... Her face, instead of beauty, possessed a sweet benignity, and at times flashed into absolute brilliancy. She was older than I had imagined, for her hair, once fair, was gray, and unmistakable lines of care and thought were on the low, broad brow.... Dressed in black velvet, with point lace on her hair, and repeated at throat and wrists, she made me think at once of Romola and Dorothea Brooke.... She talked as she wrote; in descriptive passages, with the same sort of humor, and the same manner of linking events by analogy and inference. [Sidenote: Her surroundings.] The walls were covered with pictures. I remember Guido’s Aurora, Michael Angelo’s prophets, Raphael’s sibyls, while all about were sketches, landscapes and crayon drawings, gifts from the most famous living painters, many of whom are friends of the house. A grand piano, open and covered with music, indicated recent and continual use. MRS. ANNIE DOWNS: ‘A Visit to George Eliot.’ _The Congregationalist_, May 28th, 1879. * * * * * [Sidenote: Account of a visit to George Eliot.] [Sidenote: Her gracious welcome.] [Sidenote: Her voice.] No one who had ever seen her could mistake the large head (her brain must be heavier than most men’s) covered with a mass of rich auburn hair. At first I thought her tall; for one could not think that such a head could rest on an ordinary woman’s shoulders. But, as she rose up, her figure appeared but of medium height. She received me very kindly. In seeing, for the first time, one to whom we owed so many happy hours, it was impossible to feel towards her as a stranger. All distance was removed by her courtesy. Her manners are very sweet, because very simple, and free from affectation. To me her welcome was the more grateful as that of one woman to another. There is a sort of freemasonry among women, by which they understand at once those with whom they have any intellectual sympathy. A few words, and all reserve was gone. “Come, sit by me on this sofa,” she said; and instantly, seated side by side, we were deep in conversation. It is in such intimacy that one feels the magnetism of a large mind informed by a true woman’s heart; then, as the soul shines through the face, one perceives its intellectual beauty. No portrait can give the full expression of the eye, any more than of the voice. Looking into that clear, calm eye, one sees a transparent nature, a soul of goodness and truth, an impression which is deepened as you listen to her soft and gentle tones. A low voice is said to be an excellent thing in woman. It is a special charm of the most finely-cultured English ladies. But never did a sweeter voice fascinate a listener--so soft and low, that one must almost bend to hear. [Sidenote: Conversation.] [Sidenote: Tact.] [Sidenote: Earnestness.]