I remember the ceremony of our being all dressed up in our best frocks to go out of town and pass the day with her ladyship, who was kind enough to stand godmother to my eldest sister. My mother was the most beautiful woman, and possessed the finest and most benevolent countenance, I have ever seen in my whole life. Her education had been carefully attended to by Lady Frederick, and she possessed a most excellent understanding; but, marrying so very young a man more than twenty years her senior, and being remarkably meek and gentle, she acquired such a habit of blind submission to his will, that at home she was more like our sister than our parent. She was powerless to contribute either to our good or our comfort in any one thing which did not suit my father's humour. Having no fortune to bestow on us, she gave us the best education in her power; and, what ought to have done us still more good, she ever set us the very best example; for she was not only virtuous, but patient, industrious, and invariably amiable in her temper. She was the mother of fifteen children, when she died lamented and respected by every one who knew her. Our home was truly uncomfortable; but my dearest mother ever made it the study of her life to contribute to the ease and welfare of her family. This, as I have said before, is not a complete confession; but nothing is stated of consequence to any individual which is not strictly true. When I called on Sophia I generally found two or three beaux talking nonsense to her. Among them, Henry De Roos was the most favoured. Sophia appeared to dislike Lord Deerhurst of all things, and complained that he was unusually sparing of soap and water at his toilette. "He dresses completely," said Sophia, "before he touches water; and, being equipped, he wets a very dirty hair-brush and draws it over his head; and this is what he calls washing it--and then, having thus washed his hands and face, he says that he feels fresh and comfortable." One day Deerhurst insisted on my accompanying him and Sophia in his curricle, to go out of town somewhere to dinner. "Three in a curricle?" said Sophia. "Oh, it is no matter at this time of the year;" Deerhurst replied. I inquired where we should dine. Deerhurst named some small place about eight miles from town, but I have forgotten what he called it. He took us to a common village pot-house, where nothing could be put on the table besides fried eggs and bacon. "Most excellent!" exclaimed Deerhurst, "an exquisite dish--and so very rural!" Our rural dinner was soon despatched; and, as I could not endure the strong smell of tobacco, which issued in copious fumes from the tap-room, I proposed returning to town as fast as possible. Sophia, who always agreed with everybody, was asked first by Deerhurst if eggs and bacon were not a delightful dish. She answered, "Very much so indeed." I then asked her if it were not enough to make us sick on such a hot day.