wrote to him thus—“With the most sincere sympathy in all you have suffered—with the most perfect forgiveness of all you have said to me, there must nevertheless be an end to our acquaintance for ever. I respect your prejudices, but I also respect my own.” Far more intimate were her relations with Dr. Gisborne—a mysterious figure, with whom, in some tragic manner that we can only just discern, was enacted her final romance. His name—often in company with that of another physician, Dr. Warren, for whom, too, she had a passionate affection—occurs frequently among her papers; and her diary for December 17, 1794, has this entry:—“Dr. Gisborne drank tea here, and staid very late: he talked seriously of marrying—but not me.” Many years later, one September, she amused herself by making out a list of all the Septembers since her marriage, with brief notes as to her state of mind during each. The list has fortunately survived, and some of the later entries are as follows:—

1791. London; after my novel, Simple Story ... very happy.

1792. London; in Leicester Square ... cheerful, content, and sometimes rather happy....

1794. Extremely happy, but for poor Debby’s death.

1795. My brother George’s death, and an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Gisborne—not happy....

1797. After an alteration in my teeth, and the death of Dr. Warren—yet far from unhappy.

1798. Happy, but for suspicion amounting almost to certainty of a rapid appearance of age in my face....

1802. After feeling wholly indifferent about Dr. Gisborne—very happy but for ill health, ill looks, &c.

1803. After quitting Leicester Square probably for ever—after caring scarce at all or thinking of Dr. Gisborne ... very happy....

1806.... After the death of Dr. Gisborne, too, often very unhappy, yet mostly cheerful, and on my return to London nearly happy.

The record, with all its quaintness, produces a curious impression of stoicism—of a certain grim acceptance of the facts of life. It would have been a pleasure, certainly, but an alarming pleasure, to have known Mrs. Inchbald.

In the early years of the century, she gradually withdrew from London, establishing herself in suburban boarding-houses, often among sisters of charity, and devoting her days to the practice of her religion. In her early and middle life she had 

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