violets, sweet violets for little Bell; and these are daisies, pretty white daisies, that look like stars, and I will make Bell a cowslip ball." And thus the little girl went on talking to her favourite cousin, while the eyes of the lesser one quite watered with wonder and delight.

In the meantime Betty was combing and curling Miss Susan's hair, and changing her shoes and stockings, the nurse being engaged with the baby; and thus the time wore on, till the cook, putting her red face in at the door, said, "Now, Betty, now come."

"No, no," said Susan, "Betty must stay to finish dressing me."

"You are not to have your frock on, Miss Susan," said Betty,"till the dinner is gone out of the parlour." "But I must," said Susan. "Betty, you shall not go."

Betty pulled her apron out of Susan's hands, for she had taken hold of it, and ran out of the nursery; on which the little girl attempting to follow her, the nurse was forced to bolt the door, and drawing her back, she made her sit down by her, and gave her a lump of sugar to keep her quiet. Little Charles, who was dropping asleep just as the nurse was forced to get up to bolt the door, began to cry at the same moment, and little Bell, being alarmed at the bustle, threw down her flowers, and joined in the cry.

"Do, Miss Constance, try to keep her quiet," cried the poor nurse, " or I shall go out of my senses with one thing and another; do, there is a dear young lady." "I will, nurse, I will," replied the little girl. "She begins to be tired of throwing the flowers about, but I have thought of something new," and with great readiness she snatched a doll from a chair which stood near, and hiding the doll under the flowers-" Look, little Bell," she said, "look, look, dolly is lost-all gone. Ah, there she is; Bell has found the doll." This joke served so many good turns, that the first, and even second course, were nearly over, before its delights were exhausted.

"In the meantime, Susan, having sucked her sugar and licked her lips and her hands, began to tease the poor nurse to put on her frock; and so tiresome she was, that when the nurse had at last got Master Charles to sleep, and put him in his cradle, she took down the

frock, which was of fine wrought muslin, from a peg on which it had hung ever since the morning, and tied it on with the pink sash and necklace, after which she fixed the cap on her head; but this was hardly done when the footman, looking in at the nursery door, said, "They want the Indy preserves, nurse: do you know where they are ?"

"Yes," she said, "I will reach them in a minute; they are in a closet on the lobby."

"Cook has looked for them there already; come, for your life," said the footman, "you won't be a minute; I will hold the candle."

The nurse having charged the children not to stir, ran out on the lobby to look for what was wanted. Susan, in the meantime, followed her quietly to the door, and bolted it upon her; a trick which she was very fond of playing, as it was one which had more than once got the servants into a scrape, and afforded her much amusement.

As soon as this was done, the little naughty girl took the candle from the table, and walked to the lookingglass to look at her cap.

In those days, for we are telling a story which happened forty years ago, children's caps were formed upon a frame of wire made to fit the head, and adorned with gauze, lace, and artificial flowers, standing up very high above the forehead.

Susan, while examining all the fine colours and beautiful ornaments of her cap, put the candle so close to the gauze that it took fire, and the next minute her whole head-dress was in a blaze, the flames rising up over her brow, burning her hair, and scorching her cheeks. She screamed dreadfully, and called her nurse; but the naughty child had bolted the door, and no one could come in.

There was therefore none to help in this time of dreadful need but little Constance, who, springing up from her corner, seized the flaming cap and threw it on the hearth; in doing which she burnt her own hands, though she saved her cousin's life; for had the flames caught the muslin frock, a child like this could not have put them out; and had it been the fashion then to tie the cap on as it now is, Susan's life probably could not have been preserved.

The screams from the nursery had by this time called

every person from every part of the house, for Charles, Bell, and Constance had joined their cries to those of poor Susan. Neither were any of the children, in their fright, able to unbolt the door, so that no one could understand what was the matter till the door was forced open; and a dreadful sight it then was to see Susan, with her face all in red blisters, and the hair almost burnt from her head, while the ashes of the cap yet appeared on the hearth.

The first thing that was to be done was to apply what was needful to the burns of Susan. She was laid in bed, and a surgeon sent for. She suffered great pain, and while she lived she never lost the mark of the scar on one side of her face. But while some were sorry for Susan, and some blamed her mother, and said she was rightly punished for her selfish indulgence of her child, every one saw reason to admire the fruits of that wisdom and piety which leads a good parent to bring up his child in habits of obedience, and induces him to accustom his infant children rather to serve and oblige their fellow-creatures than to indulge and please themselves.

From this time, Mrs. Burton never presumed to say that little hands might not be rendered useful; for, humanly speaking, had it not been for the little hands of Constance, poor Susan would have lost her life.

From that period I am happy to say that Mrs. Burton was ever attentive to any advice which might be given to her by her sister on the management of her children; and from that period she never held her hand from giving that salutary correction by which a pious parent hopes to save his children, with the divine blessing, from far more serious trials in after life.

CAROLINE MORDAUNT;

OR,

THE GOVERNESS.

CHAPTER I.

I AM now arrived at that period of life, and, I thank God, to that state of mind, in which I can look back at the various adventures of my past years with no other feelings than those of gratitude to that Divine Providence which has rendered every apparent accident, and every difficulty which I have encountered in my passage down the stream of time, more or less subservient to my everlasting welfare: for I cannot doubt but that the peace I have enjoyed during some of the latter years of my life is no other than an earnest of that perfect rest in which I hope to enter, through the merits and death of my Divine Redeemer.

My history naturally divides itself into distinct portions, as will hereafter appear; and if my reader is interested in my first essay, I shall introduce him into other scenes of my life; not doubting that he will be enabled to profit by those things which I shall communicate. Yet, let it be first premised, that, although according to a well-known grammatical rule, I have addressed my reader as if I supposed him to belong to the more honourable sex, yet my history is, in fact, more adapted for the study of that portion of the human race which are counted of least importance by the grammarian, and the most worthy of honour by the member of polished life.

My Christian name is Caroline, and my paternal name was Mordaunt. My father was in the church; but I was deprived of him and of my mother while yet in my tender infancy. A few hundred pounds were all he left behind him. After much consultation among my rela

tions, this small sum was tendered to a respectable lady keeping a boarding-school near town, on condition that she would take charge of me until my nineteenth year, and prepare me to obtain my own living as a private governess. The lady entered into the agreement with my relations, and performed her part with strict honour, upon the whole, rendering my childhood happy, and certainly doing her best to prepare me for what my friends intended me to become. But although for her day, for I am speaking of nearly half a century past, she was accounted a highly-accomplished person, yet she was, in fact, totally ignorant of all valuable information, and knew nothing of vital religion. Her views of morality were quite commonplace, so that her seminary was merely an ordinary place of education, and the characters formed therein were of the most ordinary description. Though, with regard to accomplishments, we were certainly somewhat above par, for we had a teacher from Paris, who spoke French perfectly well, and knew how to touch the harp in a superior style.

I was only four years old when I was placed in this establishment, and in the fourteen years which were before me I must have been cruelly neglected, or have been naturally very stupid, if I had not acquired most of what was taught in the house; and as I had rather a genteel person, a good carriage, and an agreeable manner, I was considered, for several years before I left the family, as a sort of ornament to the establishment, and was always brought forward in strong relief whenever any thing like an exhibition was to be got up.

It cannot therefore be questioned but that I had a tolerably good opinion of myself, and that I expected, when I got out into the world, that every one was to give way to me, as my young companions had been accustomed to do for some years.

When I was eighteen years of age the term of the agreement between my relations and my governess was at an end, and about this time an elderly cousin of mine, who was in fact my guardian, wrote to inform my governess that he had spoken in my favour to a certain lady of quality, who wanted an instructress for her only daughter, and that this high preferment might be obtained for me, if she (my preceptress) would vouch for my being fit for the situation. My cousin was a man of business to the husband of this lady, and had thus