"No; but I object to any one so devoting himself or herself to study as to lose sight of everything else. Except under peculiar circumstances, I consider very close and constant study as a waste of time, and an injury to the mind as well as the body."

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"Well, I have neither the time nor the inclination for such transgressions."

Well, what is there remarkable in all this? Why have I recorded it? Because, reader, it was important enough to give me a cheerful evening, a night of pleasing dreams, and a morning of felicitous hopes. Shallowbrained cheerfulness, foolish dreams, unfounded hopes, you would say; and I will not venture to deny it. Suspicions to that effect arose too frequently in my own mind. But our wishes are like tinder. The flint and steel of circumstances are continually striking out sparks, which vanish immediately, unless they chance to fall upon the tinder of our wishes; then they instantly ignite, and the flame of hope is kindled in a moment.

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But, alas! that very morning my flickering flame of hope was dismally quenched by a letter from my mother, which spoke so seriously of my father's increasing illness that I feared there was little or no chance of his recovery; and close at hand as the holidays were, I almost trembled lest they should come too late for me to meet him in this worlds Two days after, a letter from Mary told me his life was despaired of, and his end seemed fast approaching. Then, immediately, I sought permission to anticipate the vacation, and go without delay. Mrs. Murray stared, and wondered at the unwonted energy and boldness with which I urged the request, and thought there was no occasion to hurry, but finally gave me leave, stating, however, that there was no need to be in such agitation about the matter it might prove a false alarm after all; and if not, why, it was only in the common course of nature-we must all die sometimeand I was not to suppose myself the only afflicted person in the world," and concluding with saving I might ha

the phaeton to take me to O "And instead of repining, Miss Grey, be thankful for the privileges you enjoy. There's many a poor clergyman whose family would be plunged into ruin by the event of his death; but you, you see, have influential friends ready to continue their patronage, and to show you every consideration."

I thanked her for her consideration," and flew to the my/room to make some hurried preparations for my departure. My bonnet and shawl being on, and a few things hastily crammed into my largest trunk, I descended. But I might have done the work more leisurely, for no one else was in a hurry, and I had still a considerable va time to wait for the phaeton. At length it came to the door, and I was off. But, oh, what a dreary journey was that! how utterly different from my former pas sages homewards! Being too late for the last coach to

I had to hire a cab for ten miles, and then a car to take me over the rugged hills. It was half-past ten before I reached home. They were not in bed.

My mother and sister both met me in the passage, sad, silent, pale. I was so much shocked and terrorstricken that I could not speak, to ask the information I so much longed yet dreaded to obtain.

"Agnes!" said my mother, struggling to repress some strong emotion.

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O Agnes!" cried Mary, and burst into tears. How is he?" I asked, gasping for the answer. "Dead !!",

"

It was the reply I had anticipated, but the shock seemed none the less tremendous.

My father's mortal remains had been consigned to the tomb, and we, with sad faces and sombre garments.

sat lingering over the frugal breakfast-table, revolving plans for our future life. My mother's strong mind had not given way beneath even this affliction; her spirit, though crushed, was not broken. Mary's wish was that I should go back to Horton Lodge, and that our mother should come and live with her and Mr. Richardson at the vicarage. She affirmed that he wished it no less than herself, and that such an arrangement could not fail to benefit all parties; for my mother's society and experience would be of inestimable value to them, and they would do all they could to make her happy. But no arguments or entreaties could prevail; my mother was determined not to go. Not that she questioned, for a moment, the kind wishes and intentions of her daughter, but she affirmed that so long as God spared her health and strength she would make use of them to earn her own. livelihood, and be chargeable to no one, whether her dependence would be felt as a burden or not. If she could affords to reside as a lodger in vicarage, she would choose that house before all others as the place of her abode; but not being so circumstanced, she would never come under its roof, except as an occasional visitor, unless sickness or calamity should render her assistance really needful, or until age or infirmity made her incapable of maintaining herself. b grisembow 54

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"No, Mary," said she; "if Richardson and you have anything to spare, you must lay it aside for your family, and Agnes and I must gather honey for ourselves. Thanks to my having had daughters to educate, I have not forgotten my accomplishments. God willing, I will check this vain repining," she said, while the tears coursed one another down her cheeks in spite of her efforts; but she wiped them away, and resolutely shaking back her head, continued, "I will exert myself, and look out for a small house, commodiously situated in some populous but healthy district, where we will take a few young ladies to board and educate if we can get them→→→ and as many day pupils as will come, or as we can manage to instruct. Your father's relations and old friends

will be able to send us some pupils, or to assist us with their recommendations, no doubt. I shall not apply to my own. What say you to it, Agnes? Will you be willing to leave your present situation and try ??li

Quite willing, mamma; and the money I have saved will do to furnish the house. It shall be taken from the bank directly."

When it is wanted. We must get the house and settle on preliminaries first.” He more of Mary offered to lend the little she possessed, but my mother declined it, saying that we must begin von an economical plan, and she hoped that the whole or part of mine, added to what we could get by the sale of the furniture, and what little our dear papa had contrived to lay aside for her since the debts were paid, would be sufficient to last us till Christmas, when, it was hoped, something would accrue from our united labours. It was finally settled that this should be our plan, and that inquiries and preparations should immediately be set on foot; and while my mother busied herself with these, I should return to Horton Lodge at the close of my four weeks' vacation, and give notice for my final departure when things were in train for the speedy commencement of our school. >

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We were discussing these affairs on the morning I have mentioned, about a fortnight after my father's death, when a letter was brought in for my mother, on beholding which the colour mounted to her face, lately pale enough with anxious watchings and excessive sorrow. “From my father!! murmured she, as she hastily tore off the cover. It was many years since she had heard from any of her own relations before. Naturally wondering what the letter might contain, I watched her countenance while she read it, and was somewhat surprised to see her bite her lip and knit her brows as if in anger. When she had done she somewhat irreverently cast it on the table, saying with a scornful smile,→→→

"Your grandpapa has been so kind as to write to me. He says he has no doubt I have long repented of my

' unfortunate marriage,' and if I will only acknowledge this, and confess I was wrong in neglecting his advice, and that I have justly suffered for it, he will make a lady of me once again—if that be possible, after my long degradation—and remember my girls in his will. Get my desk, Agnes, and send these things away. I will answer the letter directly. But, first, as I may be depriving you both of a legacy, it is just that I should tell you what I that he mean to say. I shall say mistaken in supposIing that I can regret the birth of my daughters (who have been the pride of my life, and are likely to be the comfort of my old age), or the thirty years I have passed in the company of my best and dearest friend; that, had our misfortunes been three times as great as they were (unless they had been of my bringing on), I should still the more rejoice to have shared them with your father, and administered what consolation I was able; and had his sufferings in illness been ten times what they were, I could not regret having watched over and laboured to relieve them that, if he had married a richer wife, misfortunes and trials would no doubt have come upon him still; while I am egotist enough to imagine that no other woman could have cheered him through them so well not that I am superior to the rest, but I was made for him, and he for me; and I can no more repent the hours, days, years of happiness we have spent together, and which neither could have had without the other, than I can the privilege of having been his nurse in sickness and his comfort in affliction.

Will this do, children? or shall I say we are all very sorry for what has happened during the last thirty years, I and my daughters wish they had never been born; but since they have had that misfortune, they will be thankful for any trifle their grandpapa will be kind enough to bestow ?ib, 25 045 20

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Of course we both applauded our mother's resolution. Mary cleared away the breakfast things, I brought the desk; the letter was quickly written and dispatched; and from that day we heard no more of our grandfather, till