Before, however, that event took place, one which had still greater and happier influence on our artist's professional career and domestic happiness occurred: in 1798 he had the good fortune to fall in love at first sight, and, after much coy reluctance on the lady's part, to secure the heart and hand of the amiable, sprightly, and accomplished Amelia Alderson, the only child of a Norwich physician, and a relative of H. P. Briggs, R.A. They were married on the 8th of May ('Flora Day,' as it is called in Cornwall), she being then twenty-nine years of age, and her husband thirty-seven. She was much courted in the fashionable circles of London for her literary and conversational talents, and numbered Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Mackintosh, Wordsworth and Sydney Smith among her friends and acquaintances. When she became a Quakeress (and I fancy that at heart she was always more or less of one) in 1825, she endeavoured to recall her novels; but copies of them are still to be met with in many of our libraries. Indeed, she tells us that she would never have published at all had it not been for the strong wish of her husband that she should do so. As regards her novels, or tales, as they should rather be called, 'She can do nothing well,' says Jeffrey, 'that requires to be done with formality, and therefore has not succeeded in copying either the concentrated force of weighty and deliberate reason, or the severe and solemn dignity of majestic virtue. To make amends, however, she represents admirably everything that is amiable, generous and gentle.' Of her poetic vein, the following specimen may perhaps be admitted here:-- LINES WRITTEN IN 1799, BY MRS. OPIE TO HER HUSBAND, ON HIS HAVING PAINTED THE PORTRAIT OF HER FRIEND, MRS. TWISS. 'Hail to thy pencil! well its glowing art Has traced those features painted on my heart; Now, though in distant scenes she soon will rove, Still shall I here behold the friend I love-- Still see that smile, "endearing, artless, kind," The eye's mild beam that speaks the candid mind, Which sportive oft, yet fearful to offend, By humour charms, but never wounds a friend. 'But in my breast contending feelings rise, While this loved semblance fascinates my eyes; Now, pleased I mark the painter's skilful line, And now, rejoice the skill I mark is _thine_: And while I prize the gift by thee bestow'd, My heart proclaims, I'm of the giver proud. Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife, And now the _friend_ exults, and now the WIFE.'