I had rather a wayward talent for music, that could not be confined to notes, and a love of modelling. These were my only gifts. Meantime I looked within, to see if I was profiting by the lessons I gathered from those around me. They were of use to me in the ruling of my kingdom in this way. When Isabel was under the influence of one of her gusts, strong were the rules and stern the measures taken to prevent my dominions being visited by a similar hurricane, because the fragile plants of forbearance and good temper were not yet sufficiently rooted to resist the attack. When she made atonement by frank and generous admission of error, I gathered the seeds of her words, and planted them deeply and strongly in a soil not only of good resolves but of common sense-putting near them the plants of experience and nobility of nature; by which I hoped to avoid the necessity of ever having to make such admissions, while the antidote for them should never be wanting.

From Georgy I gathered the fruits of industry and perseverance, carefully selecting those that belonged of right to me and my kingdom, while I abstained from touching others without leave or license. An acrimonious and biting herb of recrimination I could not bear, bringing in its company sharp words, not always true, yet ever bitter. I planted in my kingdom great stores of peace and soft words, but could not have among them my aunt's familiar, but somewhat too friendly interest in her neighbour's matters. Many stories, idle and untrue, fell upon the quick ears of Georgy with an effect her mother neither knew or could define, as she listened, with indolent satisfaction, to any one who would pour them forth for her amusement. And as the love grew upon her in greater and increasing eagerness, so did her perception of their worthlessness and impropriety lessen. Isabel only understood things by the judgment of her own heart, and thinking no wrong herself, escaped unscathed from the contamination of such gossip.

My uncle contributed also to enrich my little kingdom with experiences necessary to cope with the world in which I was about to plunge. If I liked the sincerity and fervour with which he carried out a theory, so did I perceive, with the quick instinct of a child's wit, that he was not always judicious in the time and method of proposing it. A little time spent in wisely consulting my aunt would have pleased her, occupied her mind, and given rather more of solidity and thought to his plans than was habitual to him. He would not have had to abandon some almost as soon as tried, or to give up others at a mortifying cost to himself. But he was so earnest and true, so thoroughly free from anything small or depressing, so frank, so exhilarating in his views of life and its duties, that existence became a charm beneath his roof, and nothing ungrateful or thankless could live with him. No matter the subject-let it be the weary toil of daily tasks, the turmoil of a domestic quarrel, the painful tale of a sudden and unfor

seen death, the words that came from his lips were healthful and good. We sprang with fresh vigour to our tasks-we blushed at the meanness of a quarrel-we quailed not at the immediate presence of death. "Little Nellie," said

he, "how large your eyes grow and eager! Do you wish to die and leave us ?"

"I do not fear death, uncle."

'May you never do so, little child; but it is strange for one so young to have that wistful glance. Are you happy?"

"Yes, uncle, like the bird on a tree."

"And you love God?"

"Could I live, and not do so?"

"Good child! When your work is done, and

done well, God will send His gentlest angel

down,' and restore you to your parents. But

you must wait, Nellie-' abide in patience.'"

CHAPTER IX.

"He most lives,

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best."

BAILEY.

"I KNEW I must wait. Hardly was my

business begun.

About this time came a letter from Lady Maria Forest, not only enquiring after me, her ward, but desiring my presence. I liked not the look of the letter. The characters of the handwriting did not please me; the letters were small and half-formed, and a general species of scratchiness about the whole look of it, was unpleasant. Perhaps the pen was of the sort, spluttery, yet would not that have given an ungraceful twitch to the long-tailed letters. Perhaps I found that