r in their person that every hostile weapon
levelled against them was immediately turned into some agreeable
present. Stones became balls of silk--arrows, flowers--swords, feathers,
etc. Even so it is with Lady Placid. The grossest insult that could be
offered she would construe into an elegant compliment; the very crimes
of others she seems to consider as so much incense offered up at the
shrine of her own immaculate virtue. I'm certain she thinks she deserves
to be canonised for having kept out of Doctors' Commons. Never is any
affair of that sort alluded to that she does not cast such a triumphant
look towards her husband, as much as to say, 'Here am I, the paragon of
faithful wives and virtuous matrons!' Were I in his place, I should
certainly throw a plate at her head. And here, you may take this passing
remark--How much more odious people are who have radical faults, than
those who commit, I do not say positive crimes, but occasional
weaknesses. Even a noble nature may fall into a great error; but what is
that to the ever-enduring pride, envy, malice, and conceit of a little
mind? Yes, I would at any time rather be the fallen than the one, so
exult over the fall of another. Then, as a mother, she is, if possible,
still more meritorious a woman (this is the way she talks): A woman has
nobly performed her part to her country, and for posterity, when she has
brought a family of fine healthy children into the world. 'I can't agree
with you,' I reply 'I think many mothers have brought children into the
world who would have been much better out of it. A mother's merit must
depend solely upon how she brings up her children (hers are the most
spoiled brats in Christendom). 'There I perfectly agree with you, Lady
Emily. As you observe, it is not every mother who does her duty by her
children. Indeed, I may say to you, it is not everyone that will make
the sacrifices for their family I have done; but thank God! I am richly
repaid. My children are everything I could wish them to be!' Everything
of hers, as a matter of course, must be superior to every other
person's, and even what she is obliged to share in common with others
acquires some miraculous charm in operating upon her. Thus it is
impossible for anyone to imagine the delight she takes in bathing; and
as for the sun, no mortal can conceive the effect it has upon her. If
she was to have the plague she would assure you it was owing to some
peculiar virtue in her blood; a