A great painter would have reproduced it, a great poet have rendered the impression.

Nothing short of the greatest.

That is odd to say of one so simple as she.

But when accidents call up her reserves, you see mountain heights where mists were--she is actually glorified.

Her friend--I do believe a friend--the Mr.Woodseer you are to remember meeting somewhere--a sprained ankle--has a dozen similes ready for what she is when pain or happiness vivify her.