ford was known first as a dramatist, with
tragedy as her forte, and in later years as a novelist, but by
posterity she will be remembered as a portrayer of country
life, in simply worded sketches, with a quiet colouring of
humour. These sketches were collected, as "Our Village," into
five volumes, between 1824 and 1832. Miss Mitford was born
Dec. 16, 1787, at Alresford, Hampshire, England, the daughter
of a foolish spendthrift father, to whom she was pathetically
devoted, and lived in her native county almost throughout her
life. In her later years she received a Civil List pension.
She died on January 10, 1855. The quietness of the country is
in all Miss Mitford's writing, but it is a cheerful country,
pervaded by a rosy-cheeked optimism. Her letters, too,
scribbled on small scraps of paper, are as attractive as her
books.

_I.--Some of the Inhabitants_

Will you walk with me through our village, courteous reader? The journey
is not long. We will begin at the lower end, and proceed up the hill.

The tidy, square, red cottage on the right hand, with the long,
well-stocked garden by the side of the road, belongs to a retired
publican from a neighbouring town; a substantial person with a comely
wife--one who piques himself on independence and idleness, talks
politics, reads the newspapers, hates the minister, and cries out for
reform. He hangs over his gate, and tries to entice passengers to stop
and chat. Poor man! He is a very respectable person, and would be a very
happy one if he would add a little employment to his dignity. It would
be the salt of life to him.

Next to his house, though parted from it by another long garden with a
yew arbour at the end, is the pretty dwelling of the shoemaker, a pale,
sickly-looking, black-haired man, the very model of sober industry.
There he sits in his little shop from early morning till late at night.
An earthquake would hardly stir him. There is at least as much vanity in
his industry as in the strenuous idleness of the retired publican. The
shoemaker has only one pretty daughter, a light, delicate, fair-haired
girl of fourteen, the champion, protectress, and play-fellow of every
brat under three years old, whom she jumps, dances, dandles, and feeds
all day long. A very attractive person is that child-loving girl. She
likes flowers, and has a profusion of white stocks under her window, as
pure and del