Mrs. Leicester's school, or, The history of several young ladies

MISSING IMAGE

Material Information

Title:
Mrs. Leicester's school, or, The history of several young ladies related by themselves
Portion of title:
History of several young ladies
Added title page title:
History of several young ladies, related by themselves
Physical Description:
180 pp ; 1 frontispiece plate ; 18 cm.
Language:
English
Creator:
Lamb, Charles, 1775-1834
Godwin, Mary Jane
Lamb, Mary, 1764-1847
Hopwood, James
Hopwood, William, 1784-1853
Mercier and Chervet (Firm)
Publisher:
M.J. Godwin
Place of Publication:
London
Manufacturer:
Mercier and Chervet
Publication Date:
Edition:
3rd ed.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Students -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1810   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1810
Genre:
Children's stories
novel   ( marcgt )

Notes

Citation/Reference:
Gumuchian,
Citation/Reference:
NUC pre-1956,
General Note:
Dedication signed: M.B.
General Note:
Three of the tales (i.e. The witch aunt, First going to church, and The sea voyage) are by Charles Lamb, the remaining seven by Mary Lamb.
General Note:
Frontispiece engraved by J. James Hopwood after his brother W. William Hopwood.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
aleph - 027236589
oclc - 09838110
lccn - 15004493
Classification:
lcc - PR4862 .M7 1810
System ID:
AA00021479:00001

Full Text





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MRS. LEICESTER'S SCHOOL:




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L.ADIES,


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1810.

















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P'InfIl kh' Mricier ard Chervcl, I
No. 3V, Linik BaniL,.omcw Clooe, Loauds .f I


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.. CONTENTS.




J. ELIXZArEB VILLIEBS: or The Sailor
Uncle . . . . 9
I1. LotnSA MJswras: The Farm-house 30
14. Awi WITHERnS: The Changeling 4-15
IV. BRwea ForTiem: The Father's
Wedding-day . . .. 85
:- MABaaar Gat.E : The Young
S Mahometan . . . 94
* ..... B.Tro1: Visit to the C'ouin 11
VVIIT.MARIA Howx: The Witch Aunt 131
I NIll CHARLOTTE WILMOT: The 51cr-
S'. chant's Daughter ..... 147
IX. SUSA.N YATES : First Going to
Church . . . . 15B
X. Aa&BELLA IunDTr : The Sel Vos age 169



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With much satrfacion do we erpre, our unqiafi-
S fled praise i)f bhee elrganit and mo-t inotrurri-,' Tales
they are dellihtfully -iAnple, and eiqui~itely told. The
child or parent who read the little hiLtory or Llizabeih
Villier, will, in !pile of any re-olution do the rontrar3,
be touched to the heart. ir not melted into tear. Moros-e
and crabbed ceunor as we are represented to be, we
rloqed ihe volume, wtihin! there hid been another, and
lamenii.g that we had "io to the end."
Crttjal Rn'tewfor December, 1808.


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rNNNW


,,M S. LFACESTER'S SCHOOL.
.- . *" '. '


^ DEDICATION
TO THE

TOWG. $&DWJS AT AJUWELL SCHOOL.


vl-Jl~afkbir s Friehds,
T IGO rtektdsed from the business of the
achod, thie abs' ee of your governess confines
AW ~~'Aftf during the vacation. I cannot
U *'NBkArSjfjhJ teisure hours than in rot/ri-
M tI the amusement of you my kind pupils,
."e'" Iy yar affectionate attentions to ny in-
strkfbnMs, hare rendered a fife of labour plea-
rest6 me.
1% y'iur return to school, I hope to hare a
fir topy ready to present to each of y/ou, of
yfour otn biographical conversations last winter.


hii kWAP




rr
S II nDIDI1CATION.

Arcept my thaiols .fbr tlhe uiprulbation j
a'tre pleased to e.rpress i/ht n I fferad to 6a
S rome your amuniuvns;s. I hope you wil//f
S I have rxecuted theoi qfle with/ a tol rally faith
f'ul pen, as you I.now I took notes each dia
during those conversations, and arranged m
materials after you were retired to rest. :1
ciI bte-infrom the dal our .,choo/ comimencere
It waxs opened by your ,grrner-' for ftihe firs
S timne. on the day of F.bruary. I pasi.
S orcr your ser-eral arriraolv on the morning ofl
that day. 'our governess revived you from
your friends in her ow'n parlour.
SEztry carriage that dirozv from the door,'
I knew had left a sad heart be hind. Your ryes-
r -ere red with Cweeping, a-hn n your gorerncssl
introduced nme to you as ithe teacher she had1
engaged to instruct you. She ue.rt de sired me.
S to shew you into the room which wi e now call
f/a t lplay-room. The l ,dis,"" said she, may
pluy, and amuse themtnselves, and be as happy
as i/Ity please this c-rH'ng, that they may be.


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DEUICArFION. I

well acqwailed with each olhi r b fore they
wcert he shekool-room to-morrow minor in,."
Tie tracees of tears were on every cheek,
and /.. Jabw a sad; for I, like you, had
pafrWffifihpy friends, and the duties of my
profAn W.vere new tlo me; .et, I fe't that it
;was improper to give wary to my own e ion-
choy tMougts. I knew that it was my fir.-1
du ty 4 rt the- solitary young strangers:
for MMerud thet this was very unlike thke
ews~sMs 4A. eW established school, where
therq i, 4., 1*ysome good-natured girl who will
skhew alttetions to a new scholar, and lake plea-
sure 4hs fat.ig her into the customs and
smuqqyiif.qf the place. These, thought I,
hAiw.. hir.'Pw amusements to inrent; their
triaui taMs to establish. /fow unlike too iA
this fOv4OM meeting to old school-ferUows 2e-
turnirg oaf er the holiday.., when mutual greet.
Sigs H lighten the menioryofparting sorrow!
I isited you to draw near a bright fire whiclra
based i.the chimney, and looked the only (h,'r.
Jful thing in the rojm.
n2


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[ IV DFOI(CATION.
Dorini t in' rsl sclinn i n(re, which,
Win, 0 IMnIl r, w'as only In orna ty my arpe
ieq wtelis thal you wouil mauc a smaller ,
Ss/i/I enuitler rice/v ,ii///I .aw/hIltcin-p/ncrffui
Sindo'rd rolln, the id:/ a came i/ino I. / mv
!
whith ha h wi re li.,'ta a wotrre of iu ie'ment
.7/nu 11i iht i'-colleclion, and to ai, elfin pa
Ftil rilur ha7 btecn of t .f eniial b, lfit t, Lq it ena
21r.. to, liira.,ie at
3 >ito firm ai]u s.t i.limate of the di.siosit1
'fuv ,Gn O., //I di)'
of you Myi yntuin.: pipito, and asishltt )ik
Sudapt my plan ol(', tN/tri inish ict/ions to ctc
td!ciduil tmnper.
nl initroduclion to a pOild we with to car
"> *:,'-e alitays ece to be uan azzu'wtd ,//ifr,
Senv'riul/' terci'le it ii an a t:rl-ard mann
*o I beli,"le I did ilh, it n: lor whein I impan
thi idta tI joti, I think 1 prtfut.d it ratl
Sloo f.,rm llj.1y for such .young atuditors,-fort
ii 'aln Cdith Il//finryoti, that I had read in d
autlhuors, that it ru a not iff fequient in form
Stimnei, :. hen teaingt.rs .'ere assembled togethk
as wti might br4,/orci them to amuse thenmse
wilh it iIt.i slorieF, itihti of thtir owrn /Ites,




..
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DEDICATION.

tke adw ttrest of others. W'ill You al/orw
l ,S'V continued, to persuade you to
ast wairsu'aes in this wayY? You will noal
M& lWk W unsociably upon each other; for
and lt4 tjegc strangers of whonm wr read,
We .s weel acquaixled before the conclusion
P" qafA jswv teroy, as if they had kno-wn each
#As mgw years. Let me prevail upon you
ijrel # Sanme litle anecdotes of your own lires.
if umus. a.akmv, CM read im books, and were
4q Wfl beter adapted to cowersatintm in those
mea~lra le of atmsemae were more scarce
El (,ti .4 edpresenit."
.&jcclions of not knowing what
q*, 4 Pr how to begin, which I overcame by
,...sswrug you how easy it would be, for that
ry person is naturally eloquent, when they
an te hero or heroine of their owrn tale ,-
0A. Who should begin was next in question,
g 4piroposed to draw lots, which formed a
I.t.., OUusemnent of itsfIt. Mis Mannerv, who
til th0n had been the sad.hst of the sa ', began
tP.igkten, and said it was just like drawing
B3







TI rf!i DICAII,,.

ti.dr and nie en, ndi /'egian 1o tcl/itt ;vhere e
passed lav tz'el'th-ly/.: li ut as Akr- Siarr
r'mu' havre in/'rfercd with the nnrf import
Sutn,.s (of t/h Inflt ey, I a1'vis.-il h r to
pone it, ti!l it crime to her twrn to f'v'nrt r
with the history of her li'f, htii it ;'co
,pp ear in its proper order. The first nmvi
fll to the share of Mi.s Vi/lit rv, who..e joqy
drawing what r'e called the first prize, wt
tempered wilh shame at appearing as- ther.fir
hi/to itin in the compan.y. She wished she haw
not been thie very fist ; she had passed all he
Iire in a retired ailflaie, and had nothing Mi
ef'ate of brr :er'l i/sot coIJd 'LI c L' ...1:! -,,'
laii'.ment ; .he /i,,I n, t ithe least idea in tih
w'o id 'wkeri / Io h gin.
t Et',in,." siou 1, :,'diht your mnamr, for
fthal at prtscitl i unl.'t-nown o ius. Ttll uts the!
first thing- you can eniemher; ri/late whatever
happenuid to make a erf at imprn --ion on you
when 3/orl were rryr ounr, and if you findyo
can conni cl/i our ,toiry ill your arlial lIere to-
dat.,- I am sure we shaHl listen to oit wilu







S DEDICATIO N. V11

"ptl.,sre; a'id if goi like to break of, and oan
.red.. cs. with a part of your histo,:y, "we -will
em.sepyw, with many thanks Jfur the amuse-
weat wAich ryu hare qffori-dd us; and the ladly
whko ktA-'pwN Ike second number -will, I hope,
&t*A4h turn with the same indaulgrnce, ito r-
late either all, or any part of the events of her
life, as best pleases her own fancy, or as she
fush she can manage it with the most ease to
I h4$JYV-Etnouraged ky this offer of indulg-


Akw lf.r ie o her story, or in any
~. tfe I shel appear to make her or
p .wiu.p..t.Wlder laguage than it seems pro-
e tat ..W shmild st, speaking in your ou-n
it m&Wt be remembered, that whut is
mrf jprpr and becoming when spoken, re-
stoes to 6. arranged with sonie little diference
efen.,it can be set down in writing. Little
bpeusis must be pared away, and the whole
at Mine a more Jbfrirmal and correct appeal -
< My1 w own wiy ef thinking, I am sei-
'k3 will too often intrude its'ff, buit, I have
at


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IVll DEDICATION.
endtarotired to preseive, as e.rxactlyl/ as I coi
.your oan words, andyour own peculi'arilia
style and manner, and to approve im self
lbiur faithful hisloriographlr, '
as well as true friend, .
M. BIJ(







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REJUZABETH VILLIERS.


4y Vt*.* *"

,qaSig..ltt k ati .r *: 2* I

f tle cinmle of a village ch u rch,
ae IaW l'i-froin Ainwell. I was born in
llkNIt..ole.'"whlidb joins the church-
a J te hld UI can remember was my
Ika~ta in't Wid tnhe alphabet from the letters
kW 44etbtfdi that stood at the head of my
"Abft grtve. I used to tap at my fathet'i
study-door; I think I now hear him say,
Y'M** tbaIe?--What do you want, little
MtP""'Gdt i tia'fee anma.m Go and learn
rOt)qlers." Many times inlhe dlay would
4it*& lay aide his books and his papers to
s5


W- __ _






10 TIHE SAILOR UNCLE.
lead me to this spot, and make me poinitq
.letters, and then set me to spell syllables#.
words: in this manner, the epitaph on.
mother's tomb being my primmer and my i
ing-book, I learned to read.
I was one day sitting on a step placed ac
the church-yard stile, when a gentleman
Hi' ing by, heard me distinctly repeat the leC
-which formed my mother's name, and then
EfTizabeth f'illiers, with a firm (one, as if I

was my uncle James, my mother's brotherq

was a lieutenant in the navy, and had
England a few weeks after ihe marriage of.'
father and mother, and now, returned h
from a long sea-voyage, he was coming to,.
U' my mother; no tidings of her deceased baTi
reached him, though site had been dead Ml
than a twelvemoth. ,
When my uncle saw me sill ing on 1he.ti|
and heard me pronounce my mother's name
S looked earnestly in my face, and began to f6&
1 a resemblance to his sister, and to think I ii
-. .j







WAge A1I[IA UNCLE. i1
*jftlPl: I'r too intent on my employ-
.. ^l : .etnm e.him, and went spelling on.,
i W ai mllihty3o to spell so prettily, my
i....Wid -my unc!e. Mamma,"
5 1-f h It lha anidea that the words on
'* ....iWz --, somrehow a part of mamma,
S* I j lefta,.4i.e,. And o is
!, |wll|li ite1l ,"Elizabeth Vil-
| and then*my uncle called me
U.l. v |e v|i.r- a_ d said he would go with
aI.P4| b*:*otk hold of my hand, in-
*gih ib. ho Ime, delighted that ihe
i I4 Was, because he imagined
1 .... i6| pleanot surprise to his sister
Mle'dt*Ughter bringing home her

WON U lii him to mamma, but we had
41 way thither. My uncle
laftegi the road which led directly
ltiWim-: I pointed to the church-yard,
lI ljt1 the way to mamma. Though.
WiW -.delay,, he was not willing to
eMtm e s point with his new relation; there-
B 6

........, .. .
~~~~~~~~~." ....'.' ,.'... .." .."..,







I2 TIHE SAILOR UNCLE.
fore, he lifie, me over the stile, and wasi*
going to take me along Abe pathlb to a gat
knew jas at (he end of our garden ; but-,
1 would not go that way neither: letting geo
Island, I said, You do not know the way
I will shew you:" and making %hat hat
could among The long grass and thistles, l
IIIJ
jumping over the low graves, he said, asj
followed, what hlie called my wayicraj'id si
l What a positive soul this little niece of im
:1 is! I knew the way to your mother's ho
before you were born, child." At last I st
ped at my mother's grave, and pointing to
tombstone, said, '" Here is mamma," in a voi
of exullaliuon, as if I bad now convinced hi"
$| that I knew the way best : I looked up in
face to see him acknowledge his mistake; bI
Oh what a face of sorrow did I see! I wa:
frightened, tbat I have but an imperfect rea4
election of haL followed. i remember I puiil4l
his coat, and cried '"'Sir, sir," and tried to meq
him. I knew not iihat to do; my mind wa
in a strange confusion ; 1 thought I bad done





4,*







fl3 WB LOR U&BNCLE. 13
jrmibist wew is bringing the gentleman fo
*wow taqMake hin. cry so sadly; but what
JimIoaemdd not tell. This grave had always
YUSf ddligtM to me. In the house
;" i^btUMIMllui m be weary of my prattle,
akWAV& fibn him; bt here be was all my
y WllM4 'WJt-t*Way anything and be as frolic-
i. 'ie I piked her; all was chearfulness and
A: :: bM mw in.m o vriits to mamma, as we
w..Mytfdi, wold tell me bow quiel ly
*. di v sad. thatt he and his little
flufitllM ,tig eep beside mamma in
I#Sdp mwl eal I went to bed, as I laid
.4ltb d an..the pillow, I used to wish I
l*t*.eslisthe grave with my papa and
aIl KWUlM.sagy childish dreams I used to
imgpw Sbn.; and it was a place within
^gpmmmIlaI4aoolh, and soft, and green.
,,IIPsP *ay figure of mamma, but still
4int. ,Otombstone, and papa, and the smooth
49M lM|M .tMld m.y head resting upon the
-A.L .t cr.






14 fTHE SAILOR UNCLE.
How long my uncle remained in this ago
A of grief I know not; to me it seemed a
long time : at last he took me in his arms,
.i held me so tight, that I 'began to cry, and
borne to my either, and told him Ithat a gen
man was crying about manmina's prcty letter
1 No doubt it was a very aff tling meet
between my father and my uncle. I remi
bher that it was the very first day I ever saw i
i father weep: that I was in sad trouble, a
went into the kitchen and told Susan, our s
vaun, that papa was crying; and she %%ana
to keep me with her that I might not distuw
the conversation ; but I wouldd go back to It
parlour to poor papa, and I verit in sofilyv,
crept bclwcen my lather's knees. My une
offered to take me iii his arms, but I turned sui
lenly from him, and clung closer Io my falhelk
having conceived a dislike to my uncle Incall
S he had made my father cry.
Now I first learned What my mother's den
was a heav3 affliction; fbr I heard my fatherH






vT\~~ .? ^^ ^'^, ^- 1'







IBXU.lrOKILOR UNCL. 13
K story of her long illness, her
V: '^Agf.wlwhat he had suffered from her loss.
i, what a sad thing it was for my
,.irt : vith such a young child; but
,Phis little. Belsy was all his
lBllMI" 404 N AMi t fuor me, he should have
R. Ji -How i could be any comfort to
vHt rck ne with wonder. 1 knew I
EuIlA.hq* ha played and talked with
A IJ ftoh- Aheftt was all goodness and
".1'lhad no notion how I
^ |KjJMl.bMPmr of hi happiness. The
| | Walwkew d he had suffered, was as new
.-10o0me.- I had no idea that he had
p Wi 3 ;. hUiaig-e was always kind
m..I 4l jd iRevr before seea him weep,
: p m**emW h signs of grief as (hosein which
;i: i hapImy little troubles. My thoughts
.. 4il" 4Pctb were conlfused and childih;
*;1likme-J never ceased pondering on
kap- of amy dead manimma.
-a ftdint day I went by mere habit to the
I :, Aor, to call papa to the beloved grave;






16 THE SAILOR UNCLE.
my mind misgnve me, and I could not ta
tbc door. I went backwards and forw
between the kitchen and the study, and w
to do with myself I did not know. My i
met me in the passage, and said, Be
will you come and walk with me in thegarde
This I refused, for thIbis was not what I wan
but the old amusement of sibling on ihe gral
S and talking to papa. My uncle tried to i
suade me, but still I said, No, no,"
ran crying into the kitchen. As he folio
me in there, Susan said, This child is
S fretful to-day, I do not know what 1o do wi
her." Aye," said my uncle, I soppal
S my poor brother spoils her, having but onew
S This reflection on my papa made me quite d
a little passion of anger, for I had not forg4
that with this new uncle sorrow had first coI4
into our dwtliung: I screamed loudly, till q4
father came out to know what it. nasl allud
He sentl mny uUclek- into the parlour, and sai4
he would manage the ihaIle wrangler by .him-i
I' self. WhiIu my uncle was gone I ceased cap








TtfZ BAILOR UWCLE. If

r ilanI;i"her forgot to lecture me for my ill
SBlKrW ,.or to inquire into the cause, and vwe
B.p &w* seated by the side of Ihc tombstone.
' E:" t n went on that day; no talking of
p ".' .a."'..." .,.. i
L:.:.:.sleepiang in the greeb grave; no
j injtmRS the tombstone to the ground;
Sno. menjit. or pleasant stories. I sat upon
". hltihltbus, looking up in his face, and
~gg,4ile~rsypaloe.%"fill, having
.11,11 t9)I, and now oppressed

.... TIN i'lmll1:4 froze. San that this
t.r...u.tan.t haint; Sbe told himun she
daWP l~iet her' master would never get
iQ-Aeltjrjr-deatft of her mistress, while
-it s ita'Uteclh tle child to read at the
aiBU :t* itr, Ithough it might sooib his
gdI4&UltQ t 4-Ir ever fresh in his memory.
1 &t t:hih sister's grave had been such a
ljir tyuncle, that he readily entered into
Simiflpfp tensions; aml concluding, that itf
I Wetto study by some other means, there
awMaIo longer be a pretence for ihbese visits







1SlTHE AlOIT I'N(C.LE.

to (lie grave, aw.Ly nimy kind uirl', Ihaf
(ito) (lithe nearest marker-lomii to buyv me
books.
ji I heard the coiilrece lbri,. -.i m % ,incdh
SSusan, and I did not approve of Iis inter.
S in our pleasure. I saw.v himn take Iis hat
1 ~ walk out, anti I secrelly hoped lie was gone:

.yond seas again, from hence vSusian hTad tol
he had come. Where beyond t-caz was I ce
i'j not tell; but I concluded it %%as somcwh
|Jl great vay off. I look nay aeat on the chu
Syard stile, and kept looking down ithe
I. and saying, I hope I shall not see my u
S again. I hope my uncle i ill not come fr
U beyond seas any more ;" but I -aid ths v
sofily, aud had it kindl of Vnotin lihat I was
S a perverse ill himourired l. litre I sat 4
my uncle returned I',mii lie i!;tritil-ttio n i
I hb:s nPw piirclia-es. I s-' hini coiie w4I1
very fait wiih ait parcel under hi- arm. I
very sorry Io wcc him, ani I' roned, and 4i
S to look very crio:. i. unt ield Ihis p irvl, a&
s aidl, '"' lDi.sv, I hi.ve bro lglt y.o!, a prel

Ij








r'HE liL'OR lV"CLr-.
tarnld my head away, and said,
Siklrt a book ;" but I could not help
aFain to look at it. In the hurry of
ju" zw he hatl scattered aUll the
and there 1 saw fine
I* gKia'vietues all fluttering about.
1igd-4l1 my resentment va-
4Watjif Id/l up my face to kiss him, that
"tli '"ingg my rather for any

l hTi himself info rathi i
2ii had heard me, spell so
.. f tl hit there was nothing to do
!Dit hm6 d3 ntqd I shn5
SMmthataadia I spelt tolerably
(W.[tg 'lW B my mew library iere so
Ji& dhau I had been accustomed to,
"'i"""reeA characters to me; I could
i jt. ijl ef them. The honest sailor
PS btt iseeonragxd by th:s difficulty;
14inoM to play the schoolinaster, ihe
UBE to read the small print, vili un-

F.0e1e and paitence; aaluirbedwrer


-A






J.
i20 TIrI Sr ILf tsR U' I. I
S he saw my fajlicr and me lioL a, if weAII
to resume our visits to the grav, he w.
II propose some ple;L.sin( %:ilk In il my (r
t said il was too far fIr lthe child to %'all
would set me on his shoulder, and say, 'F
Betsy shall ride ;" and in hibi manner ai
carriedd me many, many miilis. 4
P In these plIa-ant cxcursi.,ns my uncle
dom forgot to nmke Sustiii furniali him wi
S luncheon i which, though il generally hapM
S every day, made a constant surprise to myp
S and me, when, seated under some shady
he pulled it out of his pockcf, and begaN
distribute his little store and then .1 I INd
S peep into Ihe other pocket tu see if there lv
not some currant wine thern' ant the little W4
: of Iater fur me: if, peCrchance, the oaler I
ij forgot, Ithen it matde another joke,-that I
Vj Befs) must be forced to drink a little drom
vine. These are childish things to tell 4
andt, instead of' my nin silly history, I
1..: ~ I couid renimemnibrr the enecrltain izl ,ories I
W\ uncle un'd to rtlte of hi, vovagcs and trawq



Ini i -- -- -------------- ^ .E







M,' i l&A L WIM CLB1 21
Iui- Muter. tblshady.trems, eating our


i nntile made as was such
1^ P4Uu tiA lay lilb that I fear I
3i bipf'iem'ln~.th liking of hini;
lii t 1Tmjindet of my story

miam ;WaWths passed away, but not
ph4-AR!kMItu Bwalfks, and the chliarniing
.ul l'.- advevt'res, made ibthem
Xt q me; I remember the approach
3in. .igreit coat he bought for
.6w $ N milIvws wben I first put it
-d I med Little Red Riding
A.Wid -m bewazai w.lves, and that
AMjw aid thieAPWre no such things
liliIu b'tL&olI 14 hot* many wolves, and
ni and lions he bad met with
3..lad, E that were like Robinson
;,I:>t& ihe were happy days!
'Aii r walks aert shorter and less
i 'Mybooks were now my chiefamuse-
lmy tads .were often interrupted


NO







II| HF. SAII.OR lU%( LI.
S by a game of romps with my uncle, whi
often ended in a quarrel because lie played
jr
roughly; yet long before fliia I dearly loI
* my uncle, and thle improvement I made w
Kr %was %ith us was very great indird. I co0
S now read very well, and tlne continual habit
listening to lthe conversations of my father
my unclemade amea lilile noman in iaderssta
i ing; so flthat my fiAher said to hinm, ,,.I.
i you hiave made mny child quite a cwmpanil
bl)le little being."
MAy failrher often left me alone silth my uneW
nmetinits to itritu r iiab ermions ; s.o'1,i tli esi
S viit the sick, or give (ou'.'J to his poor neig
S I,,urs: then my uncle used Io hold Iong cod
versations with me, felling me hou I shou(
strive to make my tfalher happy,anril endejvmOW
S to improve myself %iliei) lie %ias gone:-nuq
S I bx'cganjustly I) unidersl'inid ,i) hlie had LkO
S such pains to keep my f.hllier from visiting mO
mother's grave, that grave dhich I often stol
a privately to look at; but now never ithou
awe and rev ernce, f1r my uncle used to Il mt







5 TMill6oCR UNCLE-. ) 23

.. lill~llt hdy my mother was, and
of her as havig been a real
bef0on smned an ideal some-
. P0 w& ooMaiectd with life. And he told
*U&:T .ft" the Manor-House, who
* g 1 -b*WY hi the church, were not so
lbshl ~ bli at women in the village were
. yjp .v.i W my sweet mamma; and that if
I- i should mot have been forced to
*hwptujWVg from him, a rough
7.M,.: # PP-'y-u Anku and-. sew of Suoan,
I ^ .w # Metawugbt q l lady- like
doles behaviour and perfect
baid.h slecsed for me pro.
">< '"tJI wMeM j to instruct my
qh":ihe notfibig'knew. If ever
.ll tR ave any proper sense of what
qing in the wnomanly rha-
AM.W*-* 41(hese lessons of my rough
Sfor, in telling mine wlat my
Hla ve made rnme, he taught me
wba I; aid when, Xoon alier my
.1 was introduced to thie laiis at
instead of hanging down my







24 taHE SAILOU UNCLE. i
bead with shame, as I should have donj
sy uncle came, like a little villagelj
1 Iried to speak distinctly, with ease,-.j
modest genhlenf--s, as my uncle had s
mother used to do; instead of hang-iog
my head abashed, I lioked upon thezl4
thought what a pretty sight a tine lId^
and thought how (-Ill my mothliei musilL
appeared, since she %ai so much more
ful than these ladies iere; aid when Ij
them compliment my father on the
able behaviour of his child, and sayi
well lie had brought me up, I ihoud
myst-lf, Papa does not much mind my'
ners, if I am but a good girl; but i0
my uncle that taught me to behave
mamma."-I cannot now think my uncjl
so rough and unpolislhd as he said he wa
his lessons %ere so good and so impressive
I shall never forget then,, and I hope they
be of u'e tolu ine as long as I live: he
explain to me the nmeanning of :ll the Vki
used, such as grace and clrgance, m0d
I-*
71







"-:a j :.. *....

^l1'"'~iNI'" painting out instances
a i tm by thew ords, in (he man-
,. 11 nlad (heir young daughters
,. "| "r church; for, -besides the
^*'IH^^f'.1 fite dasHtti man}y of the neigh-
1 'WW~f~lft^ O'eto our church because

W bES4BWlMitrb~fttiy in the spring when
Wt' twby, For the crocuses were
*alNlN lkit 'and the primroses
Sulder'ftt'm the young bud-
..... lf ried v if my heart
'4 Wtltmd the last sight of him
*Ebttwlatmong the trees, as he
MfHlii. ify'ther accompanied
itown, from whence he was
P'fW' h^ e ttage-coach to London.
5tuaiht a" Susan's endeavours
WM The stile where I "first
-Hf, taze into my mind, and I
go'a0nd sit there, alnd think
6'13 '^t-t I was no sooner seated
i-' remembeMred bow I lhad fright-







'-dU T11E SAII.Onl [fN; 1.1.

Motherr'% grave, and iwen again how n
I had been when I -aie inuticring ol
at this >ame btile, fishing (hliat l e,
gone so far Io buy me books, migbh
come back any more: all my little
with my uncle came inlo minv mind, Du.
could never play)' illii linn agaiin, anI
most broke my hear. I ia- tbrcsdQ
into the house to Su.,an for that cons.
had just before despised.
Sonic days after this, as I was sitting'.
ire iitli my father, afher it nf s dark,
lore the candles were lighted, I gave b'i.
count of my troubled con-cience at the p.
stile, iihen I rememnnbered lio unkind.'
been to my uncle when lie firsl came,
sorry I still %ia wlienceer I thought pf
' ny quarrels I had hIad iilh him. '
SMy father smiled, and look hold of |
saying, I will tell you all about
little pl.itent. This is lie sort of.."
whichh De all IMel, when those we Io







T*P^AIlEOa UNCLE. Z.A
xrcat friends are with
^ l itg~ileir sociejy, without
o j a rFpCa Lwnf of the blessing
r~i ^ "' ... .~T : :. ..
l1 d~Bfdo we~too nicely weigh
_...Afit onsk;-we let (hem
ur idisconteted moods;
~~kunsdisturb our friend-
Ju more endear us to each
,,h i* happier temper. But
like grievous fau Its
g ,.iion, is gone lir
ula.Lnd I bad no quar-
ffayr or my lonely sorrow,
g ~ _.l|Vmy mind that 1
9 pa.. pade her happier.
-my child. You did all a
...please your uncle, aud dearly
these little things nviich
| | mind, were remenixhri.il
uncle; he was telling m,.'
ff just Perhaps as you wcre
With sorrow, of Ilie difficulty
hinto .jour good gracc N1 hen
"c2 '







T i8 TIlE SA 1IOII i- L .
i bhe first came; hr will think of Olie (f
with pleasure %hen he is far away. Pdt a
from you this unfounded grief ; only let it
lesson to you to be as Lindl as posib'li
those you love; and rcnember, piher '
are gone from you, you will n-ver t
!11W you hail been kind eutoi.,i,. Such feel
as you have now described, are (lie 6lot
humanity. So you will feel ahen I anij
more, and so will your children feel 4
you are dead. B t our uncle' will come
agnn, Betsy, nud we vill now think of uli
ywe are Io gel theli cage to keep the talking p
rot in, lie is to'bring loJme; anti go and C
Sujin to bring the candles, and aAk her if 0
hice cake is almost baked, that slie promised i
B give us for our tea."

-It this point, niy d, ar miss 'dli'ers,I yI
thought fit to hrak 4F your stiry, and th a'.
e$ tye!s' of jyrtr yngs apid'tors, seemed to oe n/f
-I" ^that you had suect edeid 1. wrtving their fietin
with your pretty narrative. It now fill by J


I'fW :, _\ *_.~.^I L -^ !*'- '* "^







'TUX SAILOR UNCLE. 29
..sr m. Mafoers to rate her sth-
-.ad mogre f; efficiently culrUs to
; )'ver j g Arn historian had to
B ..m..J ehai continue the narratives
,. fce order im which thee, fl-
.......M.. any of the interrup-
,ew4 fw,, Mie asking of qus-
J 43. MVIACoer came, unless ale)Aj!.
^ Histories. I shall alws
wUh h..-A yoiu sevneralV
Jlauw stories of yourstlves,
9w seavmalk in their flace,
a proper dijfdefme, &ecaitse
v^M| | rt ** l ee -are d we.

.s


-F ,
..
















LOLUISA MANNEIRN.


^il ~ ~ ^-0~---
IirA




MY rnacc, i- Lo i.U Manners; I mas sev
y'-.iars of age last biltlhday, i hbichli as on
fift of" .MI i. I rc. Icub.i ui nly fou r birthday
TILC day 1 M:IS fobltr ears ol(1 iva, the first t
1 recullect. Oi()l the inr l chc oh lhiat day,
I-,on. as I aztokc' I (r,-pt inlo nvu'inia' bL
arind aaill, L Opell ; .uir -\.-, iiiahnka:, 1'r it
my birthday'. Open ,or f yc-, a'ild loaki
mr-!" Tfen in mma fold me I -imlld ride in
post-chi.,e, ani t e my grandmamnia and nl
sc'trr Sajr.iL. Gir.lccdm:,nli.i lived at a faiir
house inl thle coiinltrv', andi I had n;vcr in
my lift.- been oit tof' London; no, nor had.



e.,- i..







S TBE FARM HOUSE.
..bit9o( green grass, except in the
dfhbich is near my papa's house
n; or had I ever rode inll a cnr-
ittlappy birthday.
l houie talking, of where I was
ii~g so:that it'Was my birth-
mi' t insfo the chaise I was tired

10:18e 41ll
s Pa, Aim grrehe fields on
......yeto flowers, and

.'.uitbbsIvwer1edioug4 then.
H|Ud Pi~pmy hand. together for
,T'c. I~I.. : ..
h ke meado*s to see the young lambs,"
>i~pew mauoy of Walts' hymns by heart.
t.er -anid hedgrs seemed to fly swiftly
r, jiaJ ;no field, and the sheep, ,and the
O'ng .i"bbs, passed a iay; andil thea another
,id. caie,-and that wns fill of cows; and then
other field, and all the prety sheep returned,
dIthere Wis no end of these charming sights
r 4


| ,








THF rAV1fl-HOI-EC.

itI v.e came quile to grandrnlamnla' hon
which sloid 41ll alone by ilsiell' no house to
seen at all nr.i it. '
Grandinammna was very glad to see
and.she was very sorry thit I did n t renmer
bar her, though I had bten so Ibnd of her Wvh
tshe was in town but a few mntlnhs before.|
was quite ashamed of my bad memory. Mj
mister Sarah bhewed me all the beautiful ptae
about grandmamma's house. She first te
rme into the farm-yard, and I peeped., into t
barn ; thece I saw a man thrashing, and ast
beat the corm with his flail, he: made such
dreadful noise that I was friarhhtued and.
away ; my sister persuaded me toin return ; s.
maid Will Tabker was very good-natured
then I went hack, and peeped at him again;
bht as I could notreconcile myself to the sound
of his flail, or the sight of his black heard, we
proceeded tn see the rest bt' the farn-y ard.
There was no end to the curiosities that
Sarah had to shew me. There was the polb
where the ducks were swimming, and the littlH


-^.uif~t- :-**''. ,,aaj~i.ii_ Ai_ Zia.-j .;




>~t~ 9


lFille'rs~ere the be'. slept at night.
N t re 'feeding all over the yard, and
^''hcbiCkalttr j they were feeding
4W i fc i 7 ydlDw dUckjing that iad a hen
S thbas Intgr Q firighelaw it

sete~ted very wiqe bird.
< eoat of Tihe form-yard into the or-
what a sweat plkwe grandinomma'.
tmel re were par-t ices, and applr-
#vrptrim, ol b bloenom. These
ai pfrAn h.wer. that ever
., atMnp the grass wider I he Irees
60.,lf-qjs, and cowslips, and
4l-Wbr. Sarah told me all
0l1.wvl she said I might pick as many
dt Bans tew I piesad.
S. my ilap WiLb flower., I filled my
h mSj fioMwerS, and I carried as many
fej"Iw oudI ia both my bands; but as I
Vll i the parlour to shew then to my
WW i t bk-d oveg a teresliold which
W -C 5
*'ir- c5r"^F.






1.3'1 TIE IFAfRM-JioLITr. .
K;was placed across the parlour, anrid dqi
with all rny lrasure."'
Nothing could have so u1'lI pacified
the misfortune of my fallen flowers, as I
of a delicious syllabub which Ihappened|
Moment to be brought in. Grandmam|
it was a present fruonm the r, d cow lo me b
it was my birilav ; and then because
.i the first of' M:iy, .hlie ordered tlie syl4
fiyh pIliced indler the Maj-bih IJ (hat gra
fure O'w' parlotir door, and when %ie wec
('J on the grabs round it, she hei-lpedl
|ery first to a large ghass full of ITbe y1l
a'id wished me many happy relurns ofj
'l 'day, arid then she said I was myself the P
Ii est little May-blossomi in (lie orchard.
After lthe :yllablib threw \%as thie gardt
ii. ^see, arid a nmo3t beautiful garden it wa

lung an!d iiarro-.i, a str-ight l ravel walk
H 4the middlek' tf it, at the end of the gravel!
ti ti here wa' a.'rt'en arbour ikiih a bertch Hat
ss. There sere ro%,s of cabba.ges and radi


--.am'!-'---. mdjiMateIaa








l s bmtdelighted to see
t w so awCh as a cabbage

6|||tgl garden there
i'iud the bees sung

ll de ~you nothing to say
ilHE m.eR> usa "'.. Then 1 said


iR .J1. l*ttpe aNcproe each
&%IiIffroim every opening


u Lp4wer-bda to gather
th shivr.
fl catch one bee, till Sirah told
i n ios, which made me afraid
H too too near (heir hives; but
ftrer, and a liule nearer every
B[ ,ame away from grand-
g9 bold, I let \Will Tasker
pIgapss windows at the top of
C .






56 TWE FARW-HOrt..
the hives, to see them. make honey in t
homes.
After seeing the garden, I saw the
milked, and that was the last sight I
that day; for while I was telling mamma a,
S the cows, I fell fast asleep, and I supposcl
Then put to bed.
The next morning my papa and maa
were gone. I cried saidty, but %as a little
foriled at hearing they would return inami
or two, and fetch me home. I was a fooi
littUle timing then, and (lid not kn,ow how oIn
month was. Grandimnimma gave me a lit
Basket to gather my floasers in. I %ent i4
tlhe orchard, and belbre I had hilf filled rm
basket, I forgot all inmy troubles.
SThe time I passed at my grandninmmina's
always in my mind. Sonm-timnes I think of *t
S good-nniatured pied cow, that would let am
stroke hei, while the dairy-maid was milking
her. Then I fancy mjstif ruining afler
dairy-maid into the nice clean dairy, and i
the pans full of milk and cream. Then I V




,j





..I.n. .in .. .


kingb it. haiL .e been a
g awn oW, the wood w,
t ^~ak^^1*'"11wd; to peep aboulk
S' lkllfAmohmihrot fad^ &be>eg the hens
it-. :.Bids oaets we might
.. ..C.: 3Gwml umma was very angry
ase, bam WII Tanker brought bome a bird's
nMtpvi.cf ,Wety speckled egp, fs me. She
nw o Ikeo ht.cdrtowkkI it again. Shem
+bi. Iwde.wubIhsu. mng any more,
Mkshoes AbN& lbem.
PP S h il m*Il kwOspitLable bird, and
e..k w. W than .dwW atted,oa pur-

r. | .+'+.BmitLQs to = pulding

',:Z,.et kum lCUh played gruadrnanma
mlllM l owrried her home a, lap-full of
*fi||)AiW violets; for she was Palicularly

vu.ry scarce we used to search
a*I g. for Uiem every morning, mouo4
NI&lMasod ledge, and Sarah used to carry
l.ok i.hu bhe .ad to bat away the aeu.l;






:? I
r 38THE FARM-FtUSE.

for very frequently the hens left their e
among the nrcutLrs If we could Find eggs i
violekts too, %%hat happy children %e were!
Every dlay I used to till my basket i
flocers, and for a Inng lime I liked one pr
flowers well as another pretty flower, bit
rah was much wiser than me, and she ltaugii
me which lo prefer.
Grandmarnma's violets v., re' ei rt!ii'iy best
all, but they never went in the ba-sket, beind
carried hliome, almost flower by flower, as soo04
as they were found ; therefi.ore blue-bells mightl
be said to be the best, for the con'Pilis, %'re am
withered and gone, before I lea-rncil tlihe trl
value of flowers. The best blue-bellk weru
those tinged with red ; snime were 'o very red,
that we called them red blue-bells, and the-e Sal
rah prized very highly indeed. Daffbdils wcre
so very plentiful, Ihry were not thoIiht iorth
ratlieriing, unless they were double ones, and
butter-cups I found w, re very poor flowers ina
deed, yet I iould pick one no%% and then. bc4
cause [ knei they mere the very same flowe




I






*Bite ftrevzuv-I1oUSE. j
ted me so in (he journey; for
^ld tbM me they vere.
L ,#N W ry -carefut to love best the flowers
M&A1,Rj&u:ised most, yet sometimes, I
+"I have'even piblked a'daisy, though I
; !t"'t *as the very' worst flower of all, be-
-bime it-iwminded me of Lonlon, and the Dra-
ePs' Garden; for, happ .i at grand-
.'.kIc otald not h thiuklhg
mamrM*10 tell
"A"Alf about Lol lhe houses
AP Wthesc e to each -t a prety
A.: &.hes made O*it a many
~~SIB~hetoiu~ie wstm lr~e had
4"" in!generally
ti"A6 into th&6ld wood-h
S PI -London. We used t bits of
M&NotMnIu ; our two dolls we called papa
4MiapJ ma; in one corner we made a little
o.' ...".it ass and daisies, and that was to
~wlt jqoaps' Garden. I would not*ave any
%aftaM 0WreN-hre than daisies, because no other
Bu tog the-grass in the real Drapers' Gar-






TIE FARM-ILOUSb.


den. lReloe the time of hay-making ca
was very much talked of. Sarah told me
a merry time it would be, for slie reinermb
every thing which had happened lfor a ye
more. She told me how nicely we so
throw the hay about. I nas very dehiious,
deked to s* the hay made.
To be mire nothing cuuld be more plh.
than t ke daittc owhard vwas moied -: t ie
smelled so se., %nd %e might to,,s it abott
much as eve ve plead; Lui, dear me,
*fCten wB ish fpr things ihat do not. prove ,|
happy as we expected ; the hay, which was
first so green, awl smelled so sweet, became y.ey
low and dry., auld %an cart Led a:i y in a cart l
feed the hox.; jiud bthen, h.'nii it L %i. all g;aI
and therm was no wor.' to play wIhb, I los)k
u [pon the naked ground, and p.iceivcd ilhz4
e had hInst in liitBe fev nierrv il.i s. Ladie%,
would you believe it, evcry '',.'.er, blue-bells'

I daffodils, butter-cups. dtlaicis, all weeic cut
[ by ith cruel scythe oh the minower. No tlowe
| aA to be setu at all, except hl're and there


1 i 'I

II **-





W: 77..B. .. ...



AA nS r O.so it kipper
Ibel dy,0t a. weflkf before GoP

|Bi^1|ifillii .bit w.u ec iii great di%-
^||@6^M~ thi~akiltin uhich

I M tlambmatim- sad arsts uer almost
B^ 'thi, sutoodunld th pleatlanst pre
a. *Thewere brought 4 aowl. mds
^l the shehernidi stowte4 or,.

| mWH aen^s,~ tte wwej& pia
q~I1Sb felhlWltpSiftI ^*U? ask he
AL r rAp, sough to eat-,.

F iefrIWb.*opWtne1 would' be,
daykbly me@UtC sBiegafwr a Iauye to

I tVW currants and gooseberries were
q114,t pranudmamma had a sheep-shear-

fiatni. ebwg stood undes the tees to be
*tl4ild. Thej were brought out of the field
AL the shepherd. I stood at the or-


amm,







T9 THE F I fM-IOL,, .U
chard-zate, and saw liim drivi' themin a
lWhen they had cropped off all their wool,7.
Looked very clean, and while, and pretty.;
p',or things, they ranii shivering alm-olu
Scold. so that it was a pity to see tltin.
*|. preparations were making all day for thesh
i' shearing supper. Sarah said, a sheep.-she-_
wasnot to hecompared to a lharvest-home, .
vas so much better, lbr ldeil then the ovew'I
quite full of ptin-pudding, and the kithh
was very hot-indeed with roasting bcefr ..:i
can assure you there was no want at-allot'f Pt
roast beef or plum-pudding at the sheep-s
ing.
My sister and I were permitted (o sit tp-
it was almost dark, to see the company at su
* per. They sale at i loi,, ,ik tlier, n hii
was finely carved, andl .,., bright a.s a looking
Has;-.
I olblai:'d a greaf dl:LI of j)r.ii tii it da
* because I replied sn pilttlil v 'tlen I ivaspoik1
to. MYf 'i-l.r \s.is more ;y l hi.m me; nev
hLavinhz L,,.I i! L I.otndoni t.n 1ihr (;',i 1"ha* '

,II


L,,"ap, -




A t qi - ..-." '*1 '- '"
;, -- - .*s

ru. m-, o .43
S4pjilt 4-96 Itedtinie will come!
.,ISIt,., t. tle mt-ttrIst grandmanmma sent
.AflPgttc tfrt fwohwt-to bed we heard
hskng: to be sure we
,6,11MfOW6words, -hich *was a
i W- iWWbm y oF ,r -vhoieds was very

4t*SUWl11s9M'thl~henJ every night
,IlqSt CMu at. W bbobehe men came
ttt1flUS914mietg lS~Ags ^ai lig an the
tg"UI ed tdwh d blaze, and
lill~liinil^and tihaithe aickets, fair
c-S.-._._ 18,,flde ige ing,, andl old
rG wo loved the Ar its a well
Ad46 id take his place in
4''*'elmbdr; after the holiest day ia
0`l I tbere old Spot used to sit. It was a
M4l-6.ftii thie fire-place, quite under the chim-
,!Bu|ver his head thlie bacon hung.
ltl:.beu old Spot was seated, the milk was
'Oilre skillet over the fire, and then (he
|ed to come and sit doun at the long



......







ii?, 41 TTHE FARM-&lO Or..
Pardon me, my dear Louisa, that I p1
rptcd yjou here. You are a litlh icoman v~
to what you were then ; and I in.ay say to -
that thoiigh I loved to hear /you prattle ofy
gailM/ recollotlion, I thought I perceired s
WIldies press nit were rath/rr weary/ of hearing':
S much of the visit to grandamima. Vu -s
*wanrtr 1 wke4y u some "sUiWons conc
6e your papa and yw mwasw a .hicrh.
6y e speak of your jouney home: but yo
M hle Iown-bred, Acad was so fill of the pie
ee gt" countryry lhft, t4am.tyo. f#It nodq mx|
#"W'G AIM 30U Wm w aaes d tAP l 94Za
happened during the harvest, as unforlunoi
ry"e. were fetchedt home the very dyq befen 4
kegan.









, .I









..,1 ,t i


I.,i
VA'n.













N M tele, I-.. fiil spa omsefa


Hrit my.. file an mohe duigfe .i
*1j Ipodte nilldt toebeoe
SANN WITHRRS.



I n *..
-,.,1 A 1, .

MYffWM e you know is ,Witiers, but as 1 once
Pegeu a1 sasubhjetngbte'r of sil todwarl and
yfAinheotiesly, t shall speak tof myself as
M t'tAesly, and call "sir Edward and lady
Harridt my Either and mother during (he period
I tdnpposed them entihlud to those beloved
names. When 1 was a little girl, it Was the
perpetual subject of my contemplation, that I
was ma heiress, and the daughter of a baronet;
t*at my mother was the honorable lady'Har.
flermat wehciad a nobler maxnion, infinitely
pleasure-igrotAnds, aind equipages more






.'.
4G TH1E C1ANGLL1SG.
S splendid than any ofthe nriglihouring familrn
tE Indeed, my good friendd, having observed.-
thing of this error of mine in either of the 1i7
A which have hitherto been related, I am ashba
to conf-:ss bhat a proud child 1 once sas. H!
it happened I cannot toll, bfor my father"
esteemed the bist bred mania it the county, rj
the condest.ension aind aflibilily of my mot--
were universally spoken of
S" Oh my dtar friend," said miss- c.
S was very natural indeed, it )oU supposed y
S pos'es.ced these advainlages. We make
comparative figure in ihe country, and my
lier %.,s originally a man of no coinsidetrati
S at all, und yet I can assure yon, both lie a,
mamnot had a pr',.ligiouS deal of trouble.
break me of this infirmity, \hlir I %%a, ve
S young." And do retiect fior a inmomnient,.
said, miss Villiers, '" from whlince cuuld pro
reed any pride in inmc-a poor curale's daug
Ler ;-at least any pride worth sp.caking of; C-
the dificults my itaihcr had to make me.-1
myself on ani equality with a miller's lit -
I "
1,|







TILE CHANGELING.


.sgqhter who visited me, did not seem an an-
tedote worth relating. My father, fro n his
pro&ssion, is accustomed to look into these
.ing 4 i nd whenever he has observed any tend-
.qia.1o this fault in me, and has made me sen-
uitWedpomy prror, I, who am rather a weak-
spirited girl, have been so much distressed at
his reproofs, that to restore me to my own goc4
opinion, he would make me sensible that pride
W a t .inseparable from hiuMn nature;
.uaewisg mne in our visits to the poorest labour-
l,.,hurw pride would, ns he expressed it,
r.,P.il.y peep out from under their ragged
j pfM.r-.My f(ntlerdeafly loved the poor. In
p.qnaqf a rank superior to our own humble
.,.rs.wanted net much assistance from my fa-
Atker'n mice discernment to know that it existed
itbf,;. amd for these latter he. would always
Khunam Iqleration foum me, which lie said
h-3e1 1rved was less milling to allow than to
i I-.former iistances. \e ,arc told in holy
.b.e would say,. that it is eaAier for a
,i go through the eye of" a ner'i!e, tha


F) I . 1 7.19








4 r TrtE C HANdPLfrG.
-for t rich man to enter into thle kingdNl

"Aeaven." Surely this is not meant alo0
warn the affluent : it must also be undefj
as an expressive illustration, to instrudli
S 'lowly-fortuiined man that ihe should bem'
those imperfection', inseparable from that'-A
genus prosperity from which he is hapl
',empt."-But we sadly interrupt y4
story.-
Yoan mre very kind, ladies, to speak 4
so much indulgence of my foible," said 0
Withers, and -as going to proceed, wi
iittle Louisa Manners asked, Pray are I
equipages carriagtes?" "Yes, miss Manmd
an equip-i.e is a carriage." Then I am '"
If mny papa had hut one equiipage I should
very proud ; for once when my papa talked
keeping a one-horse chaise, I never %as so pri
of any thing in my life: i used to dreitu
riding in it, and imagine I saw my playfelli
walking past me in the streets."
'" Oh, my dear miss Manners," replied a
Withers, your young heal might wel







I4-GlH ANGELINl. *4

hsftou new to you; but you have preached
a useful lesson to me in your own pretty ranm-
Mf dwory, which 1 shall not easily forget.
igMl.t wese speaking with inch delight of
IM. pinto the sight of a fanm-yard, an or-
S
amrwd, si a marrow slip of kitchen-garden
pweyoe od could for years preserve so.lively
tdo memory of oae short ride, and that pro-
aibl ythrutgh a flat uninereatingcountlry, I re-
tmmbet bhw sty I tamd to disregard the
fte of Matue, wanlas she were decked in pic.
WnagWesceme ; how wearisome our parks and
gtOhnds becaftie to- fe, unless some improve-
Mh& -tete going forward which I thought
otld'atruct ndicei buit those days aregone.
-Atwf fl now prcMl r my story, and bride
3jt acquainted with my real parents.
k kng! I am a thang ing, sdWbituted by my
ntdiAWt -htibe]reis of the Lfsley family: it
'ht fit by sake she -did this naugity deed;
'M, since the truth has been know n, it sees to
; I hid been he only iifferer by it; re.
.Iring no time when T was not Harriot


.3" :'., : :1:. .
.'- :. .
rbx





f- -

S 50 Tile e CHANGELING.
S Lesley, it seenis as if t hie change had taken -
me my birthright. '
L Lady Harriot had intended to nurse
S child herselF; but being seized with a vi
fever soon after its birth, she sias not only.
able to nurse it, but even to see it, for ser .
-eeks. I was not quite a mnnlth old at
i time, when my mother was hired to be ,=
S Lesley's nunrse-she had once been a ser
in the family-her ljgisband nas .hen at sea.,..
"*: She had been nursing miss Lesley a
days, ifica a girl %ho had the care of
brought me into the nursery to see my motl
It happened that she wanted something fro
her own home, which she dispatched theg
to fetch, and desired her to leave me till M
return. In her absence she changed our cloth
then keeping me to personate the child
ivns nursing, she sent away the daughter of
Ednsard to be brought up in her own poor
tage.
\Vlkin my mother sent away the girl,
affirmed she had not the least intention of c







THE CHANGELING. 51
"ling this bad action; but after she was left
alone with us, she looked on me, and then on
the liLttle lady-babe, and slhe wept over me to
think she was obliged to leave me to the charge
of a careless girl, debarred from my own natu-
ral food, while she was nursing another per.
son's child.
The laced cap and thie fine cambric robe of
thelittle Harriot were lying on tfie table ready
to be puton: Li these she dressed mne, only just
tosee how pretty her own dear baby would
look in missy's fine clothlies. Whlienshe sawme
thug adorned, she said to me, "0, my dear
Ann, you look as like missy as any liing can
he. I am sure my lady herself, if she were well
Congh to see you, would not knowi the differ-
Oce." She said these words aloud, and whilee
The Was speaking, a wicked thought came into
herI head-bow easy it wouldd he (o change
thee children On which she hastily dressed
Hairiot in my coarse raiment. She had no
tsit finished the transformation of misb Les-
ie a poor. Ann Withers, than the girl
.2







TTIL CIIAGEI.IN .


returned, and carried her away, withoil
leabt suspicion that it was not til(. same
that she had brought (hither. :
It was wonderful that no one discovered.l
I was not hIbe same child. Every fresh
'4
that came into the room, filled the nurse
terror. The servants slill continued to,1
their compliments to thle baby in (ihe same
as usual, saying, How like it is to its
Nor did sir Edward himself perceive the 4
ence, his lady's illness probably engrossh4
his attention at the time; though indeed ,
men seldom take much notice of very
ch i ld ren.
WhhLn lady Ilarriot began to recoverij

the nurse saw me in her arms caressed
own child, all fears of detecion were ove.
the pangs of remorse then seized her:
dear sick lady hung with tears of fondnB
me, she thought she should have died:
sorrow for having so cruelly deceived b
When I was a year old, Mrs. WiltJ
discharged; and because she had been !






Lj








THE CANCGEL'NG.


I .imrse me w ith uncommon care and aff clion,
and w.is so:, to hdd many tears at parting from
m;e, to reward her fidelity sir Edward settled
a small pInsion oni htier, anJ -he was allowed to
come every Sunday todine in the housekeeper's
rmemo, ani see he' little lady.
L When ser went home it might have been

Sexpect(d sihe would have neglected the child
S she had so wickedly stolen; instead of which
she nursed it with the greatest tenderness, being
very sorry for Ahat she had done: all the ease
sbhe could ever find for her troubled conscience,
was in her extreme care of this injured child;
and in the weekly visits to its father's house she
constantly brought it with her. At the lime I
have the earliest recollection of her, she was be-
come a widow, and with the pension sir Edward
allowed her, and some plain work she (lid for
our family, shie maintained herself and her sup-
posed daughter. The doting foi3idness she
shiewed for htier rliild was much talked or; it
w'us said,she isaiced upon it more like a servant
S tan mother, and it was observed, ils clolies
.n3


r -q







54 TIHE (HANGELING. '

%ere alwa s made, as far as her slender'
should permit, in the same fashion, and
hair cut and curled in the same form, as
T'o this person, as having been my Ca
nurse, and to lher child, I WL.i alanvs tang
Shew pairtlictl r ci rilily, ;iril the little gid..'
alas bought info the nursery to play
me. Ann was a little delicate thing, a
maikably %icll-'ehaved ; lbr licugh so
indulged in eerN other r'spctf, my mother
,erry attculive to hier maninners. '
As tie child grew older, my minofther be,
yrry uneasy iil-uut leer education. She wri
very desirous of having her it.ll-behaved, ,
she feared iosend her to school, Ilus She sho
earn ill inmanners among the village child
with whom she never suffered her to play;
she was such a poor scholar herself, that
cuild leach lier little or norhing. I heard I
rt.larT this her distres-,s to my ovin maid, w1
(itIrtb in her eyes, and I formti d a resoIntioJl
be' ofu my parents (eat I nI ight have'
for a co-npanien, and that lshe might'4


.4
Ti

fl1







THE CHANrELltO'C. 53

lowed to take lessons willth me of my gover-
RMSS.
My birth-d-iy was thenn approaching, and on
that day I was always indulged in (he privilege
of asking some peculiar favour.
S"And what boon lihas my annual petitioner
to beg to day ?" said my father, as he entered
the breakfast-roninm on themorningof my brlth-
day. Then I told him of the great anxiety
expressed by nurse Withers concerning licr
daughter; how much she wished it was in her
power to give her an education, that would
enable her to get her living without haid la-
bour. I set the good qualities of Ann Withers
nlathe best light I could, and in conclhtsion I
begged she might be permitted to partake with
me in education, and become my companion.
This is a v-ry serious request indeed, liar-
riot," said sir Edward, '- your mother and I
must consult together on the subject." The
result of this consultation was favourable (o my
wiahes; in a few weeksmy foster-sister a s taken







THE. CHANGEI.lNG.


into thI.- houst, arid placed under lthe tuith
iriy governor. 4
To ine, v he bad hitherto lived withoatJ
uiVnpiniiuins otf my own age except OCcUA-i
vis.ilors, the icda of a piay Fellow conslll
to a.ssciate uiith, waN r-ry pleasant ; andj 4
the firt- shyness of feeling ber altered situai
as ovter, Ann seemed as much at her easrn e
bhe had aliva)s been brou hl up in our h(o
I became very fund of her, and touk plea"
hin shewing hiter all manner o'f attentions; wb
bo far won on her affections, that she told mei,
had a secrett intrusted to her by her moth
uhicli she bad promised never to reveal asole
as her mother livedtl, but that she almost wish
to confide it to me, because I was suich a k$
friend to lier; 3el, havi:- promised never.

fell it till lie deat hi of her mother, she was afi
to tell it to ime. At first I aisured iher the;
n ,ild never press lherr o lie dli'clo.uiire, I
that promises of secrecy i%,re l' IN bd
%acri d : bitL hienever %ie It-ll iitu nm) cow







TIMe CHANGELING. 57

dential kind uol'cunversalion, this secret seemed
'always ready to come out. Whether she or I
-weremmost to blame I know nolt, though I own
I could not help giving frequent hints how
wll I could keep a sccnr. At length she told
me what 1 have before related, namely, that
Ae was in truth the daughter of sir Edward
S and lady Lesley, and I the child of her sup-
posed mother.
'When I w.as first in possession of this won-
derful secret, my heart burned to reveal it. I
thought how praiseworthy it would be in me
to restore to my friend the rights of her birth;
yet I thought only of becoming her patroness,
and raising her to her proper rank; it never
-occurred to me-that my own degradation must
necessarily follow. I endeavou red In persuade
:her to let me tell this important affair to my
parents: this she positively refused. I ex-
;pressed wonder that she shouki so faithfully
keep this secret for an unworthy woman, who
il her infancy had done her such an injury.
,'ON," said she, "you do not know how much
: D 5







THE CtHANGEING. "

into tfhe hoiie, and placed under the tuii.
my governor's. 1'
'1'o me, who had hitherto lived withoeul
,oinpanion% o'f my own age t-xcrpt o
vLitlors, the idea of a playfellow coal''
to associate %iili, was very pleasant ; andti
Lie first shyness of feeling her altered sil
%as over, Ann seemed as much at her eawA.
bhe ihad always been broushl up in our h
I became very fund of her, and look l
in shewing liher all manner ot'attentioas ;
so flar won on her affi'ctionif, that she told M
had a secret intrusted to her by her o
%ihiih she bad promised never to reveal as|
as her mother lived, but that she almostwi"
to confide it to me, because I was such a l
friend to her; yet, hiavini promised newa
tell it till tihie dath of her mother, she was alf
to tell it to me. At first I a-sured her 1W
Wild never press her to the dli'.clorIreP-
that promises ot' secrecy I'l In be IM
.acr. d but liieriever te l'l tIuto rliy evl

*i




_____.___... .. . .







TilE CHANGELING.


ikAtial kind ofruconversation, this secret seemed
ways ready to come out. Whether she or 1
-Vcmwost to blame I know not, though I own
1 could not help giving frequent hints how
.wel I could keep a secret. At length she told
mr what I have before related, namely, that
d was in truth the daughter of sir Edward
and lady Lesley, and I the child of her sup-
posed mother.
When I w-as first in possession of this won-
dmfil secret, my heart burned to reveal it. I
thought how praiseworthy it would be in me
,o restore to my friend the rights of her birth;
yetr I thought only of becoming her patroness,
sad raising her to her proper rank; it never
,occurred to me-that my own degradation must
atcessarily follow. I endeavoured Io persuade
iter to let me tell this important aflthir to my
pareMts : this she positively refused. I ex-
ipremed wonder that she should so faithlfully
keep this secret for an unworthy woman, who
ib hr infancy had done her such an injury.
*Wt Va" aid she, "you do not know how much
t' D5







Il riir CHANGELI N-.
she loves me, or you would not wonder h
never resent that. I have seen hier grieve
be so very sorry on my account, that I w
not bring her into more trouble for any g
that could happen to myself. She has
told me, thtt ,incc the day she changed us,d
ha never knonin what it is to have a happy
ient; and uhen she returned home from na
ing, you, finding me very thin and sickly,l
hir heart smote her for what she had done; al
then slhe iaurrd and feil me with such anxio
care, dithat shie grew much fonder of me than 4
I had benlI hCr own ; and that on the Sunday
vi hen she uwed to bring me here, it was moo
plckurc to her to see me in my own father1
Louse, than it was to her to see you her req
child. The shyness you shewed towards h
whileyou were very young, and the forced
i ity iou seemitd to aflrct as you grew oldec
always appeared like ingratitude towards ha
Aho had done so much for you. My molhe
has desired me to disclose hIbis after her dea*:
but I do not believe I hall ever mention itt"a





L_______ ^ ,i *a~







TIlE CHANGELING. 3U

for I should be sorry to bring any reproach even
en her memnry."
In a short time after this important discovery,
Ann was sent home to pass a few weeks with her
mother,on the occasion of the unexpected arrival
of some visitors to our house; they were to bring
children ith them, and these I was to consider
as my own guests.
In the cxpecied arrival of my young visi-
tants, and in making preparations to entertain
them, I had little leisure to deliberate on what
conduct I should pursue itlli regard to my
friend's secret. Something must be done I
thought to make her amends fur the injury she
had sustained, and I resolved to consider the
matter attentively on her return. Still my
mind ran on conferring favours. I never con-
sidered myself as transformed into the depend-
ant person. I Lideed sir Edward at this time set
me about a.task which occupied the whole of
my attention; he proposed that I should write a
little interlude alter the manner of the French
Pftilfs Pieces; and to try my ingenuity, no
1D6


Lah........




1

60 THE CHANG&LING. -
one was to see it before the represetaftim
cept the performers, myself and myr4
friends, who as they were all younger tkep4
could not be expected to lend me much
ance. I have already told you what a pq
girl I was. During the writing of thi4.j
the receiving of my young friends, and iA
structing themrn in their several panrts, I nev
myself of so much importance. WithA Un
pride bad somewhat slumbered; the diurei
of our rank left no room for competitiontM
was complacency and good humour on
part, and affectionate gratitude, tempered i
respect, on hers. But here I had full room
shew courtesy, to affect those graces, to ill
tate that elegance of manners practiced by I
Harriot to their mothers. I was to be thei i
structress in action and in attitudes, aadJ
receive their praises and their admiratioli
my theatrical genius. It was a new soen
triumph for me, and I might then be said tU
in the very height of my glory. jA
If the plot of my piece, for the inventive

*







THE CHANGELING. 61

hicb they so highly praised me, had be in.-
Onuo my own, all wauld have been well; but
smbappily I borrowed from a source which
WMid my drama end far differently from what I
ateundced it should. In Ikhe catastrophe I lost
Mto uly the name I personated in the piece, hbt
with it my own name also; and all my rank and
consequence in the world fled front me for ever.
-My father presented me with a beautiful
writing-desk for the ute of my new authorship.
My silver standith was placed upon it; a quire
of gilt paper was before me. I took out a par-
pdi of my best crow quills, and down 1 sate in
the greatest form imaginable.
I conjecture I have no talent for invention;
|smraia it is that wien I sate down to compose
L wr pieces, no story would come into my head,
bat the story which Ann had so lately related
tome. Many sheets were scrawled over in
in, I could think of nothing else; still the
tbies and tie nurse were before me in all the
S iuMiaui of description Ann had given them;
' Th tcUy atiue of the lady-babe,-Ithe homely





.1
62 THE CHnANGELING.
garb of the cotiage-infant,-the affectid
dress of tlie fond mother to her own offSpO
-then (lie charming iquivoqne in the e]
of tlie children: it all looked so drama
it was a play ready made to my hands. :
invalid mother would form the palhetiet'!
silly exclamations of ihe servants the ludic
and (the nurse was nature itself. It is true I!
a few scruples, that it might, should it coa
the knowledge of Ann, be construed into s
thing very like a breach of confidence.
she was at home, and might never happy
hearofthe subject of my piece, and it'she
vi by it was only making some handsome
logy.-To a dependanit companion, to whoi
had been so very great a friend, it was a
necessary to be so very particular about slad
trifle. L
Thus I reasoned as I wrote my drama, I
ginning with the title, which I called 1
Changeling," and ending with these wo
The curtain drops, uhile the lad/y clasps i
ab.y in her arm%, and the nurse sights audil,







THE CHANGELING.


liuvented no new incident, I simply wrote the
tory as Ann had told it to me, in the best
blank verse I was able to compose.
By the time it uas finished the company had
arrived. The casting the different parts was
my next care. The honourable Augustus
M- a young gentleman of five years
of age, undertook to play dhe father. He was
only to come in and say, How does myi little
darling do to-day Thle three Miss 's
were to be the servants, they too had only
single lines to speak.
As these four wi re all very young perform-
e, we made them rehearse many times over,
that they might walk in and out iith proper
decorum; but the performance was stopped
before their entrances and their exits arrived.
I complimented Lady Elizabeth, the sister of
Augustus, who was the eldest of the young
ladies, with the choice of the lady mother or
the nurse. She fixed on the former; she was
to recline on a sofa, and, affecting ill health,
'pk some eight or ten lines, which began







64 TFIE CHANGELING.
witb, 0 that I eoedd my prc;ows |
To her cousin Miss9 Emily --- ,nr'
the girl ,who had (he care of the nurse's-
two dolls were to p-ersonate thlie two ci
and the principal character of the nurse,
the plek.sure to perform myself. It c
several spj-eche,, and a very long
during the changing of Ihe children's eld
The elder brother of .urustus, a ge
of fileen years of age, \iho refused to
our childish drama, yet condescended o
(he scenes, and our dres-es were got up--
own maid.
When we thought miourselves quilt per
our several parts, we announced it for
seulation. Sir Edward and Lady Harri--ys4
their visitors, the parents oI my young ,.
comedians, honoured us with their ps
The servants were also 'permitted to go'
music gallery, which was at the end of a
room we had chosen for our theatre.
As author, and principal performer, "
before a noble audience, my mind was toOQ







ilH: CHANGELING,


;4dged with the arduous task I had undar-
htle, to glance my eyes towards the music-
lr, or I might have seen two more spec-
"ms there than I expected. Nurse Withers
ad her daughter Ann were there; they had
ha invited by the housekeeper to be pre-
tml at the representation of Miss Lesley's
l*y
'- In the midst of (he performance, as !, in the
*im oter of he nurse, was delivering tbe Wrong
kid to the girl, there was an exelamation
ft 'the music-gallery, of" Oh it's all true !
it's all ti ue!" This was followed by a bustle
fleng the servants, and screams as of a person
ui-a hysteric fit. Sir Edward came forward to
inquire what was the matter. Hlie saw it was
rn. Witiers who had fallen into a fit.' Ann
VU weeping over her, and crying out, 0 Miss
Itiley, you h:ive tuld all in the play !"
birs. \V iihters vias bronglit out into the bait-
m ; Ihere, vi illi r.irs and in broken accents,
V"l every ,ign oflttrror and r'a.-orse, she Foon
*tf,
,:L


MEEr-







66 THE CHANCELiN6.

made a full confession of her so lanige
guilt.
The strangers, assembled to see .our
mimicry of passion, were witness Ia
wrought dramatic SccnII in real life. J4
tended dthy should sce the curtain (lldo
any discovery of the deceit; unabloa
any new incident, I left the conclusU
perfect as I found it : but they saw awo
poetical justice done ; they saw theo.J
child restored to its parents, and then
wliecmed with shame, and threatened j
severest puniliment. ,
r" 'ake this woman," said Sir EdwndA
lock her up, till she bedelivered into thq
ofjustice." -
Ann, on her knees, implored mercy
mother. -Addre-ssiiig t(lie children, wl
gathered round her," PDear ladies," sa,
" help me, on your knees help me, to b!
givenness for my mother." Down the
ones all dropped,--even Lady Elizabotl




-I----


STIHE CHANGELING. 67
Aknee. Sir Edward, pily her distress.
AlErJdward, pardon her!" All joined in the
4tion, except one whose voice ought to have
l'3t loudest in the appeal. No word, no ac-
-came from me. I hung over Lady Har-
'ls'achair, weeping as itf my heart would
ihk; but I wept for my own fallen fortunes,
.ftr my mother's sorrow.
4Ip thought within myself, If in the integrity
.*Wty heart, refusing to participate in this un-
secret, I had boldly ventured to publish
%b truth, I might have had some consolation
:t the praises which so generous an action
Iti d have merited: but it is through the
mity of being supposed to have written a
SWlMty story, that I have meanly broken my
. RIFA with my friend, and unintentionally pro-
S ithe disgrace of my mother and myself."
ilethouglits like these were passinl through
4Mind, Ann had obtained my mother's par-
Instead of being sent away to confine-
aid the horrors of a prison, she was given
ir Edward into the care of the housekeeper,






68 THE CHANGELING.
who hnd orders from Lady Ilarriot t
put to bed and properly attended to,
this wretched woman had fallen into St
Ann would have followed rmy m
sir Edward brought her bazk, (illingi'
she should see her ,-hen she was
then led Amt towards lady Hlarri filt,
to embrace her child; she did so,
her, as I had phrased it in (he play, J
her mother's arms.
This scene had greatly afReted the
lady Harriot; through (bthe whole of
with difficulty she had been kept fromij
and she was now led into Ithe drawigi
the ladies. The L,'nldemen foliloiweJ,.
with sir Elmard of the a:ir)nilhiog b(a
I filial affclie n thlty h:ild just seen in
pleadiiias of tlie child flor her sup..
thcr. .
Ann 1too went u ith them, and was
hby her % liin I hii adluavs considn'"
o%%I pearl, iilar friend. L:ld. I Eli.-I
hold ut her I.,,,, id J.iid.. 1l., i






STHE CHANGELING. 69
Wk permit me to conduct you to the drawing-

.4ws left weeping behind the chair where
HrHarriot had sale, and, as I thought, quite
A something had before twitched my
t two or three times, so slightly 1 had
peoly noticed it; a little head now peeped
d and looking up in my face said, "She
"mt miss Lesley :" it was the young Augus-
Ib he had been sitting at my feet, but 1 had
0 observed him. He then started up, and
hking old of my hand with one of his, with
rather holding fast by my clothes, he led,
Pr:ather dragged me, into the midst of the
MU.ipany a-semhled in the drawing-room.
Sh vehemence of his manner, his little face as
lM fire, caught every eye. The ladies
Plsd, and one gentleman laughed in a most
ueliog manner. His elder brother patted
an the ihead, andsaid, You area humane
|fellow. Elizabeth, we might have thought


*. . ,






O0 THE CHANGELING.
Very kUind words were now spoken
sir Edward, and be called me i arriot, ]
name now grown to me. Lady Hari
Ime, and said she would never forget bIs
she bad loved me as her child. ThlI
comfortable words; but I heard echu4
the room, "Poor thing, she cannot held
am sure she is to be pitied.-Dear l
riot, how kind, how considerate you aml.
what a deep sense of my altered conditi
then feel! ?.
SLet t1he young ladies divert theme
another room," said sir Edward; and4
riot, take your new sistr with you, and4j
her to entertain 3our friends." Yes, heol
me Jlarriot again, and afterwards inyvma
names for his daughter and me, and
called us by them, apparently in jestit
knew it was only because he would nat:i
me iith hearing our names reversed. L
sir Edward desired us to shew the child"1t1
another room, Ann mand 1 walked towi



1

^...-.. ilt^







STHE CHANGELING. 71
ft A new sense of humiliation arose-how
M1I go out at the door before miss L.sley ?
ll0od irresolute; she drew back. 'The elder
Sof my friend Augustus assisted me in
luWIexily; pushing us all forward, as if
ikllayful mood, lie drove Us indiscriminately
H0 him, saying, I will make one among
wMto-day." Hlie had never joined in our
Pft Wore.
dlackless Play, that sad instance of my
Niidty, was never once mentioned to me
hllads, not even by any one of the chil-
*Who had acted in it, and I must also tell
W.how considerate an old lady was at the
!tUbout our dresses. As soon as she per-
i things growing very serious, she hastily
WPdoff the upper garments we wore to re-
our different characters. 1 think I
Whave died with shame, if the child had
B6iato the drawing-room in the mummery
WwoMn to represent a nurse. This good
of another essential service to me: for
g an irresolution in every one how


For- i"IT







71 THE CHANNELING.
they should behave to us, which i
very much, she contrived to place.l
above me at table, and called her |
and me miss Withers; saying at tieWl
in a low voice, but as ifshbe meant I *4
her, it is better these things showlU
once, then they are over." My. |
her, for I felt the truth of what she
My poor mother continued very Mi
weeks: no medicine would remove ti
dejection of spirits she laboured I
Eduaid sent fur the clergyman ofl.
to give her religious consolation.
he came to visit her, and he would kdi
miss Lesley and me into the room vi|
think, miss Villiers, your tfatlier
such another man as Dr. Wheel
thy rector; just so I think lie l
soothed the troubled conscience
pentant motlier. How feelingly, hot,
used to talk or mercy and forgivemBa
Mly heart was softened hy mytl
tuits, and theaight of may pen





.".r






V, "IIIE CHANOELINO. 7,
.I tlt that she was now my only pa-
l t aLcove, earnestly strove, to love her; yet
v, hen I looked in her face, she would seem
t.o be the very identical person whom I
have once thought sufficiently honoured
p slight inclination of the head, and a civil
h.do you do, Mrs. Withers ? One day, as
isLsley was hanging over her, wilh her
Sfondne.,, Dr. WVhec Iding reading
sp ayer-book, anJ, a, I thought, not at that
r regarding us, 1 lhiew myself on my
wand ,idieudly prayed that I too might be
lto love my mother.
'l4 Wheelding had been observing me : lie
.Me ,into the garden, and drew from me
of my petition. Your prayers,
young lady," said he, '"' I hope are
I sure I am they have caused me to adopt
tliU,-whicb, as it w ill enable you to see
infrequently will, I hope, really
ruear. piou S % 1 IC>.
..Wil take your mutler hornet %ilh me to
Smy family. Under my roof doubt.




L ....r... .~l







7t THE CIHANCELIN'G. i
1,
less sir Edward will often permit you (o4
Perform your duty towards her as well
possibly can.-AfTfection is the growth of
With such goo3 wishes in your young
do not despair that in due time it will
cdly spring up." *f
With the approbation of sir Edndti
lady Hflarriolt, my mother was removed mil
days to Dr. Wheclding's house: them
soon recovered-there lshe at present ra
She tells me she loves me almost as well a
did when I was a baby, and we both wc
parting when I came to school. ,i
Here perhaps I ought to conclude my il
which I fear has been a tedious one : permit
however to say a few words, concerning
time which elapsed since the discoveryoi
birth until my arrival here.
It was on the fifth day of -- that I
known to be Ann Wilhers, and the daq
of my supposed nurse. The company
were wi:ness to my di-grace departed in a
Says, and I felt relieved from some part o1





-. ,.ai*.. N ii


I




U- -


'i TUE CHANGELING. 75

: --ion I hourly experienced. For every
: instance even of kindness or atledlion I
"" ced went to my heart, that I should be
Sto feel thankful for it.
f umstanced as I was, surely I had nothing
Sto complain of. The conduct of sir
and lady ilarriot was kind in the cx-
still preserving every appearance of a
1 tenderness for me, but ah I might no
call them by the dear names of father
*imother.-Formerly when speaking of them,
proud of their titles, to delight to say,
SEdward or lady Harriot did this, or this;"
Would give worlds to say, "My father
mother."
be perfectly unkind if I were to
of miss Lesley-indeed, I have not
t cause of complaint against her. As
pinion, her affection and her gratitude
unbounded; and now that it was my
be the humble friend, she tried by every
i her power, to make me think she
6ame respectful gratitude, which ia
E 2



i . ..." o ...







76 THE CHANGEETNO.
her dependant station she had s6 h
played.
Only in a few rarely constituted in..
that trur affentive kindness spring np 4:
licacy of feeling, which enters into evez)
thing, is ever awake and keeping Wet
should offend. Myself, though edna,4
the extremes care, possessed but itt1i
virtue. Virtue I call it, though amoag4
is termed politeness, for since the dayA.
humiliating reverse of fortune I have 16
value.
I feel quite ashamed to give inslanuii4
deficiency I observed, or thoughtt I
served, in miss Lesley. Now I am aw4
kher, and dispassionately speaking of itfl
as if my own soreness of temper had A
fancy things. I really believe nowth"
mistaken; but miss Lesley had been w-s4
praised for her tilial tendi-trnies-s, I their
last she seemed to make a par ide about i
used to run up to my mother, and fMA
more glad to see her than she really vu'





"i







THE CHANGELING.


|,;, and 1 thiink Dr. Wheelding thought so,
little hint he once dropped. But be too
t be mistaken, for lie was very partial to


fiam under the greatelt obligation in the world
,Mhis good Dr. WVheldinmz. lie has made
mother quite a respeclabile woman, anid I
|wue it is owing a great deal to hinm that she
7 e.ie as well as she does.
lV& here, though it may senate a little out of
|lteblet me slop to assure you, that if I ever
flI have had any doubt of the sincerity of
JM Lesley's affection towards me, her beha-
W ttron the occasion of my coming here ought
'qIIetely to efface it. She entreated wilth
.i tears, and almost the same energy with
TOc ishe pleaded for forgiveness for my mo-
,that I might not be sent away.-But
lV' not alike successful in her supplica-


)inll Lesley had made some progress in
-0wI and writing during the time she was
41A, F E


- ~


(__-^_,--. liHU-funil*... ,.







75 TIF CHA NGELING.
my companion only, it was highly .
that every exertion should be now ..
whole house vaq, as I may say, in
for her instruction. Sir Edward ai
Harriot devoted grreat part of the daA
purpose. A iell educated young ii
taken under our governess, to assist ]
labours, and to (eaicli miss Lesley au.
drawing-mnaster was engaged lo residw0
house.,
At this time I was not remarkably fo,
my education. My governess being al
France, I spoke French very correctM
had made some progress in Italianal4
only had the instruction of masters d
few months in the year we usually
London. j
Music I never had the least ear for,-'
s.eircely be taught m9 notes. This'd
me %as nlway' particularly regretted by.4
thlier, she being' an excellent perfonnrn
both on the piano and on the harp. ''



'i







STHE CUASGEI.ING. 79

FuAthink I have sjme taste for dia% iag; butas
lO Har'1 did lnot particularly excel in this.
L so much litho in (lie summer months,
tising onilv under my governess, that I
ldlc no grcal proficiincy even in this my fa-
I tite art. But miss Lesley wilh all these
Wages uhich I have nanimed, everybody
eager to instruct her, she so willing to learn
y thing so new and delightl'ful to her,
..could it happen otherwise? she in a short
became a little prodigy. What best
bud lady Harriot was, after she bad con-
41ped the first difficulties, she discovered a
Il"derful talent for music. Here she was her
qtiliter's own girl indeed-she had the same
Cit-loued voice-tie same delicate finger.--
Mu. musical governess had little now to do; for
Sas lady Hlarriot perceived this excel-
in her, she gave up all company, and
her whole time to instructing her
hter in this science.
.;othing makes the heart ache with such a
..ess, heavy pain, as envy.


E




'7

SI II: CHA 'NC. I.INC. G

1 had felt deeply before, but till
not be said to envy miss Leley.-Al
the notes of the harp or'lthe pian@f%
sounds to me, of the loss of a lovd
heart.
To iave, in a manner, two mothers
Lesley to engross them both, was
indeed.
It was at this lime that one day A
wearied with hearing lady Harriot {
long piece of Haydn's music after at
hier enraptured danughter. We wefrt'
with our governess to Dr. Wheeldi
morning; and after lady Harriot
room, and te were quite ready for .1
miss Lesley would not leave the instrili
I know not how long.
It was on that day that I thought ihi
quite honest in her expressions of joy Oi
of my poor mother, aho had been wai
garden-gate near Iwo hours oIn see b"
yet she might be, for the music had pG
remarkably good spirits that moraingc


............







THE CHANGELING. 81
0 the music quite, quite won lady Hlarriot's
brt! Til! miss Lesley began to play so well,
ie often lamented the time it would lake, be-
fore her daughtbler would have the air of a per-
t of fashion's child. It was my part of the
imeral instruction to give her lessons on this
bad. We used to make a kind of play of it,
which we called lectures on fashionable man-
SMIE: it uias a pleasant amusement to mrue, a sort
of keeping up the memory of past times. But
Now th miisic was ahiays in the way. Thelast
bea it ais talked of, lady tlarriot said her
dMthter's lime was too precious to be taken up
Oth such trifling.
I must own that (lthe music had that effect
mi's Ledley as to render ithe.e lectures less
L tftssarr, whieh I will explain to you; but,
*t, let me assure yuu that lady Hdrriot was
, 0 o mean r in Ihe li,.ibit or" saying these kind
dthings. it wab nlintt a solilary instance.
|ould give you a thousand instances the very
*erieof tlii', in her us %vell as in sir Edward.
SOw kindly, how fietquecnily, would they re-

E 5








8i TIE CHIANCELTNC.

mind me, that to me alone it was o*i.
they ever knew tliceirchild! calling ihi
which I was a petitioner for the admitW
Anne into Ihe house, the blessed birthday
generous girl.
Neither dancing, nor any foolish +
could do much for miss Lesley, she it
wanting in gracefulness of carriage; buti
is usually attributed to dancing, mi
fecledl. 'Wben she was sitting beSt
instrument, a resemblance to her mot6
came apparent to every eye. Her 41
and the expression of her countenancey
very same. This soon followed her in.
thing; all was ease and natural gr
Ilhe muic, and iwilh it the idea of W
riot, was always in her thoughts. I
pretty sight to see the daily improvemai
person, even to me, poor envious gill
was. .
Soon after lady Ilarriot hdid hurt mel
ing my little (dforts to improve hexd
Yr:lflriit she mnade me large amends.if
M'I.


'.2 .


!1








STIlt CHIANGELING. 83

and most unreserved conversation that she
With me.
r.flue told me all the struggles shie had had at
f to feel a maternal tenderness for her daugh-
Ikt; and she frankly confessed that she had

n gained so much on her affections, that she
Irwed she had too much neglected the solemn
flIMnisR she had made me, Nner Ito forget how
iowg she had lored me as her child.
Encouraged by her returning kindness, I
ined holv much I had suffelred, and ventured
A$ express my fears, that I had hardly courage
aonMgh to bear the sight of my former friends,
under a new designation, as I must now appear
Them, on our removal to London, which was
WeMlected to take place in a short time.
t9A few days afier this she told me in thegten-
J manner possible, that sir Edlward and her-
were of opinion it would conduce to my
Apiness to pass a year or two at school.
!I knew that tILis proposal vas kindly in-
Oded to spare me the mortifications I so much
; therefore I endeavoured to submit
k6


- -. S.-


-I9 W -- I ^ -- - ^ ^ .


-A







84 THlE CHANGELING., ,,
to my hard fate wilh cheerfulness, ,w4-p
myself, not without reluctance, to .uin ,
sion which had been the scene of r,e H
ertnjoymenLs, and latterly of such very N
feelings.


* AM'-i -.


AM'!













S-4 IV.


ELINOR FORESTER.






o WHEN I was very young, I had the misfor-
tiune lo lose my mother. My father very soon
*imrriel again. In the morning of (lthe day on
: which Ih it coent t)i'k place, my father str me
':t# his knee, and, as lie often used to do after the
dnth of" my mother, lie called me his dear
B14ittleorphaned Elinor, and Ihen he asked me if
o14d miss Saville. I replied Yes." Then
eI.t aidtliis lenr Ildy was going to be so kind as
e married to him, and that she was to live
us, and be my mamma. My fiathlier told
isiNvili such pleasure in his looks, that I







86 THE FATIERL'S WEDDING-DAV#4

thought it must be a very fine thing
have a new mamma; and on his saykdp
time for me to be dressed against his refw
church, I ran in grt at spirits to (eH li
news in the nursery. I found inmy maidsl
house-maid looking oul of the wiudLol
my fatherget in(o his carriage, which ",
painted : the servants had new liveries,
white ribbands in their hats; and then I.
ceived my father had left off his moe
The maids were dr,.sed in new coloured p
and white ribbands. On the table I saw4
S muslin frock, trimmed with fine lace "|
me to put on. I skipped about the roe
w an ecstasy. ;4
When the carriage drove from the doa
*' housekeeper came in to bring the maimj
white gloves. I repeated to her the wq
had just heard, that that dear lady
Saville was going to be married to..l
and that she was to live with us, and hJ
mamma. .
The housekeeper shook her head, ands



a !
._ .-~ ... .








S THE FATTIER'S WEDDING-DAY. 87

thing! how soon children forget every


.1 could not imiaine what she meant by my
geting every thing, for I instantly recollected
yeaor mamma used to say I had an excellent
yimmory.
The women began to draw on (heir white
. gloves, and ihe seams relnding in several places,
An. inne said, "This is jnst the way our gloves
:- Mned us at my mistress's funeral." The other
. lbecked her, and said "Hush !" I was then
'tinkingo some instance in which my mamma
.lad praised my memory, and this reference to
1- funeral fixed her idea in my mind.
* From the time of her death no one had" ever
'r.tpoken to me of my mamma, and I had appa-
'i..ttly forgotten her; yet I had a habit which.
W'1rhaps had not been observed, of taking my
":'%lle stool, which had been my mamma's tbo(-
1, and a doll, which my mamma had dressed
i me, while she was silting in her elbow-chair,
er head supported with pillows. With these
Smy bauds, J used to go to the door of the

-, I .






S8 TIHE ATHft.I WEDDING-DAy.'.


room in Ahich I had seen her in her Iasq
and naf' r i r) intg to oprn it, and peepingtq
the ke. holh, from vi hence I could ,
gliiimp.e of the crimson curtains, I used:i
down on the stool belbre (lithe door, a4-
with my doll, and sonictimes sing to I
ma's pretty song, of B:alow my babe;I
latin,, a's iell a, I could, the iieak
which she uswd to silg it to me. MysT
had a very sweet voice. I remember noh
gentle tone in i hicli she used to say mYI
difl not disturb her. Whvben I wasdresed in my new Frock,[ 4
poor mamma was alive to set' how fine I 4
papa's weddin-.day, andt I ran to my fa..i
station at Iher bed-room door. There.
thinking of my mamma, and trying to rem4a
exactly how ,he used to look; because I d
ishbly imagined that miss Saville was fJ
changed into something like mr own MqCl
hose pale and delicate appearance inIhdl
illness swas all that I retained of her reai!
brance.



-an*3