Memory altogether was a faculty assiduously cultivated. It was the custom for the family to gather round the fire on Sunday evenings, and for one after the other to repeat a sacred poem. When they had been separated for a time, special interest attached to the items each had added in the interval to his, or her, repertory. No doubt the custom began with the learning of hymns, but they seem for the most part to have been good hymns, and round this nucleus there gathered an extraordinarily varied collection,—fine passages from Isaiah and the Psalms, poems by Trench, Dean Alford, Longfellow, Wordsworth and many more. It was said of the younger daughter in her later life that, if she had been shipwrecked on a desert island with nothing but pens and paper in addition to the actual means of livelihood, she could gradually have provided a priceless library from memory alone. A few of her letters at this time have been preserved. [1851]. “DEAR DADDY, A most extraordinary thing happened this morning; the crew of a Portuguese ship put up in the masthead figures representing Pontius Pilate and Judas and exactly as 10 struck on the pier clock they thumped them down into the sea! Now was not this Popish trash? A respectable English jolly tar told Miss B. all about it and added how happy we were to be taught better; now I think that’s a right good English spirit. The first grand steamer has just come in. I have a very bad cold and have not been out. Miss B. brought me some licorice for my cough and I am to have treacle posset tonight so I could not possibly be taken more care of and no doubt it will be quite well before 30th. You musn’t think Miss B. had _anything_ to do with my talking about tractarianism, indeed afterwards she forbade it,—it was all my fault. I’m writing a history of our family entitled ‘History of the illustrious family of Blakes from 70 B.C. to 1080 A.D.’ Dear Daddy how I _do_ love you, if I could ‘climb those knees and kiss that face’ I’d be happy enough, indeed I’m very happy here but home sweet home is better than anything else. S. B. Do send me a _large_ seal of your crest.” Her Mother, however, is always her main confidant. “I’m in a scrape just now Mama,” she writes on April 5th, 1851, “I long to be at Home, home sweet home there’s no place like home, no person like Mummy and no kiss like Mummy’s cuddle and no knees like Papa’s and no player at Prisoner and Judge Selling or any other game in the world like Papa, no one that can put me in a good humour like Daddy and Mummy! Oh! nothing like what everything is at home _anywhere_ else, in all Europe Asia Africa and America no place is like home, sweet sweet home.... Love to dear Papa and yourself 3000000 kisses. I always kiss the envelope. Please write very soon. I am your affectionate and I _hope_ dutiful Sophy.”