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 ■ THE WIFE OP THOMAS CARLYLE. 175 while her poor little mistress, repenting too late, stood helplessly by, shrieking till the household hastened to the spot. While she was yet a child she began to write, and at fourteen she had composed a tragedy, rather inflated in style, but of great promise. She continued for many years to write poetry, and her two dearest friends, Irving and Garry le, both expected her to shine in literature. That she possessed the talent for such a career her clear, graphic style, its witty allusions, and the appreciative humor of her letters sufficiently attest. She was still a young girl when her father, Dr. Welsh, a highly accomplished physician, was prostrated by a fever caught while attending an old woman in the town of Haddington. His disease being contagious, he gave orders to exclude his daughter from the room. She forced her way to his side. He sent her out, and she passed the night lying before his door. His death, her first great sorrow, was well nigh insupportable to her, and perhaps permanently impaired her health. " A father so loved and mourned," says Carlyle, " I have never seen. To the end of her life his title even to me was '-He' and 'jffi'm.' Not above twice or thrice, did she ever mention — and then in a quiet, slow tone— -my father^ His death left her an heiress ; all his property except a small annuity to his widow having been bequeathed to her. She was young, agreeable, brilliant, rich (for the time and place), and beautiful. She was fair, with black hair and black eyes " shining with soft mockery," as Froude describes them, and an irregular nose, in harmony with the satirical expression of her face. Her forehead was white and broad, her figure " slight, airy, and per- fectly graceful." We cannot wonder that this young lady was blessed