year she appears to us like a beautiful
spirit with an astral form; or she would, did we not perceive that this
beautiful form is being racked with pain. No wonder some one has asked,
"Where then was the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children?"

But this brave spirit did not much complain. She had a will as strong as
her father's, and felt a Spartan pride in doing all that he asked and a
little more. She studied, wrote, translated, read and thought.

And to spur her on and to stimulate her, Mr. Barrett published several
volumes of her poems. It was immature, pedantic work, but still it had a
certain glow and gave promise of the things yet to come.

One marked event in the life of Elizabeth Barrett occurred when Hugh
Stuart Boyd arrived at Hope End. He was a fine, sensitive, soul--a poet by
nature and a Greek scholar of repute. He came on Mr. Barrett's invitation
to take Mr. Barrett's place as tutor. The young girl was confined to her
bed through the advice of physicians; Boyd was blind.

Here at once was a bond of sympathy. No doubt this break in the monotony
of her life gave fresh courage to the fair young woman. The gentle,
sightless poet relaxed the severe hours of study. Instead of grim digging
in musty tomes they talked: he sat by her bedside holding the thin hands
(for the blind see by the sense of touch), and they talked for hours--or
were silent, which served as well. Then she would read to the blind man
and he would recite to her, for he had the blind Homer's memory. She grew
better, and the doctors said that if she had taken her medicine regularly,
and not insisted on getting up and walking about as guide for the blind
man, she might have gotten entirely well.

In that fine poem, "Wine of Cyprus," addressed to Boyd, we see how she
acknowledges his goodness. There is no wine equal to the wine of
friendship; and love is only friendship--plus something else. There is
nothing so hygienic as friendship.

Hell is a separation, and Heaven is only a going home to our friends.

Mr. Barrett's fortune was invested in sugar-plantations in Jamaica.
Through the emancipation of the blacks his fortune took to itself wings.
He had to give up his splendid country home--to break the old ties. It was
decided that the family should move to London. Elizabeth had again taken
to her bed. The mattress on which she lay was borne down the steps by four
men; one man might have carried her alone, for she weighed only
eigh