The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1855-02-17
DEATH OF MISS MILFORD.

Fr"n' he B'stn Tuasc,1t.
Mary Russell Milford is dead The sad
brought by the l,st steamer from
England. will fall on many Il heart in Amcri-
ca with peculiar interest. She has so long
.ccn permitted 20 gladden. lie worl,, hy her
cheerful picturcs of home rural life. that her
loss will be felt everywhere. No female wri-
ter of our day has been so loved as Mary
Milford. To the few who have seen her face
to face, She can never be torSottcn and to
the many who have never beard the sound
of her voice and have known her only thro
a friend She was 30 good and kind: 50 sum
ny IN her noble character: 50 warm and con-
slant in her friendships. that those who knew
her best, will mourn her loss .hc longest. and
feel most deeply that one Of the purcst and
best OF her sex has passed away.
No writer was ever more tondly respected
among the English common people, the peas
antry of the land, than Miss Milford Who
ever has had the happiness TO accompany her
about the green lanes OF her own country
vii; not fail to remember tie frcuucr,Iv ii,t
cd bat and modest curt>v by the roadside
One summer day the writer of this brief no.
ticc rode with her to crickct-match some
distance from he: cottage, and when her car
ragc cane upon the green, the came was
suspended that the players might flock about
her and pay their respects. With what an
interest She inquired about the ramc, and
how knowingly She cha,tcd with the vounr
people assembled to greet her, her companion
/ that day must always remember.
So excellent a woman, 50 richly endowed
a genius, has seldom gladdencd the world.
and now t hat her beautiful name has been
borne away among the ANGELS, we look in
VAN for another to fill the place She has left
on earth. The story Of her lie is written in
her works. Beautiful as summers lav
flowed on the current of her existence and
although some passing clouds briefly obscurcd
the sunlight OH her pathway, her wears had
been more touched with iov than snrrnw =
in the little town Of Alrc>.ord in Hampshire,
at Christmas time in the year ,S?, she was
born. In her quiet little cottage in the lcaiv
arv, $40. She died Her liic will be written
hv some LOVING hand. chosen from the ranks
Of friendship. aud her correspondence. reach
ing through ha.t century, viii be published
10 ,orht at the same time
Her first prose book. Our Village" Xix,
spring, lett no corner Of the land untouched
and TIE bcs; spirits of England iiockcd ,hou
her at once, with words of praise TaIlour,l
De Quincy. Wilson. Wordsworth. and inlcc,
nearly every great name in her time. is .ouu,
inscribed in the rich catalogue of her friend
ships. Walter Savage Lan,!or only 4 few
months since addressed to her some cxuu>it
lines, tull of tenderness and heart poetry
Among her own sex, Mrs. IIcmanS loved he
as a sister. and Mrs. browning sat at her fec
and listened like child
Miss Milford was cmincntlv a beautiful We
man, her fac retaining 70 Tie last an expires
sion Of ailectonatc interest and chccrij
good nature. The portrait painted by Joh
Lucas in 1852 is fath.ul likeness. Her ma.
ncr was full Of winnin. Kindness, and I'll
very soul Of melody seemed native in he
voice. Her merry lau.h rang through he
cottage Ike bird muse. and when She read ;
loud a tavoitc poem her voice at such tim,
always takin. kind of chant-it was lik
u, listening to the rccitativc of fine singer
. Her last letter contained the sad rrcSao
=, Of the coming on OF death, but she spoke o
W her approaching end with touchin. >inplic
" and even chccrtllncSS You Will not :,
H. your Old friend when you come to Englal
90 again." She writes, for shall not bc ali,
in the spring, but they viii tell YOU where
am >ccping.'
at What pill grim standing over her crave wi
e. not breathe that wish SO tcclin.ly cxprcssl
- by one OF our poets on another occasion,
= "Grccm bc tlc turf above thee
n. for OF no one was it ever more truly SAID
cl writtcn,-
c> None knew thee h'l. g. loyc thee,
Nor Mamc, thee bu; 10 praise