Lilford, Lady

To Lady Olivia Sparrow, [28? October 1819]

My health improves a little, but I still chiefly confine myself to my chamber for a pretence to avoid an influx of company. In my room I receive my particular friends. Yesterday Lady Lilford and her excellent daughters came.* spoke with delight of her visit to Brampton – Dear made me a long visit. He was delightfully entertaining with his Imperial communications,* his sanguine, not hopes, but certainties, of the near approach of the last days. While he is talking in his heaven /ly/ anticipations, sanguine as he is, one cannot help adopting his views, and hoping as he hopes. He has preached twenty Sermons and Speeches within a week or two!! At Bristol my friends say he was almost superhuman.* He kindly pressed me to go and spend the Winter at Stanstead,* as has done to pass it at Blaise Castle – but for old age sickness and sorrow there is nothing like home – Every paper I open of raises my ideas of her piety.* It is plain that she had expected her great change, for in her Pocketbook for this year,* she writes, 'this is the last account book I shall ever want'! she also says, – 'May every Year’s charities increase as becomes a Christian woman'! A few hours before her death when in exqui[site] [tear] pain, she said, on some one pitying her – [tear] I love my sufferings, they come from the [tear] and I love every thing that comes from him’. In her delirium she was always giving away cloaths or Shoes to poor Men and Women; tho this was in her wanderings, it showed the habit of her mind. I never knew a more devoted self denying creature.

To Lady Olivia Sparrow, [March 1820]

I have the kindest message to give you from who was here the other day with , daughter of my old friend .* [As] [tear] far as I can judge both Mother and daughter [are] [tear] become religious in earnest. The latter is mod[est] [tear] and diffident, but Lady Lilford’s family to whom I introduced her at Clifton think very well of her. She takes kindly to the husband and daughter of her late unfortunate Sister, who lived and died a fine Penitent.* She gave what is to me the most unequivocal sign of repentance, that of never desiring to be received or to come into the world.