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 his grey hairs, must she have heard her father read the tale of how Ananias and Sapphira his wife were struck dead with a lie upon their lips;—dared she go and do likewise? To her the court of justice with its solemnities, and the awful appeal of its oath, must have seemed like a mighty temple. It was impossible that she could call upon that Book, which from the earliest infancy had been the object of her deepest reverence, to witness to the untruth. Yet with what more than Roman fortitude she prepares herself for suffering, toil, danger,—anything, so that she may but save her young sister! With what perfect simplicity she perseveres even unto the end! The kindness she meets with takes her by surprise; and worldly fortune leaves her the same kind, affectionate, and right-minded creature. Well may it be said that Jeannie Deans is a heroine in the highest and best sense of the word.***Scott seems to have delighted in scorning the usual accessories of interest, and yet how strongly is the interest excited!—it is the very triumph of common sense and rigid principle. 'We recognize A grandeur in the beating of her heart,' though that heart beat neither for love, fame, nor ambition."

We must linger yet a moment over the last poems of L. E. L. One of these, written just before her departure from England, was addressed to a long proved and invaluable friend,—one who, while appreciating her genius with the warmth of a judicious admirer, watched over her welfare with the care of a tender mother. The friendship of this lady and her family was indeed esteemed by Miss Landon as one of her greatest blessings. They were friends whose