Miss Berwick, but Miss Berwick
herself was never seen.

How we came gradually to establish at the office of "Household Words"
that we knew all about Miss Berwick, I have never discovered. But we
settled somehow, to our complete satisfaction, that she was governess in
a family; that she went to Italy in that capacity, and returned; and
that she had long been in the same family. We really knew nothing
whatever of her, except that she was remarkably business-like, punctual,
self-reliant, and reliable; so I suppose we insensibly invented the
rest. For myself, my mother was not a more real personage to me than
Miss Berwick the governess became.

This went on until December, 1854, when the Christmas number, entitled
"The Seven Poor Travellers," was sent to press. Happening to be going to
dine that day with an old and dear friend, distinguished in literature
as "Barry Cornwall," I took with me an early proof of that number, and
remarked, as I laid it on the drawing-room table, that it contained a
very pretty poem, written by a certain Miss Berwick. Next day brought me
the disclosure that I had so spoken of the poem to the mother of its
writer, in its writer's presence; that I had no such correspondent in
existence as Miss Berwick; and that the name had been assumed by Barry
Cornwall's eldest daughter, Miss Adelaide Anne Procter.

The anecdote I have here noted down, besides serving to explain why the
parents of the late Miss Procter have looked to me for these poor words
of remembrance of their lamented child, strikingly illustrates the
honesty, independence, and quiet dignity of the lady's character. I had
known her when she was very young; I had been honored with her father's
friendship when I was myself a young aspirant; and she had said at home,
"If I send him, in my own name, verses that he does not ho