not always meet with the approval of her husband. The following story is well known, but will bear repeating:--"On returning home late one evening, after a hard day's fag, Hunter unexpectedly found his drawing-room filled with musical professors, connoisseurs, and other idlers, whom Mrs. Hunter had assembled. He was greatly irritated, and walking straight into the room, addressed the astonished guests pretty much in the following strain: 'I know nothing of this kick-up, and I ought to have been informed of it beforehand; but as I am now returned home to study, I hope the present company will retire.' This intimation was, of course, speedily followed by an _exeunt omnes_." Mrs. Hunter was both a skilful musician and a graceful singer. The greater part of her poetry displays much sweetness of expression and force. A volume of her poems was issued in 1802, and attracted much favourable notice. Mrs. Hunter wrote the following epitaph for a monument to her husband to be placed in St. Martin's Church, London, where he was buried. The then rector of the parish, however, stated it was contrary to the rules to have any memorial placed in the church:-- "Here rests in awful silence, cold and still, One whom no common spark of genius fir'd; Whose reach of thought Nature alone could fill, Whose deep research the love of truth inspired. Hunter, if years of toil and watchful care, If the vast labours of a pow'rful mind To soothe the ills humanity must share, Deserve the grateful plaudits of mankind. Then to each human weakness buried here Envy would raise, to dim a name so bright, Those specks which on the orb of day appear, Take nothing from his warm and welcome light." In the year 1860, the remains of John Hunter were removed from the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields and placed in Westminster Abbey, to rest with the dust of England's most famous sons. The Council of the Royal College of Surgeons erected a tablet bearing a suitable inscription. Mrs. Hunter retired from society after the death of her husband, and found much enjoyment in literature. She had two children, a son and a daughter. On the 7th January, 1821, she died in London after a lingering illness, being nearly eighty years of age. Her name will long remain, and recall the life of one who added several popular songs to our literature. In popular anthologies her productions usually find a place. A Poet of the Poor: Mary Pyper.