Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1851-10-09

orally known: on the present occasion he will be
but incidentally referred to, and only in connec-
tlon with his venerable friend Miss Joanna Bail
lie.
The American Literary man, who NAV have
visited England, may possibly have sojourned at
the pleasant village of Hampstead Apart from
lis picturesque beauty, it has literary associations
which cannot fail to make it an attractive spot TO
lovers of books. In his beautiful little monoIy
on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, WoRps-
WORTH says.
'sOur very life 10 rowned with sadness, .-E
Like London with its Ozark wreath; d.
O'e, which, with thee o Crabbe, with wonder.
We gazed from uampstead's breezy he eath."
But this heath was a favored resort of other
Poets than Wordsworth and Crabbe In the CEN
tire of the expanse of green, is hollow, in which,
sheltered by empowering trees, are some secluded
houses. In one Of these cottages Of the Vale of
Health. as il is termed, LEIGH HUNT long resided.
and there wrote many of his best produc TONS
In the same dwelling poor KEATS for time, took
up his abode, and his magnificent 'Ode to Night
ingale" was in all probability penned there, as
the lanes and groves of Hampstead, are of nights
vocal with the songs of the bird of evening. In
another house, WILLIAM HAzLIrr, the Essayist
and critic, abode. Not far off, awelt SAMUEL
TAYLOR CoLERIpGE, the ''old man eloquent -
and last though not least in the list of the gifted
ones who chose this locality as residence lived
the leading Poetess of England, Miss Baie.
Some two years since, gladly escaped for a
few weeks from the hustle and smoke of London,
and pitched my tent, in imitation of my be:ters,
on Hampstead Heath. The reader NAV be sure
that did not fail TO visit KEATS room and Uaz-
LET'S study. These Of course interested me,
but what gave the higher qualification was the
sight of lring luinlnary in the shape of the sub
ject of this pen-and-lnklins.
The village of Hampstead, like all other fash
ionable villages, has circulating library. which
like every other circulating library in the uni
verse, IS sort of gossipping shop. In this EN-
when an elderly lady entered it. Let the attempt
sketch of her
She was a little old woman, much bowed by
age; heaTIy ninety years had passed over her
head, and, IS might be expected, decrepid A
plain black bonnet of the '.poke'' sort, that is.
somewhat resembling Q ,aker's. almost con-
ceaed her face. A plain black silk dress hung
IN loose folds around her shrunken form, and her
feeble hand grasped crutch-headed cane When
she sat down l was enabled TO see her counten-
tenance. 1t was very striking. Over her fore
head gray hairs were parted, mich more be-
coming fashion, imagine. than the one some el-
derly ladies adopt, whose vanity has out-iiyed
their beauty, and who sport rnglets. The fore
head itself was broad, but not remarkable for
height, and it was furrowed transversely with
deep lines. The eyes were dark and vivacious,
SoUTHEy's, the nose was large and acqnine.
and across its sharp bridge was stretched sort of
parchment colored skin. The mouth was small.
thin-lpped and decisive, and the chin small and
double.
Now, ] should not so particularly have noticed
the old lady had not the Librarian who knew me
to be curious in such matters, privately writer
on slip of paper which he handed to me. the
name of the ancient lady referred to; it was no
other than Joanna Raillie
| had seen her many years before, but she was
now so mach altered that | shonld hardly have
recognized her On the former occasion, too,
beheld her seated in the blaze of great theatre
the night of the first performance of Talfourd's
play of sion" No wonder was it, them that in
the little shrvelled body before me, failed to
discover the authoress of the powerful tragedy
of '.De Montfort
1t appeared that the great authoress had order
ed book relating to the poetesses of England.
This volume was handed to her by the librarian
wrapped up in paper, but she requested him to
remove the envelope. This he did, and observ-
ed that til. old lady, after putting her specta-
cles, sought out that portion of the book which
treated of her own productions. The article oc-
cupied seven or eight pages, but she seemed to
read it with as much curiosity, eagerness and
anxiety. as a young author might be supposed TO
exhibit when perusing criticism on his frs. pro-
duction. Apparently, the perusa afforded her
much qualification, for when she had come to an
end she smiled graciously and observed to the
bookseller that she was ''very well spoken off,
Then the old lady with much ado, drew from her
little bag her purse, paid for her purchase and
quilted the shop.
Not long after this, gentleman who had writ
ten a poem on Windermere Lake, sent me copy
thereof, with request that would forward ito
Joanna Bailiie. | did so, but instead of sending.
took it. The celebrated authoress resided in a
house on Hollybush Hill, with her sister Agnes.
also maiden lady, and thither | one afternoon
bent my steps.
The house was large and somewhat gloomy,
and an air of strange quiet seemed TO pervade the
place, as | waited in the entrance hail 10 be an
nonncea. Presently the neat maid-servant re-
turned, and requesting me TO follow her, conduct
ed me to parlor, in which sat two old ladies at
work. They were Joanna ard Agnes Baillie.
l need not again describe the features of the
ancient poetess. A plain cap now covered her
grey head, and lavender colored shawl without
pattern was neatly placed over her shoulders.
She looked quite the old lady, but not in the least
like that prim being which we are apt to- suppose
an old maid to be. She very coarteoasly receiv-
ed me, and presented her with the volume had
brought.
We sooa fell into conversation, which. a. might
be expected, was Of purely literary char
acter. OF Wordsworth, then living, she spoke
with enthusiasm. 'He always makes this house
his home whenever he visits London, she said
A bust OF the poet stood on bracket, and an oil
painting of him, by pckerssill, presented to her
BY the artist. Portraits of Byron, Sco,t--who
had visited her on his last Journey Southwark
and of James Montgomery, adorned the pannel-
cd walls of the room, on which hung also some
choice paintings BY eminent modern wislders of
the brush, most Of them presentations.
As is almost always found to be the case with
persons Of genius, Miss Baillie was n, far re-
BILE for a person to be. She spoke less Of herself
than Of her great contemporaries, and when
ventured the remark that she was happy in having
lived to ENJOY her fame, she adreitly changed the
conversation, rs though her modesty forbade her
10 dwell, ON self. Her anecdotes were piquant
and plcnty--but unluckilv they were Of too per-
sonal nature for publication Just now On
some future occasion, when certain parties can