The furniture in the house she said was a disgrace to the
great man, and she described a certain old carpet that had done service
so many years in the establishment that no one could tell what the
original colors were.
But the mansion most dear to her in that neighborhood was the residence
of her kind friends the Russells of Swallowfield Park. It is indeed a
beautiful old place, full of historical and literary associations, for
there Lord Clarendon wrote his story of the Great Rebellion. Miss
Mitford never ceased to be thankful that her declining years were
passing in the society of such neighbors as the Russells. If she were
unusually ill, they were the first to know of it and come at once to her
aid. Little attentions, so grateful to old age, they were always on the
alert to offer; and she frequently told me that their affectionate
kindness had helped her over the dark places of life more than once,
where without their succor she must have dropped by the way.
As a letter-writer, Miss Mitford has rarely been surpassed. Her "Life,
as told by herself in Letters to her Friends," is admirably done in
every particular. Few letters in the English language are superior to
hers, and I think they, will come to be regarded as among the choicest
specimens of epistolary literature.
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