his home was gone, and life for him had describe, in seeing her growing partiality lost its brightness. In the first anguish for Miss Franklin, whose gentle and undewhich her loss occasioned, he refused all monstrative manners won Amy's love, comfort; but succeeding months brought whilst my own vehement caresses were recalmer thoughts; his children, her children, ceived with careless indifference. remained to him; for their sake he would ed all the torments of jealousy, for Amy's rouse himself, and devote the remainder of love was the only thing on earth I really his life to their improvement, and strive, by cared for: yet, in the midst of my unhappiredoubled tenderness, to supply the loss ness, I do not think that I was ever unjust they had sustained. Selfishness was for- to Miss Franklin. I never blamed her, for eign to his nature, and even in grief he for- I felt her superiority; and while I mourned got himself in the desire to benefit those Amy's preference, I could not but acknowaround him. The house gradually resumed ledge how wise it was. I think few people its cheerfulness; and though we never understand how deeply and silently a child ceased to feel the change that had fallen on may suffer; childhood is regarded as the our home, yet we were once again a merry, gay, buoyant period of life; and those alone happy family. who make children their study, can tell what a world of joy and sorrow, of struggle and suffering, lies in their little hearts. Insignificant as the events of their babylife may seem to the matured mind of man, they are all-important in themselves, as the means by which the child is trained for the coming duties of life. From this want of entering into their feelings, I have seen many a one punished for sullenness, when a word of sympathy in its little grief would have saved its temper from the ordeal of unjust correction. At this period of my life, had my silence and irritability been misconstrued, how might my character have suffered ! But Miss Franklin read my heart, traced each feeling to its source, and checked the evil that was springing. "Fanny," she said one day when I had long sat moodily at work, "I wonder what you love best in the world?"

As I grew older, my father saw the necessity of placing me under the control of some judicious lady: the rough and fearless girl, the playmate of many brothers, needed the guidance of a female friend. And never was choice more fortunate than that made for me: Miss Franklin became a blessing to us all. Quietly and gently she assumed the management of the household, and we soon unhesitatingly obeyed; for we loved as well as respected her. Even the impetuous spirit of my brothers yielded to her mild control. I never remember any contention between them; she seemed at once to command their obedience, and to guide them as she chose. With me, no authority was needed: I followed wherever she led, an unquestioning and devoted pupil: to be near her, to listen to her words of kindness and instruction, became the chief pleasure of my life. I had dreaded her arrival, and with childish waywardness had determined not to love her myself; and above all things, not to allow her to tyrannize over my darling Amy. This sister had already become the first object of my life: I loved her passionately, and had constituted myself her teacher, and controller of all that concerned her; I therefore looked upon Miss Franklin as an unwelcome interloper, a rival to my power over Amy. I met her with little courtesy, and am afraid showed very plainly my predetermined intention of disliking her. It was not, however, in the power of mortal to resist Miss Franklin; at least, it was far beyond mine; and I not only yielded myself submissively to her guidance, but, what was far more difficult, learned by degrees to see her gaining influence over Amy. This child loved her with an energy peculiar to her nature, and I felt at times a pang I cannot

"Oh, Miss Franklin, how can you ask? Amy, to be sure: I love Amy better than the whole world beside."

"Jam

sure you think so; but tell me what you mean by love? I think our definitions of the word would differ strangely."

I remained silent, for indeed I did not understand her question. My love for Amy seemed a part of my very life; and I could no more define the feeling, than I could have analysed the beams of light which shone from the bright sun above our heads. I looked up inquiringly, I believe, for Miss Franklin continued, "Your love for Amy springs from love of yourself, not from pure devotion to your sister: you love her as your plaything, as the creature over whom you have a fancied right. That readiness to yield our own wishes to promote the happiness of others, which I regard as an essential attribute of pure disinterested

love, I do not see in you. When Amy is happy with me, and in the simplicity of her heart shows a preference for my company to yours, a cloud gathers on your brow, and the color mounts to your cheeks. Dearest Fanny, this is not love; it is selfishness."

I was deeply mortified, and Miss Franklin, who never willingly wounded the feelings of any one, dropped the subject. I never, however, forgot her words, and as I grew older, I felt them influence my actions more and more. Amy's welfare and happiness became dearer to me than my own, and gradually I learned to feel the bliss of resigning my own desire to hers. It was Miss Franklin's continual study, as we grew older, to render us dependent on each other for amusement and happiness; and often she would say, "Fanny, when I leave you, you must be Amy's guardian friend; she needs your care; the gay volatile child cannot yet stand alone; to you she must look for everything." I have since felt that the chief aim Miss Franklin had in view in all her instruction, was to give a right direction to the love I bore my sister, to render me a safe guide and judicious friend to the creature whose beauty and talent already threatened to be dangers in her path. Amy was the idol of the house; caressed and spoiled by all, she manifested the faults peculiar to a child thus situated. To make me aware of these faults, to point out to me the perils that beset her, was Miss Franklin's constant endeavor. It was, as if a foreshadowing of the peculiar trials that were to be our portion was ever present to her soul. Alas! how soon were my prudence and wisdom to be tested.

to me. He talked of his early days, of my mother, of the unbounded happiness they had enjoyed together, of her death, and all that he had since suffered. The thought of rejoining her was ever present to his mind; and as I listened to his hopeful trust in the mercy of God, and his glad anticipation of a reunion with her he had lost, I learned the best lessons of religion.

With his own thankfulness to depart and be at rest, however, mingled many an anxious feeling for his daughters. "My boys," he would say, "must fight their own way in the world; for them I am content; but for you, Fanny, and for my little Amy, I often tremble: yet why distrust our Father's love? When I am gone, will He not still remain, an all-sufficient Friend, the orphan's sure Protector? Trust in His goodness, my child, He will never fail you.

Then he would talk to me of Amy-that precious legacy bequeathed by his dying wife; and with tears in his eyes enti eat me never to leave her; to watch over her, and be her guide, adding these words, which sank deep into my soul, and became the spring of my future actions, "Live for your sister; study her happiness before your own: thus when we meet in Heaven, you may present her to the mother who died in giving her birth, with the joyful consciousness that you have faithfully fulfilled your mission on earth."

Soon after this my father died: the lonely desolation of the weeks that followed his decease I will not describe. I was stunned by the blow; but soon recognising the importance of my task, I roused myself to fulfil the duties which now devolved upon My father's health had been long failing. me. Had it not been for my excellent In spite of his efforts to shake off grief, it friend Miss Franklin, all my efforts would had slowly done its work: he was no longer have failed: she was my support, my counyoung when my mother died, and the rava- sellor in the painful arrangements which ges made in his constitution by sorrow for followed our bereavement, she spared me her loss were never repaired. He gradually every needless pang; and consulting with became feebler, and Miss Franklin did not my brothers, she arranged our future plan conceal from me the knowledge that death of life. It was of course necessary to quit was fast approaching. My brothers had all the vicarage immediately, as the new inquitted our home: one by one they had cumbent was impatient to take possession. taken their places in the world. Two were The property destined for us was invested already in India, one at college, and the in the hands of my eldest brother, a meryoungest was studying engineering in a dis- chant in Calcutta, and had been the nucleus. tant town. I was therefore the only child of his present immense fortune. The interleft to comfort my father's declining days. est was carefully remitted to us, and as I look back with melancholy pleasure to far as pecuniary means went, we were the hours I spent with him at this period. without anxiety. A pretty cottage, which I was old enough to be his friend and com- had formed part of my mother's fortune, panion, and he loved to pour out his heart! was chosen for our future residence. With

an aching heart I left the home of my happy childhood in spite of my better reason, a foreboding of coming evil seized upon me; and as I entered the carriage that was to convey us to our new abode, I felt as if all my happiness were left behind in the dear old vicarage we were quitting. It was not so, however; though sorrow and difficulty awaited me, and long years of self-denial and labor were in store for me, yet peace and content lay beyond. In the severe school of adversity, my spirit gained strength and vigor; and the blessedness which accompanies every act of self-sacrifice, the peace which attends every conscientious effort to perform the painful duties of life, were eventually to be my portion.

utter hopelessness over the fate before us. All passed in rapid vision before my mind: poverty, with all its attendant miseries; poverty, not for myself alone-that I could have faced-but for Amy, my sister, the child of so much tender love-the gay, bright, sunny creature, whose step bounded over the earth as if it yielded naught but flowers-must the chill hand of penury blight her young life, and wither ere its prime that bud of promise? The thought had agony in it. Then did my father's solemn injunction recur to me, nerving my heart to bear, and strengthening my soul to do, all that might be demanded from me. In that moment I bound myself to shrink from no effort, to dare all things, so that We were so far happy as to retain our my beloved sister might be shielded from dear friend with us for some years, until I the impending evil. I prayed for strength; was old enough to take upon myself the full I implored Heaven to guide and aid me in responsibility of directing our little house- my firm resolve. As I rose from my knees, hold. I had attained my twentieth year the sound of her sweet voice came from the when she left us. She had, for our sake, garden beneath. "Fanny, sister," it said, postponed her marriage with one to whom what keeps you away from me so long? she had been long and devotedly attached, I am waiting for you.' I hastened to join and whose urgent and reiterated claim upon her; and with all the calmness I could her she felt it wrong longer to resist. Her command, told her of our misfortune. The loss was irreparable; but we could not op- gentle girl scarcely comprehended the pose her departure. In quitting Amy and meaning of my words; but seeing the sormyself, she had the happiness of seeing us rowful expression of my face, she laid her united in the closest bonds of affection: head upon my shoulder, and with her sisters in hearts and soul, firm and faithful sweetest smile said, "We may be poor, friends. Her lessons had not been lost on dear Fanny, but we shall still be together: either of us. Amy was the joy and pride poverty cannot separate us." I clasped of my life. Often as I looked at her, I her to my heart: No, Amy, our hearts thought how easy was the duty my father can never be disunited." I already felt had bequeathed me, and recalled the so- that we must part, and her unconscious lemnity of his manner with a smile. Alas, words pierced me to the soul. alas for the weakness of human nature! the struggle was yet to come.

Miss Franklin had not quitted us more than a few months, and we were already planning a visit to our friend in her new home, when one morning a letter was put into my hand, the contents of which struck dismay to my heart. Hastily folding it, I rose, and with all the self-command I could assume, walked to my own room. There I again read the letter: it was all true. In plain legible characters I saw that ruinworldly rain-stared us in the face. It contained the news of the death of our brother in India, and at the same time announced to us that, as he died insolvent, all remittances would henceforth cease. The business-like tone of the letter struck a chill sense of the extent of our calamity home to my very heart. I buried my face in my hands, and for a while brooded in

I wrote to our dearest friend, now Mrs. Wentworth, begging her advice. The next day brought her to us, and again she stood between us and sorrow. She saw that we could no longer keep up our little establishment, and wisely counselled us to give it up at once. She arranged all for us; and after seeing everything put in a right train, she carried us to her house, where we were welcomed with cordial kindness by her husband.

I had now leisure to think on the course I must pursue. My brothers were all involved with ourselves in this ruin, and were, moreover, either married, and with families dependent on them, or still struggling to establish themselves in the world: we could look for no help from them. For the first time I stood alone. I could not ask advice from Mrs. Wentworth: she would hear of nothing but our remaining with her and her

I

I then

husband, and this I could not listen to. | her advantage. It was long before I could Their means were limited, and I could not make her listen patiently to my reasons: consent to be a burden to our friends. God she clung to me, and with passionate sobs had given me strength and health; to the entreated me not to degrade" myself-to liberality of my father, and the care of stay with her. Finding arguments fail, Miss Franklin, I owed an excellent educa- determined to appeal to her feelings, and tion; and I felt that I could myself main-gently told her that, by such conduct, she tain Amy. For her sake labor would be rendered my task doubly difficult; that sweet. I resolved to seek for a situation as without her assistance I did not feel equal a governess; and though well knowing the to the duty that lay before me; that she trials and difficulties of such a career, I felt must try to help me to do that which I was as if the motive would give me courage to sure her better judgment would show her to meet them all. The thought that my dear be right. She looked wistfully at me sister was safe from harm would animate through her tears, and struck with the my drooping spirit, and send me on my calm sadness of my manner, "Fanny," way rejoicing. Having taken my resolution, she said, "I am very selfish. While you I sought Mrs. Wentworth. At first she are thinking only of me, I am making you opposed my plan, bringing forward all the more unhappy. Kind sister! teach me to difficulties it would entail upon me, all the be like you; teach me how I may help you, sacrifices I must make, and urging me, with and you shall not find me ungrateful or the warmth of a loving friend, not to leave unworthy of all your goodness." the home she offered me. Seeing that my explained to her the various reasons that purpose was unalterably fixed, and in her rendered the step necessary; to which she heart, I am sure, approving the spirit that gradually yielded her assent, ever repeating, urged me to seek an independence, she however, that when she was old enough, she gradually yielded. I accepted, without would work for me; to which I answered, hesitation, her proposal, that Amy should we would then work together. This thought remain under her care. With her I knew seemed to cheer her, and she soon regained my sister would be happy, and in no other her wonted gaiety. situation could I have been satisfied to leave I will not dwell upon our parting, or deher. Amy was now thirteen, and from her tail the many trials that awaited me in my peculiar disposition, needed the guidance of new abode. I am sure that it was the deone who understood her well. Proud and sire of the whole family amongst whom I haughty by nature, she would have been a now became domesticated to be kind and tyrant had she not lived with those whom considerate; but none except those who she respected and loved, whose intellectual have tried this mode of life can know the as well as moral superiority she was com- lonely feelings that attend it. To exchange pelled to acknowledge. With a warm a happy home, in which I had been the enthusiastic temperament, she loved the loved and honored mistress, for the chill few to whom she gave her affection with and enforced courtesy of strangers, was passionate devotion, and by this love she could be guided like a little child. Mrs. Wentworth and myself alone possessed this power over Amy, and to her I gratefully confided my treasure.

painful enough; but more than all did I suffer from the contrast between my pupils and my darling Amy. At first, it seemed all labor in vain to endeavor to influence these wild and giddy creatures, and often It so happened that my friends had been have I wept to think how little success atapplied to a few weeks before to find a go- tended my utmost efforts. I was, however, verness for two little girls whose mother, but a novice in the work of education; and from delicacy of health, was obliged to give had yet to learn, that before the seed-time up the charge of their education. The comes, the ground must be weeded and situation promised many advantages, and I tilled, or the harvest will fail. I have thankfully accepted it. My hardest task lived to see my dear pupils grow into senstill remained. As yet, Amy was ignorant sible and refined women, and to bless God of my design. I knew that she would that I did not abandon my task as hopeoppose it with vehemence; her pride less. would rebel against the idea of her sister's becoming a governess; while her generous nature would shrink from the thought that, while she remained idle, I was laboring for

The neighborhood in which Sir William Monkton's residence was situated was peculiarly devoid of society, and Lady Monkton's health rendered all formal visiting

native purity of woman-but of the many who walk along the calm, unfrequented paths of life, ignorant alike of the ambitious aims and heartless vices of the world beyond. In the breast of such, love springs unconsciously, and has already grown to be the master-passion of her nature ere chance betrays it to herself. Thus it was with me: I walked beside an abyss, heedless of danger.

mind, as well as at her surpassing beauty. Her face, lighted by the lamp within, beamed with a radiant loveliness, which nothing but the rare union of high mental power with the gentler virtues of the heart can give. Her form was instinct with grace

impossible; the monotony of our life was therefore seldom broken in upon, except by intercourse with the curate of the parish, who was a frequent and ever-welcome guest. He was one of those rarely-endowed beings whom it is a privilege to know, whose presence exerts a powerful influence on all around him; one whose graceful manners and gentlemanly deportment are but the external signs of a pure heart and a cultivat- Let me, before proceeding further, exed mind. He devoted himself with heart culpate Herbert from all blame, which and soul to the high profession which had others, in compassion for my subsequent been his early choice; every talent, every sufferings, may feel disposed to attribute to energy was absorbed in the fulfilment of the him. He never, by word or look, showed duties it imposed upon him. He was idol- me a preference that could have misled one ized by the poor, while the rich and educat- better versed in the world's ways than I ed never failed to leave his society the was. His affectionate interest in me was better for his cheerful, earnest conversation such as a brother feels for a dear sister; and unostentatious piety. At Monkstown and when, taught by experience, I retraced his company was welcome to all: in the his actions, I felt that his kindness sprang weary hours of langour and suffering which from friendship, not from love. composed the life of poor Lady Monkton, I had resided five years in Sir William his presence cheered and supported her; Monkton's family, during which time I had from his lips she learned lessons which frequently visited my dear sister. Each turned her sorrow into joy: to Sir William time I saw her, I felt increased surprise and he was a frank and intelligent companion; delight at the progress I perceived in her while his playful humor rendered him a favorite with the little girls. Such was Herbert Somerville when I first became acquainted with him. I saw him day after day, and soon found in his kind sympathy the best support under the trials of my new position. He aided and encouraged that native grace which emanates from a my efforts to fulfil its duties, and by always setting before me the purest motives for my actions, made me feel that even Amy's welfare must be subservient to the higher desire of doing the will of God. He taught me to look for happiness alone in the endeavor to do what is right and well-pleasing in the sight of Him who searches the hearts of men; and while he thus elevated my moral nature, he led me on to new and vigorous mental efforts, by opening to me the higher walks of science and literature. Our intercourse became more and more intimate; and it will scarcely be matter of surprise that, as I esteemed him more, I unconsciously learned to love him. I have heard many people call it unmaidenly in a girl thus to bestow her affection unsolicited It was not long before I saw one eye bent by the object of her choice; but it seems upon her with such an earnest gaze that I to me that those who so condemn know started as I beheld it. How could it be? I little of the innocence and singleness of had eagerly desired that Herbert should see mind which form the peculiar charm of my Amy-should admire and love her: it had the female character. I do not speak of seemed the one thing needful to my happithose who are trained in the school of ness that these two should know and love the world-who, living amidst its artificial each other. As day by day passed on, I glare, early imbibe a spirit foreign to the felt increasing disquietude; my eye rest

pure and lofty soul, and breathes in every gesture. She was indeed a creature to command the highest admiration, and at the same time win her way to all hearts. On my return from these visits to Mrs. Wentworth, I could not refrain from speaking to my pupils of Amy. They had often expressed a strong desire to see her. Lady Monkton now joined in the wish, and at her request I wrote to invite my darling sister to Monkstown. She joyfully accepted the invitation so kindly given, and soon became the favorite of the house. Never did a mother watch a child with more proud delight than I followed this gay and joyous being, as she moved along, attracting universal admiration.