Her husband, Dr. Brook, was a very extraordinary personage, and in no one instance bore the smallest resemblance to his partner. He was one of the finest figures for an artist that can be imagined, having a most impressive countenance, and hair as white as snow. He was one of the greatest _bon vivants_ of his time, had considerable conversation talents, and a very numerous circle of friends. But the deity of the table was almost the only one he worshipped with consistent devotion, and in pursuance of this object, he was a member of a club which was called Number Six. It consisted of six members; they met at six in the evening, and never parted till six in the morning. Notwithstanding his habitual indulgence in the festivities of the table, the old Gentleman lived to a very advanced age, and died within five days of his wife. The son was an amiable man, of no very remarkable talents, except for music; he was an admirable performer on the German flute. He was educated at St Paul’s school, from whence he went to Cambridge, and afterwards to reside on a small piece of preferment purchased for him by his mother. There he died early. Et sum pulchra licet, tabula imperfecta, reliquit Diffidens arti, me rude pictor opus. CHAPTER LXII. The manuscript now reverts to another, and a much more modern period, and speaks of an individual, surely not less entitled both to admiration and esteem, than any who have preceded. When the name of J⸺ B⸺ is introduced, we do not apprehend that our friend will incur the suspicion of being too lavish in his commendation, or will be censured for being too circumstantial in his communication. Unfortunately, there exist too few sources of intelligence. There is but little more to detail, than that at a very early period, and long before she was a candidate for literary fame and distinction, our Sexagenarian met her familiarly at the house of her very excellent, amiable, and accomplished brother, Dr. B.; as well as at other social places of intercourse, where literary people were made welcome. The great characteristic by which she was pre-eminently distinguished, was an unaffected diffidence and modest reserve; not at all prominent in conversation, always desirous of information, never making display of the powers she herself possessed, but courteously and agreeably inviting the unfolding of those sources of instruction, which she knew appertained to others.