gentleman. He died young, leaving his lovely widow
in straitened circumstances, having only her widow's pension to depend
on. The eldest son--afterward Colonel Porter--was sent to school by
his grandfather.

We have glanced briefly at Sir Robert Ker Porter's wonderful
talents, and Anna Maria, when in her twelfth year, rushed, as
Jane acknowledged, "prematurely into print." Of Anna Maria we knew
personally but very little, enough however to recall with a pleasant
memory her readiness in conversation and her bland and cheerful
manners. No two sisters could have been more different in bearing and
appearance; Maria was a delicate blonde, with a _riant_ face, and
an animated manner--we had said almost _peculiarly Irish_--rushing
at conclusions, where her more thoughtful and careful sister paused
to consider and calculate. The beauty of Jane was statuesque, her
deportment serious yet cheerful, a seriousness quite as natural as
her younger sister's gaiety; they both labored diligently, but Anna
Maria's labor was sport when compared to her eldest sister's careful
toil; Jane's mind was of a more lofty order, she was intense, and felt
more than she said, while Anna Maria often said more than she felt;
they were a delightful contrast, and yet the harmony between them was
complete; and one of the happiest days we ever spent, while trembling
on the threshold of literature, was with them at their pretty
road-side cottage in the village of Esher before the death of their
venerable and dearly beloved mother, whose rectitude and prudence had
both guided and sheltered their youth, and who lived to reap with
them the harvest of their industry and exertion. We remember the drive
there, and the anxiety as to how those very "clever ladies" would
look, and what they would say; we talked over the various letters
we had received from Jane, and thought of the cordial invitation to
their cottage--their "mother's cottage"--as they always called it. We
remember the old white friendly spaniel who looked at us with blinking
eyes, and preceded us up stairs; we remember the formal old-fashioned
courtesy of the venerable old lady, who was then nearly eighty--the
blue ribands and good-natured frankness of Anna Maria, and the noble
courtesy of Jane, who received visitors as if she granted an audience;
this manner was natural to her; it was only the manner of one whose
thoughts have dwelt more upon heroic deeds, and lived more with heroes
than with actua