BNnrEKSITY OP 
 
 NOP?*? CAROLINA 
 
 , , 
 
 chool of Library 
 Science 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/edgeworthsrosamo02edge 
 
SU 
 
 
 OKI 7W© VOLOTiS^: 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 MTJNROE & FRANCIS. 
 
This series of Masia Edqeworth'b EARLY LESSONS 
 
 consists of 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY 1 vol. 
 
 ERANK 1 vol. 
 
 SEQUEL TO ERANK 2 vols 
 
 ROSAMOND 2 vols. 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY CONCLUDED 4 vols. 
 
 To De had separately, as ahove, — or all together, in 
 5 thick volumes. 
 
SEQUEL TO ROSAMOND. 
 
 TO PARENTS. 
 
 T> OSAMOND, when we last saw her, in the days of the Black 
 Bonnet, the India Cabinet, and the Microscope, was, we 
 believe, about nine or ten years old. This sequel to her history 
 comprises about three years, from ten to thirteen. Her biogra- 
 pher mentions this to prevent mistakes, and to insure the ad- 
 vice, the entreaty, that this book may not be read at an earlier 
 age. 
 
 The same principles will here be found as in all the preceding 
 Early Lessons ; but applied to those new views of character, 
 new thoughts, feelings, and objects, which present themselves 
 at this time of life. Young readers will still see in Rosa- 
 mond's less childish, but ever fluctuating mind, an image of 
 their own. Few may have her infinite variety of faults, follies, 
 and foibles ; but some of her youthful errors will probably fall 
 to the share of each, and some passing likeness will be continu- 
 ally caught by the young, or imputed by the old. May all, who 
 are at any time conscious of resembling Rosamond, or reproach- 
 ed with being like her, imitate her constant candor, and follow 
 her example in that ardent, active desire to improve, by which 
 she was characterized in childhood, still more in youth, which 
 made her the darling of her own family, and which will, we 
 hope, influence generous strangers in her favor. 
 
 Though the following little volume'' is not intended for young 
 children, yet it is not here attempted to give what is called a 
 knowledge of the world, which ought not, cannot be given pre- 
 maturely. 
 
 It is the object of this book to give young people, in addition 
 to their moral and religious principles, some knowledge and 
 control of their own minds in seeming trifles, and in all those- 
 
 696736 
 
4 TO PARENTS. 
 
 lesser observances on which the greater virtues, often remotely, 
 but necessarily depend. This knowledge, and this self-com- 
 mand, which cannot be given too early, it is in the power of all 
 to attain, even before they are called into the active scenes of 
 life. Without this, all that gold can purchase or fashion give, 
 — all that masters, governesses, or parents can say or do for 
 their pupils, — will prove unavailing for their happiness, because 
 insufficient for their conduct. But, with this power over their 
 own minds, confirmed by habit, and by conviction of its utility 
 and its necessity, they may, in after life, be left securely to their 
 own guidance ; and thus, early lessons judiciously given, will 
 prevent the necessity of late lectures. 
 
 ' I have been laboring to make myself useless,' was the saying 
 of an excellent writer on education. A stupid commentator 
 concluded that this must be a mistake, and, in a note, added, 
 . for useless read useful. 
 
 M.E. 
 
 January. 1821. 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 PETTY SCANDAL. 
 
 * 
 
 ( T HAVE been dreaming of Anne Town- 
 -L send,' said Rosamond, one morning as 
 she wakened. ' My dear Laura, you did not 
 hear all the things she was telling us last 
 night. She certainly is the most entertaining 
 person in the world.' 
 
 ' In the world ! ' repeated Laura, with some- 
 what of an incredulous smile, which provok- 
 ed Rosamond to start up in her bed. 
 
 ' Yes, indeed, Laura ! ' cried she, ' without 
 any exaggeration, Anne Townsend is the 
 most entertaining person that I ever knew in 
 the world ; and you would have acknowledg- 
 ed it if you had heard her last night ; but you 
 never would see my nods, and becks, and 
 signs to you to come to us ; you seemed as it 
 you would not stir from your place among 
 the wise ones, and there you were all the 
 evening looking at those prints, which you 
 have seen fifty times. How I pitied you ! ' 
 
 1 Thank you,' said Laura ; ' but I was not 
 at all to be pitied ; I was very much enter- 
 tained, listening to an account which a gentle- 
 man, who has lately returned from Italy, was 
 
6 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 giving of his visit to Pompeii, that town which 
 was buried, you know, under a shower of 
 ashes, and which remains as perfect — ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' interrupted Rosamond, ' I read 
 an account of it long ago ; and I remember it 
 put me in mind of the old desert town in the 
 Arabian Tales, where every body was dead, 
 and all turned to stone ! and all silence ! very 
 shocking, and very entertaining, the first time 
 one hears of it; but I've heard it so often, I 
 like something new.' 
 
 ' And I heard something that was quite new 
 to me about Pompeii,' said Laura. 
 
 ' Very likely ; and you can tell me that an- 
 other time,' interrupted Rosamond; 'but I 
 must go on now about Anne Townsend ! and, 
 in the first place, I may observe that she nev- 
 er tells of all the grand, musty things one can 
 find in books; but of those little things, of 
 living people, that are so excessively divert- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' What kind of little things 1 ' said Laura. 
 
 ' I cannot describe them,' said Rosamond ; 
 f but all sorts of anecdotes and stories of all 
 sorts of people, for Anne Townsend has seen 
 a vast deal of the world.' 
 
 ' Anne Townsend ! What, at thirteen ? ' 
 said Laura. 
 
 1 Fourteen at least, if not fifteen,' said Ro- 
 samond ; l and she has been going about lately 
 every where with her mother ; she counted to 
 me twelve houses in the country where they 
 had been paying visits this summer ; and she 
 
ROSAMOND. 7 
 
 did make me laugh so, by describing the odd 
 ways of many of these people ! ' 
 
 1 Of these people who had been so kind to 
 her,' said Laura. 
 
 ' That is so like you, Laura,' cried Rosa- 
 mond ; ' I knew you would say that 2 And I 
 own I did not think it was quite right of Anne 
 Townsend to repeat some things ; but I am 
 sure she did not mean to be ill-natured. It 
 was all to divert me, and only for me, you 
 know.' 
 
 1 But you have not yet told me any of those 
 entertaining things,' said Laura. 
 
 ' Because, though they were excessively en- 
 tertaining at the time when I heard them,' 
 said Rosamond, ' I cannot repeat them in the 
 way Anne Townsend told them.' 
 
 ' Pray tell me some of them ; I shall be 
 content with your way of telling them,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 1 But almost ail the anecdotes were about 
 people you do not know, and I forget the 
 names, and it is all confusion in my head. 
 Stay, I remember some curio as things about 
 the pretty Misses Belmont. My dear ! you 
 cannot conceive how excessively poor, and 
 excessively shabby they are. Anne Town- 
 send says that they have only one riding 
 habit among the three, that it is the reason 
 that they never ride more than one at a time; 
 and they never subscribe to raffles, or charity 
 sermons, or charity balls, or any of those sort 
 of things ; and I forget how much, I mean 
 
8 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 I forget how little pocket money they have. 
 That is their mother's fault indeed ■ but, as 
 Anne Townsend says, avarice runs in the 
 blood.' 
 
 Laura was going to interpose something in 
 favor of the Misses Belmont, but Rosamond 
 ran on to another anecdote, and another, and 
 another, and another, and, at every close, re- 
 peated, ' Anne Townsend is so entertaining ! 
 But, my dear Laura,' continued she, ' what 
 name do you think Anne Townsend has 
 found for old Mrs. Cole? Red-hot Coal! 
 You must not repeat this.' 
 
 ■ No,' said Laura, ' I should be sorry to 
 repeat it ; because, though Mrs. Cole is per- 
 haps a little passionate, mother says that she 
 is a very good-natured woman, and very kind 
 to the poor in our neighborhood, in the coun- 
 try. Do not you recollect hearing of that 
 little orphan girl, to whom she is so good?' 
 
 i That is all a mistake,' said Rosamond, 
 giving a very significant, mysterious nod. 
 
 ' It cannot be all a mistake,' replied Laura, 
 ' because I saw, and know some of her kind- 
 ness to that little Bessy Bell.' 
 
 1 No matter, my dear Laura, what you 
 saw,' said Rosamond, ' for I have heard just 
 the contrary from the best authority.' 
 
 'But,' said Laura, 'I heard from Bessy 
 Bell herself that Mrs. Cole was as kind as 
 possible to her ; and I loved the child for the 
 affection and gratitude with which she spoke 
 of her dear good old lady.' 
 
KOSAMOND. 9 
 
 I That is all quite changed now,' persisted 
 Rosamond, ' for Bessy Bell hates her now. 
 Bessy Bell was the very person who said so, 
 and who told this to Anne Townsend.' 
 
 I I am sorry for it,' said Laura gravely. 
 
 1 You would be sorry for her,' said Rosa- 
 mond, ' if you knew but all. Mrs. Cole is a 
 terribly passionate, horribly cruel woman.' 
 
 ' My dear Rosamond, do not believe it,' 
 said Laura ; ' and do not repeat such things, 
 when you are not sure that they are true.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure that what I have heard is 
 true,' said Rosamond, ' I will tell you the 
 whole story, and then, I will answer for it, 
 you will acknowledge that Mrs. Cole is, and 
 ought to be called, a horribly passionate, cruel 
 woman. One day, just in the dusk of the 
 evening — ' 
 
 Rosamond stopped short in her story, for 
 her mother came into the room and told her 
 that breakfast was ready. As they were go- 
 ing into the breakfast room, Rosamond whis- 
 pered to Laura, ' You must not ask me to go 
 on with that story till we are by ourselves.' 
 
 Laura looked grave ; she said nothing how- 
 ever at that time, but, as soon as breakfast 
 was over, she asked Rosamond to come to 
 their own room, where they would be by 
 themselves. 
 
 1 Ho, ho ! ' said Rosamond, as soon as they 
 were in their room, ' I see that I have excited 
 your curiosity at last, Miss Laura. I know 
 the reason you are in such a hurry to have 
 
10 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 me alone with you again — to hear my story 
 of Red-hot Coal.' 
 
 ' I confess I am curious to hear it, and anx- 
 ious too,' said Laura. 
 
 ' Anxious and curious — to be sure you 
 are ! I don't doubt it in the least,' cried Ro- 
 samond ; ' and I am delighted to find that I 
 have made the sage Laura so curious and so 
 anxious.' 
 
 ' But you don't understand me. The rea- 
 son why I am anxious is — ' 
 
 ' I suppose,' interrupted Rosamond, ' that 
 you are anxious only for poor, dear Mrs. 
 Cole's sake, and that you have no curiosity 
 for your own part, at least, so you would 
 make me believe. But, as Anne Townsend 
 says, I understand human nature a little too 
 well to be taken in so easily. Ah, Laura, 
 you may sigh, and look as demure, or as im- 
 patient as you please. I have you in my 
 power. O, the joy of having a good story 
 and a good secret to tell ! ' continued Rosa- 
 mond. ' But I assure you that you should 
 not hear it this half hour, but that I am afraid 
 my dancing master will come before I have 
 time to tell it to you, if I don't tell it directly. 
 But, Laura, if you do not quite laugh, and 
 almost cry, I will never tell you any thing 
 again.' 
 
 i That is a threat that does not frighten me 
 much,' said Laura, smiling. 
 
 1 Because you think I can't help telling 
 every thing ; that is very provoking ! but the 
 
BOSAMOND. 
 
 11 
 
 dancing master will be here, so tnis once I 
 will tell you : — 
 
 ' One winter's day, just in the dusk of the 
 evening, when people sit round the fire, be- 
 fore the candles come, old Mrs. Cole was sit- 
 ting by the fire in her arm-chair, making that 
 poor little girl read to her, that Bessy Bell ; 
 and she went on and on, reading, while old 
 Mrs. Cole, never perceiving that there was 
 not light enough, cried, Go on, go on, while 
 she was all the time going to sleep ; till, at 
 last, little Bessy heard a loud snoring, and, 
 looking up, she saw Mrs. Cole fast asleep, 
 with her head back and her mouth open; 
 
12 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and, just then, the servant coming in with the 
 candles, and Mrs. Cole stirring a little, cap, 
 wig, and all fell off, over the back of the chair ; 
 and she did look so very droll that the child 
 could not help bursting out laughing,' said 
 Rosamond, who was here obliged to pause in 
 her story, she was so much diverted at the 
 recollection of Anne Townsend's description 
 of her. ' Well, my dear, Mrs. Cole wakened 
 while Bessy Bell was laughing, and she was 
 extremely angry ; and, all the time she was 
 scolding, she looked so excessively ugly, and 
 so odd without cap or wig, so very odd, that, 
 though Bessy Bell did all she could to stop it, 
 she could not help laughing again. So, Hot 
 Coal, Red-hot Coal, came up to her, saying, 
 I'll teach you to laugh at me ! and gave her 
 such a box on the ear, that flashes of light 
 came from her eyes ; and, before she knew 
 where she was, Mrs. Cole gave her another 
 blow, which knocked her down, and she fell 
 — O ! now comes the shocking part — she fell 
 on the spikes of the fender ! and one of the 
 spikes ran into her arm, and she cried out ; 
 and that horrible woman, when she saw this, 
 left her there, I cannot tell you how long, 
 saying, That will teach you to laugh again 
 at me, you ungrateful creature ! O, my dear, 
 think of leaving her' writhing on spikes ! ' 
 
 1 1 do not believe that part of the story in 
 the least,' said Laura. 
 
 ' But I give you my word it is true ! ' said 
 Rosamond ; ' but stay, you have not heard 
 
ROSAMOND. 13 
 
 all. When at last she took the child up, who 
 was all streaming with blood and just faint- 
 ing, what do you think she did ] She took her 
 by the very arm that the spike had run into, 
 and shook her so that she broke the arm ? ' 
 
 ' Broke it ! ' cried Laura, with a look of 
 horror ; ' but I am sure it is not true. I can- 
 not believe it.' 
 
 ' But you must believe it ; I assure you it 
 is certain true,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' How can you be certain of that,' said 
 Laura, ' you did not see it ? ' 
 
 ' No, but I heard it,' said Rosamond, ' from 
 one who heard it from the very girl herself, 
 who, you know, you say is a girl that speaks 
 truth.' 
 
 c That is true ; but you heard this account 
 from Miss To wnsend, did not you ? ' 
 
 1 1 did ; but surely you do not suspect that 
 Anne Townsend would tell a falsehood, and 
 such a falsehood, such a horrible lie ! You 
 do not think that she invented the whole. O, 
 my dear Laura, could you, who are so good, 
 think so ill of any human creature ! I could 
 not have conceived it.' 
 
 ' Stay, Rosamond, you do not understand 
 me ; I do not suspect Miss Townsend of hav- 
 ing invented the whole of this story, or think 
 her capable of telling such a horrible false- 
 hood.' 
 
 * No, nor a falsehood of any kind,' cried 
 Rosamond, ' surely you do not think she 
 would.' 
 
14 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 Not intentionally,' said Laura ; l but, my 
 dear Rosamond, I have heard her, for the 
 sake of making out a good story, and to divert 
 or to surprise people, in short to produce a 
 great effect, exaggerate sometimes, so that I 
 cannot think her so exact about the truth as 
 she ought to be.' 
 
 Rosamond became serious and thoughtful ; 
 and, after some minutes' silence, said, ' I ac- 
 knowledge that sometimes Anne Townsend 
 does exaggerate a little ; but that is only in 
 droll stories, or in describing, and that, she 
 says, is allowable; but, in earnest, I am sure 
 she would be careful, and you will see that 
 all she has told me will prove to be true, quite 
 true.' 
 
 ' But is it not more likely, my dear Rosa- 
 mond, that she should have exaggerated, or 
 misunderstood, than that any body should 
 have been so cruel as she represents Mrs. Cole 
 to have been, a woman who was never known 
 or suspected to be cruel before 7 ' 
 
 ' But, Laura, you are prepossessed in favor 
 of Mrs. Cole,' said Rosamond, ' and preju- 
 diced against poor Anne Townsend; but I 
 shall see her again to-morrow, when we go 
 to Mrs. Townsend' s to practise the quadrille, 
 and then I will ask her to tell me over again 
 every particular, and you shall be convinced.' 
 
 Here Rosamond was interrupted by a ser- 
 vant who came to tell her that her dancing 
 master was waiting ; Laura said she was 
 sorry that they had been called so soon, for 
 
ROSAMOND. 15 
 
 that she had not had time to say what she 
 was most anxious to say to Rosamond. 
 
 1 What can you mean ? ' cried Rosamond, 
 stopping short, ' I thought you were anxious 
 only about my story.' 
 
 ' I am much more anxious about you, my 
 dear Rosamond,' said Laura. ' Do not be 
 angry with me, if I say that, though Miss 
 Townsend is very entertaining, I should be 
 sorry you were like her; and I should be sorry, 
 my dear Rosamond, that you were to imitate 
 her; I don't think she is a good friend for 
 you.' 
 
 1 Why so?' asked Rosamond, in a tone of 
 much disappointment and dissatisfaction. 
 
 1 Because I don't like her habit of laughing 
 at every body. Even those who have been 
 most kind to her she ridicules, you see, the 
 moment she is out of their company. Then 
 she repeats every thing she sees and hears in 
 every family she goes into, and almost all the 
 anecdotes she tells are ill-natured ; what 
 mother calls petty scandal. Besides, I do not 
 like her desiring you not to mention to moth- 
 er what she told you.' 
 
 ' Now that is very unjust indeed,' said Ro- 
 samond ; ' you blame her both for not telling 
 and for telling ; you say you don't like her 
 habit of repeating every thing she hears, and 
 you do not like her desiring me not to repeat 
 what she said to mother.' 
 
 ' But is not there a great deal of difference,' 
 said Laura, c between telling little ill-natured 
 
16 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 stories, and telling what we hear and what 
 we think to our best friends — to mother, for 
 instance? But I have not time to explain 
 what I mean entirely,' said Laura, ' we must 
 go down to the dancing master.' Rosamond 
 acknowledged that there was some truth in 
 Laura's general opinion of Miss Townsend's 
 love of scandal; but she was eager to prove 
 that, in the present instance, what she had 
 said was perfectly true. 
 
 ' But, my dear Rosamond,' said Laura, 
 { how happens it that you, who are in general 
 so good-natured, should be anxious to prove 
 that this horrible story of Mrs. Cole is quite 
 true 1 Is it merely because you have heard 
 it, or because you have told it 7 ' 
 
 Whether Rosamond heard this last question 
 or not, never appeared; she made no answer 
 to it, but observed that she could keep poor 
 M. Deschamps waiting no longer. 
 
 The next day Laura and Rosamond went 
 to Mrs. Townsend's, as it was their custom 
 at this time to do, twice a week, to practise 
 quadrilles with the Misses Townsend, and 
 with some other young people, who met by 
 turns at each other's houses. Rosamond, im- 
 patient to see Miss Anne Townsend, nattered 
 herself that she should have an opportunity, 
 if they went early, to talk to her in private 
 before the rest of their companions should 
 come. But, to her disappointment, on their 
 arrival, she heard from Mrs. Townsend that 
 
ROSAMOND. 17 
 
 her daughter Anne had caught such a cold 
 that she was not allowed this night to join 
 the dancing party', ^and was confined to her 
 bed. 
 
 1 But you will not lose your quadrille, Miss 
 Rosamond,' said Mrs. Townsend, observing 
 Rosamond's look of disappointment and des- 
 pair. ' I have invited one of the Misses Bel- 
 mont here, to take Anne's place to-night. To 
 be sure Miss Belmont does not dance quite so 
 well as our own set, and may perhaps put 
 you out, but we can manage it for once ; and 
 I must do her the justice to say that she is 
 very obliging, which makes up for any other 
 little deficiencies. Here she is ; I believe you 
 have never been introduced to each other,' 
 continued Mrs. Townsend, taking Rosamond's 
 hand as she led her to Miss Belmont. 
 
 As the dancing did not immediately begin, 
 Rosamond and Miss Belmont were left to- 
 gether. With the recollection of all she had 
 heard, and all she had said of thts young 
 lady's shabbiness full in her mind, Rosamond 
 felt somewhat embarrassed. Whatever she 
 tried to talk of, all the stories she had heard, 
 crossed and puzzled her thoughts, so that she 
 never could finish any one distinct sentence. 
 Miss Belmont meantime, quite at her ease, in 
 the most obliging manner tried to find sub- 
 jects of conversation, not disdaining to talk to 
 Rosamond, though she was some years young 
 er than herself. Of dancing, music, drawing 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
18 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 she spoke, but in vain ; Rosamond did not 
 know what she said, and the conversation 
 dropped. At length some one came up and 
 said to Miss Belmont — 
 
 ' I hope you had a pleasant ride this morn- 
 ing. Do you ride to-morrow ? ' 
 
 Miss Belmont answered that she did not, 
 that it was her sister's turn to ride the next 
 day, and that they never rode on the same 
 days. 
 
 ' Ah, ha ! I know the reason of that,' thought 
 Rosamond. ' Anne Townsend is in the right 
 about this.' 
 
 The friend, who was speaking to Miss Bel- 
 mont and who was her near relation, said. c I 
 know you have but one horse that you like to 
 ride ; but I can lend you my little Janette to- 
 morrow, and all next week, so, if you please, 
 you and your sister can ride together.' 
 
 Miss Belmont thanked her friend, but de- 
 clined her kind offer, saying, in a whisper, — 
 1 There is another difficulty ; we have only 
 one habit as well as one horse amongst us ; ' 
 and, with a slight blush, ingenuous counte- 
 nance, and sweet voice, she added, ' you know 
 we are poor, and, in mother's circumstances, 
 we should be at as little expense to her as 
 possible, in our dress or our pleasures.' 
 
 Miss Belmont's partner then taking her out 
 to dance, her relation, turning to another 
 friend, said, ' Though they are my own rela- 
 tions, I hope I may be allowed to say that the 
 Misses Belmont are most amiable girls.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 19 
 
 ' Yes,' replied the friend, ' so generous too ; 
 come with me, and I will tell you such an 
 instance ! ' 
 
 1 What a different person she is from what 
 she was represented to me,' thought Rosa- 
 mond. ' Anne Townsend did not exaggerate 
 the circumstances, but she misrepresented the 
 motives, that is, she did not understand, or 
 she did not know them ; and I will tell her 
 how much she was mistaken.' 
 
 Dancing interrupted Rosamond's moral re- 
 flections, and dancing employed her till late 
 in the evening, when, as she was drinking 
 some lemonade, Mrs. Townsend came to her 
 and said — ' If you are quite cool now, Miss 
 
20 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Rosamond, I can take you up to Anne for a 
 few minutes, as you are so anxious to see her. 
 She is awake now, and will be delighted to 
 see you.' 
 
 Rosamond looked back for Laura, as Mrs. 
 Townsend took her out of the room ; but 
 Laura was dancing, and Mrs. Townsend 
 could not wait. 
 
 The history of what passed in this inter- 
 view Rosamond gave to her sister at night, 
 when they were going to bed, in the following 
 manner : — 
 
 ' Well, my dear Laura, it is all over ; and 
 how do you think it has ended ? We have 
 come to an explanation, and I am convinced 
 you were quite right, and that Anne Town- 
 send is too fond of scandal ; and I told her so ; 
 and we have had such a quarrel ! When I 
 went to her room, we began by talking about 
 her cold, and all that ; then we went on to the 
 dancing, and the quadrille, and she asked me 
 how Miss Belmont had got through it, and 
 regretted that her mother had asked her ; then 
 I took Miss Belmont's part, and said that I 
 was sure, if Miss Townsend knew her. she 
 would like her. I said I thought she had 
 been quite misrepresented by whoever told 
 the ill-natured stories. I repeated what I had 
 heard her say, and added what her friend 
 and relation had said of her being generous ; 
 but Miss Townsend still insisted upon it she 
 was right, instead of fairly acknowledging 
 that she had been wrong, or that she was 
 
 
ROSAMOND. 21 
 
 convinced she had been misinformed. She 
 only laughed at my credulity, as she called 
 it, and said that when I had seen more of the 
 world I should know better — worse she meant. 
 That it was very natural that Miss Belmont's 
 own friend and relation should say the best 
 she could for her, but this was no proof she 
 deserved it ; that she is shabby and that all 
 the Belmonts are shabby ; and that she could 
 tell me fifty other stories of them worse than 
 the habit, and more diverting. And, as Miss 
 Townsend said this, that flattering, mincing 
 maid of hers, who was fidgetting about the 
 bed with jelly, or something which nobody 
 wanted, smiled and said — To be sure, that 
 she knew enough of the shabbiness of the 
 Belmonts, of which she could tell a hundred 
 instances, if she pleased. But I said I had no 
 curiosity to hear any such stories. I perceiv- 
 ed from this where Anne Townsend' s anec- 
 dotes came from, and I felt ashamed for her ; 
 and I believe I looked as if I wished the maid 
 away ; but she did not go till Anne, who per- 
 haps was a little ashamed of herself, told her 
 she need not stay. As soon as she was gone 
 I lost no time, for I was determined to know 
 the truth, and to see the very bottom of Anne 
 Townsend' s mind.' 
 
 ' Ah, my dear Rosamond,' said Laura, 
 c you think it as easy to see to the bottom of 
 every body's mind as it is to see to the bot- 
 tom of your own open heart.' 
 
 1 On I went into the very middle of the Hot 
 
22 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Coal business,' continued Rosamond ; { and I 
 told her that I had repeated the story to you, 
 and that you doubted the truth of it, and 
 thought she had been misinformed. She be- 
 gan to look angry directly, and reproached 
 me with always repeating every thing I hear. 
 Only think of her charging me with the very 
 thing she does herself ! She wondered why 
 you doubted the story ; she asserted that she 
 knew it was perfectly true, and that she had 
 it from the very best authority. Yes, said I, 
 I assured Laura that you heard it from Bessy 
 Bell herself. But Anne Townsend interrupt- 
 ed me, and explained to me that the story 
 was not actually told to her by Bessy Bell, 
 but only that it came from herself; that is, 
 the person who told it to Anne Townsend 
 heard it from somebody who heard it from 
 Bessy Bell.' 
 
 ' O ! that makes a great difference,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Rosamond, ' quite another 
 thing ! Then came out another change in 
 the business ; I thought that the affair had 
 but just happened, and that the child was 
 lying wounded and half dead at this moment ! 
 but this was all a mistake in my foolish im- 
 agination, as Anne Townsend says, for at 
 this moment the girl is as well as I am. All 
 this happened a year ago — Therefore, said 
 she, it is not worth while to say any thing 
 more about it ; and she added that, unless I 
 wanted to make mischief, I must never speak 
 
ROSAMOND. 23 
 
 of it again, and must never let any body know 
 that I had heard it. She bid me recollect 
 that, when she told me this, I had promised 
 her I would not tell a word of it to mother. 
 But this I could not recollect, because it was 
 not so. When I insisted upon this fact, she 
 was very much vexed, and then asked what 
 reason I could have for wanting to tell it to 
 mother, except to make mischief. I said that 
 I always tell mother every thing, and that 
 you, who are my best friend, advised me not 
 to hear any secrets which I must not tell my 
 mother. She said that this was all mighty 
 fine, but that she was sure I had some other 
 reason for wishing to tell it to mother. I 
 answered that I had another reason — that I 
 desired to find out the exact truth of the Cole 
 story, that I might prove to you that she had 
 not exaggerated in telling it. She thanked me 
 proudly, and, after a little silence, she said — 
 Now pray tell me exactly all you told your 
 sister Laura. I repeated it as exactly as I 
 could. But, when I came to Bessy Bell's being 
 knocked down by old Mrs. Cole, and falling 
 on the spikes of the fender, and the stream 
 of blood, Anne Townsend cried — No such 
 thing ! no such thing ! and protested that she 
 had never said a word of a stream of blood. 
 But, worse and worse, when I came to Mrs. 
 Cole's shaking Bessy Bell's arm till she broke 
 it, Anne Townsend stopped me again, and 
 put in an almost, that entirely altered the 
 case. But indeed, my dear Laura, I remem- 
 
24 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ber, when she first told me the story, exclaim- 
 ing with horror — What ! broke her arm ! and 
 Miss Townsend could have set me right then. 
 When I reminded her of this, she would not 
 listen to me. She knew she was wrong, and 
 would not acknowledge it, and she wanted to 
 throw all the blame upon me. At last she 
 was quite out of humor, and said I had mis- 
 represented and exaggerated the whole story. 
 Then I confess I grew very angry, and I can- 
 not exactly remember what I said, but I be- 
 lieve that the sense of it was, that I should be 
 very sorry to have any person for my friend 
 who was not exact about truth, and that I 
 was very glad that I had found out her real 
 character before I had grown too fond of her. 
 She laughed — which provoked me more than 
 all the rest ; and only think of her punning at 
 such a time ! She said she believed I was 
 indeed fitter to be a friend of old Hot Coal ; 
 that she fancied I was of the family of the 
 Hot Coals, nearly related — Kindle Coal, cer- 
 tainly. I wished her a good-night, and left 
 her ; and I never desire to see her again. She 
 may be as entertaining and witty as she 
 pleases, I shall never love her again. Who 
 would wish to have such a friend as Anne 
 Townsend? You were very right, Laura, 
 and I was very foolish.' 
 
 The next morning, when Rosamond waken- 
 ed, she began the day with this sage reflec- 
 tion, — ' How different the same person and 
 
ROSAMOND. 25 
 
 the same things appear to me now, from what 
 they did even at this time yesterday ! Anne 
 Townsend for instance, and Anne Town- 
 send' s wit ! wit is very entertaining ; but, my 
 dear Laura, I think I like people better, for 
 friends, who have no wit.' 
 
 i Why so, my dear Rosamond,' said Laura, 
 smiling ; ' would you keep all the wit for 
 yourself?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosamond, ' I would rather not 
 have wit myself; it may tempt people to be 
 ill-natured, and to ridicule every thing and 
 every body.' 
 
 ' But, by the same rule,' said Laura, ' you 
 would rather not have any fire I suppose, be- 
 cause fire sometimes burns people, if they are 
 not careful about it.' 
 
 Rosamond laughed, and soon gave up her 
 rash resolution against wit, when Laura re- 
 minded her of the character of Lady Little- 
 ton — 
 
 A wit that, temperately bright, 
 
 With inoffensive light 
 
 All pleasing shone, nor ever past 
 
 The decent bounds that wisdom's sober hand, 
 
 And sweet benevolence's mild command, 
 
 And bashful modesty, before it cast. 
 
 ' I love those lines,' cried Rosamond; 'that 
 is the kind of wit I should like to have ! But 
 I must make haste and dress myself, that I 
 may go to mother and tell her the whole 
 affair.' 
 
 And, when she had related all that had'. 
 
 VOL. II. 3 
 
26 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 passed, she was very anxious to know what 
 her mother thought of the whole. Her moth- 
 er told her that she thought she had been too 
 sudden in her liking for Miss Anne Town- 
 send at first, and perhaps a little too angry at 
 last ; yet she was, upon the whole, well satis- 
 fied with her conduct, and glad that she felt 
 such an aversion to any appearance of pre- 
 varication and falsehood. It was not yet 
 possible to decide whether or not Miss Town- 
 send had told an absolute falsehood ; but it 
 was plain that, in her desire to surprise, or to 
 entertain, she had been careless about truth, 
 and had considerably exaggerated and mis- 
 represented facts. 
 
 1 That she certainly did,' cried Rosamond. 
 1 But now, mother, that we may get quite to 
 the bottom of the truth, will you be so kind 
 as to call this morning to inquire how poor 
 old Mrs. Cole does 1 If she lets you in, as I 
 dare say she will, you can find out for me, 
 without making any mischief, the whole truth 
 exactly about Bessy Bell, and the fender, and 
 the blood ; for I am excessively curious to 
 know all the particulars exactly.' 
 
 1 But I do not see that any good purpose 
 can be answered by gratifying this curiosity 
 of yours, my dear,' said her mother ; ' there- 
 fore let me advise you to repress it. You are 
 assured that the child is quite well ; and, as 
 to the rest, you cannot do her any good, and 
 you might do her injury by interference. 
 Prom all that has passed you may observe 
 
ROSAMOND. 27 
 
 the danger of exaggeration, and I advise you 
 to take warning by this. Do not repeat what 
 Miss Townsend told you to any of your 
 young companions. 1 
 
 1 But, mother,' said Rosamond, ' I wish you 
 would explain to me the right and the wrong 
 about repeating; I am very much puzzled 
 about it. Let me consider — it is right always 
 to tell you and Laura every thing I hear; 
 and it is wrong, sometimes, to tell the same 
 things to my young companions ; and I do 
 not know how to settle these contradictions; 
 and you love those who have an open tem- 
 per, and you esteem those who are sincere ; 
 and yet some things are never to be repeated ; 
 you like people that are entertaining, and yet 
 people cannot be entertaining if they never 
 tell any thing they hear, can they \ I am 
 sure that many of those you like, and whom 
 you think the most sensible, agreeable people, 
 often, in conversation, relate anecdotes that 
 amuse you, and that show the characters of 
 different persons ; and how am I to distinguish 
 the difference between this and what you call 
 petty scandal?' 
 
 ' My dear, you have put so many difficult 
 questions,' said her mother,- smiling, ' I shall 
 find it impossible, I am afraid, to answer them 
 all at once. But, to begin with your puzzle 
 about secrecy and sincerity, you may be per- 
 fectly sincere and open about every thing that 
 concerns yourself, and, at the same time, you 
 may forbear to tell what does not concern you 3 
 
 
28 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and what might injure others. Never repeat 
 any thing to the disadvantage of any person, 
 unless you are sure it is true ; never tell any 
 thing ill-natured of any one, even if it be true, 
 unless it is to be of use, and to do some good 
 greater than the pain you inflict; in short, 
 never repeat what is ill-natured, merely for 
 the pleasure of telling what may divert oth- 
 ers, or show you own cleverness, as it is call- 
 ed.' 
 
 ' The last is a very good rule, mother, ' said 
 Rosamond, blushing. 
 
 ' And to this rule there can be no exception,' 
 continued her mother. ' To my other general 
 rules there may be some exceptions. Circum- 
 stances may possibly occur, in which, for the 
 sake of justice and truth, it is our duty to re- 
 peat or reveal what may be much to the dis- 
 advantage of others.' 
 
 ' Ah ! there's the thing, mother; how am I 
 to distinguish V 
 
 1 At your age, and with your inexperience, 
 you cannot yet judge in these difficult circum- 
 stances, my dear,' answered her mother ; 
 1 therefore I advise you to consult those who 
 have more experience ; and it is safest to ap- 
 ply, in all difficulties, to those who are most 
 interested for your happiness.' 
 
 ' That is to you, mother ; yes, certainly, 
 and to Laura. I will always tell you when 
 I am in doubt about right and wrong.' 
 
 1 If you do, my dear, I will always to the 
 best of my power give you my advice. I 
 
ROSAMOND. 29 
 
 acknowledge that petty scandal may be en- 
 tertaining, and — ' 
 
 1 O yes, mother ! Anne Townsend is very 
 entertaining.' 
 
 ' But you perceived some of the mischief 
 she might do. And when you know more of 
 the world, you will find that a scandalous 
 story is scarcely ever repeated without inac- 
 curacy or exaggeration ; even by those who 
 do not intend to alter or exaggerate in the 
 least, some little difference is made in the 
 warmth of description, the eagerness to inter- 
 est, and the desire to produce effect.' 
 
 ' Very true ; I recollect that even I said 
 streaming* with blood, when I was telling 
 Laura about Bessy Bell ; and, if I had been 
 quite exact, I should have only said bleeding, 
 or covered with blood ; for, to do Anne Town- 
 send justice, that was> as she reminded me, 
 all she said. But go on, mother, for I am 
 really anxious to know how to do right for 
 the future.' 
 
 ' I am sure you are,' said her mother, kiss- 
 ing her affectionately ; ' and, with such good 
 dispositions and good principles, you cannot 
 go much wrong. You have as yet, however, 
 so little knowledge of the world, that it is not 
 possible for me to explain to you all the mis- 
 chief that may be done by spreading trifling 
 reports. Some instances may give you an 
 idea of the sort of things you should avoid 
 repeating. Your own feelings tell you how 
 painful it would be to yourself to hear repeat- 
 
30 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ed to you what any one you loved had said 
 of you, at some time when they were dis- 
 pleased with you, or when they had spoken 
 hastily of you or your faults.' 
 
 J Yes, mother, I remember Anne Townsend 
 once told me something that was said by 
 somebody — I will not tell you who — it gave 
 me a great deal of pain, and made me like 
 that person less — and much less than if she 
 had found fault with me to my face.' 
 
 ' Yes, such repetitions are injurious,' said 
 her mother. ' You know, Rosamond, how 
 sorry you would feel, if every hasty word 
 you say was repeated.' 
 
 ■ Certainly, mother; people forget so soon 
 what they say when they are angry ; and 
 they never mean half so much as they say.' 
 
 ' And,' continued her mother, - in repeating 
 such things, the tone and manner in which 
 they were said must often be altered by the 
 repeater, and then they appear a great deal 
 worse than they really were. What might 
 be said half in jest is turned into earnest, and 
 perhaps these trifling, vexatious things are 
 repeated at a time when those to whom they 
 are told are not in good-humor, or when they 
 have other causes of complaint, so that alto- 
 gether they produce suspicions and quarrels 
 among acquaintances and friends.' 
 
 \ I recollect, mother, your being displeased 
 once, when somebody repeated to you some 
 dispute which they had overheard, no, heard 
 — let me take care to be exact — between a 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 m 
 
 husband and wife. You stopped them by- 
 turning the conversation to something else ; 
 and you said afterwards, to Laura, that such 
 things should never be repeated. Laura,' 
 continued Rosamond, as she turned to look 
 for her, ' what are you searching for in that 
 book, instead of listening to what we are say- 
 ing'?' 
 
 ' I have heard all you were saying,' said 
 Laura ; ' and I am looking for a story that I 
 think you will like to read ; it is an account 
 of a girl who ruined a whole family by re- 
 peating something about family affairs, which 
 she did not understand.' 
 
 ' O, give it me ! ' cried Rosamond ; J but is 
 it true 'I ' 
 
 ' I should think it is true ; I am sure it 
 might be true,' answered Laura. 
 
 ■ What is the name of the book 1 ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Palmerstone's Letters to her Daugh- 
 ter.' 
 
 ' I will read the story before I stir from this 
 place,' said Rosamond. 
 
 Accordingly she read the story. It inter- 
 ested her very much, so much that she could 
 hardly think of any thing else for some hours. 
 And she said to Laura, — ' What a striking 
 lesson ! I am sure it has made an impression 
 upon me that I never, never can forget.' 
 
 But the impressions on Rosamond's mind, 
 though easily made, and seemingly strong 
 and deep, were like the writing on the sand, 
 often shaken and quickly obliterated. 
 
$£ EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Not more than a fortnight afterwards, when 
 she was at Mrs. Belmont's, where it had been 
 arranged that she was to meet her young 
 companions to practise quadrilles, it happened 
 that one of the Misses Belmont asked her 
 what was the cause of her not liking Anne 
 Townsend so well as she did formerly ) She 
 at first answered prudently — ' I cannot tell 
 you any thing about it ; O. don't ask me !' 
 
 But some one present declared that she 
 knew the whole already, and that she had 
 had it all from Miss Townsend. Rosamond 
 was provoked at perceiving that the whole 
 had been told to her disadvantage ; and that 
 it was insinuated that the fear that something 
 discreditable to herself should come out, was 
 the cause of her present reserve. Forgetting 
 her mother's cautions, and her own resolu- 
 tions, Rosamond then began and told all that 
 had passed, and all that she had heard from 
 Miss Townsend. It was not till she was in 
 the middle of her story that she recollected 
 herself, and, stopping short, exlcaimed — ' But 
 I cannot, I must not tell you any more about 
 Mrs. Cole and Bessy Bell, for mother desired 
 that I would not repeat it.' 
 
 1 O, my dear Rosamond,' cried one of her 
 companions, ' you have gone so far, you must 
 go on, for poor Mrs. Cole's sake, or we shall 
 think it is something horrible, much worse 
 probably than it really is.' 
 
 1 That's true,' said Rosamond ; ' but still I 
 ought not to repeat it.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 33 
 
 ' But we shall never tell it again ; it will be 
 as safe with us as with yourself; you may 
 depend upon it we shall never say any thing 
 about it,' said the young ladies, adding all the 
 arguments of this sort, with all the assevera- 
 tions and promises, usually made by the cu- 
 rious upon such occasions. Poor Rosamond, 
 overpowered by their persuasions, went 
 on, and, bit by bit, told the whole ; and, 
 whilst she was in the midst and warmth of 
 her narration, her eyes always fixed on the 
 young lady to whom she was speaking, she 
 did not perceive that one or two more of their 
 acquaintance came into the little music room, 
 where they were standing, and joined the 
 party of listeners. When at last Rosamond 
 wakened to the sight of the new faces among 
 her auditors, she stopped and started ; but one 
 of her companions whispered to her — Go on, 
 go on, she is my cousin Susan, I will answer 
 for her ; and the other is only Mary Law, she 
 will not understand what you are saying ; 
 you may say any thing before her, she is deaf, 
 and stupid besides, and too full of the quad- 
 rille to think of any thing else. Rosamond 
 thus re-assured went on to the end of her story. 
 When all was over, and when she went home 
 and found herself again with Laura and her 
 mother, she told them what had passed, not 
 without some shame; but still, she said, she 
 hoped that none of the company would repeat 
 what she had said. Her mother and Laura 
 hoped so too. They did not reproach Rosa- 
 
34 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 mond, but they were sorry she had been 
 tempted to break her wise resolution. 
 
 Some days passed. No more was said upon 
 the subject. Rosamond forgave herself, and 
 had almost forgotten the circumstance, when, 
 one morning it was brought to her recollec- 
 tion in a painful manner. 
 
 She happened to go with her mother and 
 sister to a glover's shop. The woman, who 
 kept this small shop, had been once a faithful 
 servant in her mother's family, and therefore 
 they were interested for her. Laura first re- 
 marked that the poor woman did not look as 
 well as usual. She answered that she was 
 well, but that she had been very much vexed 
 this day ; she begged pardon however, it was 
 not a matter of great consequence, and she 
 would not trouble them about it. 
 
 While she was speaking, Rosamond thought 
 she heard the sound of some one sobbing. The 
 sound came from a room within the shop. 
 The woman shut the door close, which had 
 been a little open ; and, in doing this, she by 
 accident pushed aside the green curtain that 
 hung before the glass panes in the upper part 
 of the door. 
 
 Rosamond looked into the room and saw a 
 child kneeling by a chair, with her head 
 down and her face hid in her hands, crying 
 as if her heart would break. Rosamond look- 
 ed at Laura, and, with much emotion, ex- 
 claimed — ' What can be the matter with her ; 
 poor little thing?' 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 35 
 
 c Ah, poor thing ! she may well cry as she 
 does,' said Mrs. White, the woman of the 
 shop ; ' she has lost a good friend, and the 
 best friend she had in the world ; and the 
 only one, I may say, that could and would 
 have served her through life ; but she is an 
 unfortunate little creature, an orphan ; Bessy 
 Bell, ladies, that you may remember to have 
 seen in the country with good old Mrs. Cole ; 
 but, Miss Rosamond ! my dear Miss Rosa- 
 mond is as pale as death ! ' 
 
 1 ! ' cried Rosamond, as soon as she could 
 speak, ' I am certain I am the cause of all the 
 mischief ; but go on, go on, tell me all ! ' 
 
00 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Mrs. White, much astonished, then related 
 all she knew of the matter ; that Mrs. Cole 
 had been so extremely displeased by some 
 report, that had been repeated to her, of Bessy 
 Bell's having complained of her cruelty, and 
 having told, with many circumstances that 
 were not true, something that happened in her 
 family above a year ago, that she had resolv- 
 ed to have nothing more to do with the child. 
 ' Indeed,' continued Mrs. White, ' consider- 
 ing how excessively generous and kind, and 
 like a mother Mrs. Cole has been to Bessy, 
 and the pains she has taken with her, and 
 the affection she had for her, I cannot wonder 
 she should be cut to the heart, and made as 
 angry as she is, by what must appear to her 
 such base ingratitude and treachery in this 
 child. I don't like to tell all the circumstances, 
 lest I should be guilty of spreading scandal- 
 ous, false reports, as others have been.' 
 
 But Rosamond told her that she knew all 
 the circumstances, she believed ; and, as well 
 as she could, in the extreme agitation of her 
 mind, repeated what she had heard from Anne 
 Townsend, and asked if this was the report 
 to which Mrs. White alluded. 
 
 ' Yes, ladies, the very same, as far as I can 
 make out ; it was written as news to the coun- 
 try, and so came round again to Mrs. Cole, 
 and never was a story more exaggerated. 
 Bessy Bell ! Bess ! come here, child, and tell 
 how it was ; or please to step in here, ladies. 
 
ROSAMOND. 37 
 
 for she is ashamed, poor thing, and she is in 
 such a condition.' 
 
 Bessy wiped the tears from her face, tried 
 to stop her sobs, and endeavored to speak. 
 
 She said she had done wrong, very wrong 
 indeed ! but not as wrong, or as wickedly, as 
 had been reported of her ; she had, a year 
 ago, when she was angry, told her friend the 
 apothecary's daughter, that Mrs. Cole had 
 been very passionate one evening, and had 
 given her such a box on the ear, as had near- 
 ly knocked her down ; and she had said that, 
 if she had fallen, she might have fallen upon 
 the spikes of the fender. But the letter assert- 
 ed that she had fallen down, and that the 
 spikes of the fender had run into her arm to 
 the bone ; and that, while she was all stream- 
 ing with blood, Mrs. Cole shook her till she 
 broke her arm. ' But O, ma'am, I never ut- 
 tered such falsehoods ! I was very wrong 
 ever to tell any thing about it ; for Mrs. Cole 
 was so very, very kind to me ; what I did let 
 out I told at the minute when I was in a 
 passion, and that was a year ago, and I had 
 forgotten it, and every thing I said ; and how 
 it came up, and how it came out again, I can- 
 not conceive.' 
 
 Rosamond's mother inquired whether Bessy 
 knew tne name of the lady who had written 
 the letter. She replied that she was not quite 
 certain, for that the letter was put into her 
 hands out for a minute, but that she believed 
 it was Law — Martha or Mary Law. 
 
38 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 It now appeared too plain that the whole 
 mischief had arisen from that young lady's 
 having written an exaggerated account ot 
 what she had imperfectly heard, and imper- 
 fectly understood, of the story Rosamond told 
 to her companions in the music room at Mrs. 
 Belmont's. She had not heard the explana- 
 tion and contradiction of the first part of Anne 
 Townsend's assertions, and had gone off with 
 the falsehoods instead of the truth ; then, for 
 want of something to say in her next letter, 
 slow, dull Miss Law had repeated this story. 
 Thus it often happens, that the stupid and 
 slow, as well as the quick and lively, become 
 spreaders of false reports. 
 
 Rosamond was miserable when she saw the 
 mischief she had occasioned ; she could not 
 cry, she could not speak, she stood pale and 
 motionless, while her mother and Laura 
 thought for her what could be done. They 
 proposed immediately that they should go to 
 Mrs. Cole, and that Rosamond should tell her 
 exactly what had passed; but Bessy Bell 
 said, their going to her house in town would 
 be of no use, for that she had left London this 
 morning early. And then Mrs. White in- 
 creased Rosamond 1 s sorrow by saying that 
 little Bessy Bell was to have gone with Mrs. 
 Cole to the country, to Devonshire, to me sea, 
 and that every thing had been arranged for 
 the journey — ' and clothes and books even, 
 ma'am, bought for her ; see there ! ' pointing 
 
ROSAMOND. 39 
 
 to a little trunk half packed up, ' but all is 
 over now.' 
 
 ' Bessy, why did not you tell Mrs. Cole,' 
 said Laura, ' what you have told us ; and 
 why did not you assure her that the falsehoods, 
 which have been reported, did not come from 
 you?' 
 
 j 'I did, ma'am ; but I could not deny that 
 there was some part of the story true. I could 
 not deny that I had talked foolishly, and that 
 I had told some part of what was repeated. 
 This vexed her exceedingly, as well it might; 
 and she did not perhaps believe me, or per- 
 haps she did not hear the rest of what I was 
 saying, to explain to her that I did not say 
 all the horrible things that were reported. O ! 
 she was very much vexed.' 
 
 ' Aye.' said Mrs. White, \ the only fault 
 Mrs. Cole has upon earth is the being a little 
 too touchy and hasty.' 
 
 '• Pray, pray, don't say any thing more 
 about that ! ' cried little Bessy, ' because Mrs. 
 Cole has been so very kind to me ; she has 
 taught me every thing good in the world that 
 I know, and she has given me almost every 
 thing I have, and she has been a mother to 
 me ; i was an orphan, and starving when she 
 first took me in. O ! ' said the child, kneeling 
 down again, and hiding her face on the chair, 
 ' I have been very, very ungrateful, and I 
 shall never forgive myself 
 
 1 Poor Rosamond ! ' said Laura. 
 
 Rosamond's mother forebore to reproach 
 
40 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her for her imprudence. It was plain that 
 the reproaches of her own heart, at this mo- 
 ment, were sufficiently acute; but what was 
 to be done to repair the evil ? Mrs. Cole was 
 to stay in Devonshire two months at least. It 
 was proposed that Rosamond should write to 
 her ; she did so, and gave as clear a statement 
 of the facts as she could, and as pathetic a 
 petition in favor of the orphan. 
 
 During the days that elapsed, before an 
 answer to this letter could be received, Rosa- 
 mond suffered bitterly ; nor did the answer, 
 when it arrived, relieve her mind. Mrs. 
 
ROSAMOND. 41 
 
 Cole's physicians had advised her, instead of 
 staying in Devonshire, to proceed imediately 
 to the Continent for her health ; and she was 
 on the point of sailing, when she wrote a short, 
 hurried answer to Rosamond's petition. She 
 regretted, she said, the mistakes and misrep- 
 resentations that had occurred. She wished 
 that it was now in her power to take the child 
 with her, but it was impossible she could de- 
 lay her voyage ; and she could only hope that, 
 when she should return to England, in the 
 course of six or seven months, she should be 
 able to take Bessy Bell again ; in the mean 
 time, she desired that Bessy might remain 
 with Mrs. White. The letter concluded with 
 a kind message of forgiveness to the child, and 
 of regret for her disappointment. 
 
 This message was some consolation to Ro- 
 samond. But still she felt very unhappy, till 
 a bright idea darted across her imagination, a 
 generous project, which, if she could but ex- 
 ecute, would turn all her sorrow into joy. She 
 asked her mother if she would give her leave 
 to have Bessy Bell, and to take care of her 
 while Mrs. Cole was away. But her mother 
 did not approve of her plan. Changing sud- 
 denly from the tone of delight in which she 
 had made the request, Rosamond exclaimed, 
 ' O, mother ! what objections can you have?' 
 
 1 Several, my dear, on the child's own ac- 
 count, and with respect to Mrs. Cole, who 
 has desired that her pupil should remain with 
 
 VOL. II. 4 
 
42 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Mrs. White. But my chief objection is on 
 your own account.' 
 
 1 My own account ! O, my dear mother, 
 nothing in this world could make me so hap- 
 
 py-' 
 
 I Yes, my dear, I know that, to your kind 
 heart and generous temper, it would be a 
 great pleasure to do all this — it would be as 
 great a reward as I could give you. But, 
 Rosamond, do you think you deserve to be 
 rewarded ? ' 
 
 I I acknowledge that I do not,' said Rosa- 
 mond ; l but have not I been punished enough, 
 mother? I see so strongly the bad conse- 
 quences of my folly and imprudence, I cannot 
 be more convinced than I am, nor more re- 
 solved never to fall into the same fault again. 
 All that I have felt has made such a deep im- 
 pression upon me, I never, never can forget it.' 
 
 1 Do you recollect your former good resolu- 
 tions, my dear Rosamond,' said her mother, 
 1 and the deep impression made by reading 
 that affecting story ? ' 
 
 ' I do, mother,' said Rosamond, coloring ; 
 1 and 1 1 cannot conceive how I could ever for- 
 get it, when I was so very much struck and 
 touched by it, and so resolved ! But,' added 
 she, after a pause, ' I do not mean it as an 
 excuse ; but I may say that I do not know, at 
 least I was not quite sure that it was a true 
 story ; and certainly no story can make such 
 an impression as what is true, and especially 
 what really has happened to oneself 
 
ROSAMOND. 43 
 
 1 And why, Rosamond ? Shall I tell you V 
 said her mother. 
 
 ' If you please, mother, and if you can.' 
 
 ' One reason,' said her mother, ' may be 
 that the consequences of our actions last long- 
 er in real life than in fiction. The moral of 
 a story is read or perceived in three or four 
 minutes ; the consequences of our own actions 
 last often for months, for years. If they did 
 not, perhaps we should forget them, and profit 
 as little by experience, even by our own ex- 
 perience, as by good advice, or good stories.' 
 
 ' O, mother, what a reproach ! ' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' My love, I do not reproach, or wish to 
 give you pain ; but I speak seriously, because, 
 Rosamond, you are no longer a child, and 
 you must consider not only the present but 
 the future. I know it is your sincere wish to 
 correct your own faults and to make yourself 
 an amiable woman. This habit of exaggera- 
 tion, of repeating every thing you hear, is not 
 easily broken ; it is a fault to which we wo- 
 men are, it is said, peculiarly liable, because 
 we have fewer subjects of importance to en- 
 gage our thoughts, and we come frequently 
 into those little competitions and rivalships, 
 which lead to envy and jealousy, and thence 
 to detraction and slander. Lively people, 
 who can entertain by mimicry, or exaggerated 
 description, are, of all others, the most expos- 
 ed to continually recurring temptation on that 
 subject ; and you, Rosamond, should therefore 
 
44 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 watch over yourself. Now I will say no 
 more, my dear daughter ; judge and decide for 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' Temptations will recur,' repeated Rosa- 
 mond. ' Yes, I know they will, when I am 
 again in company, mother, where example 
 encourages me, and the wish to amuse. O, I 
 know all the difficulties ! and I am convinced 
 that it is better that all my sorrow should not 
 be turned to joy immediately, or else perhaps 
 I should, as you say quite forget it. Well, 
 my dear mother, I will prove to you that I am 
 in earnest resolved to make myself an ami- 
 able woman ; — I submit ; I give up my scheme. 
 I am only sorry for Bessy Bell ; but it will do 
 me good for life, I am almost sure. It will be 
 a great punishment to know and recollect 
 every day that this poor girl is suffering from 
 my imprudence,' said Rosamond, in a falter- 
 ing voice ; ' but let it be so.' 
 
 Her mother was so well satisfied, not only 
 with the candor, but with the resolution which 
 Rosamond showed by this determination, that 
 she mitigated the punishment by giving her 
 permission that Bessy Bell might come to her 
 every morning for one hour. It was settled 
 that this must not interfere with any of- Rosa- 
 mond's own lessons or daily duties. The 
 time fixed was, as she had proposed, an hour 
 before breakfast. And, to Rosamond's credit, 
 be it recorded that, well as she loved sleeping 
 late, she was regularly up in good time, and 
 never, even for a single morning, missed hear- 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 45 
 
 ing this child read, seeing her work, and at- 
 tending to that she had learned. 
 
 Bessy Bell was sweet-tempered and docile, 
 and her gratitude might be depended upon, 
 because she was grateful, not only to Rosa- 
 mond, but to the benefactress who was at a 
 distance, of whom she often spoke with great 
 affection, and about whose health she express- 
 ed great anxiety. 
 
 At last, happily for this child and for Rosa- 
 mond, Mrs. Cole recovered, returned to Eng- 
 land, and sent for Bessy Bell, who went to 
 
46 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her and was received by her benefactress 
 again with all her former kindness. 
 
 Nothing more is to be known concerning 
 Mrs. Cole and Bessy Bell ; but we have the 
 pleasure to assure all, who are interested for 
 Rosamond, that the pain which she endured, 
 in consequence of the imprudence of which 
 she had been guilty, made a lasting and use- 
 ful impression upon her mind. Whenever 
 she was tempted to tell an ill-natured anec- 
 dote, to amuse or to produce surprise or effect, 
 she recollected Bessy Bell, checked herself, 
 and carefully refrained from any exaggera- 
 tion, andffrom all Petty Scandal. 
 
 AIRS AND GRACES. 
 
 "DOSAMOND had now arrived at that age 
 -"' when girls are considered neither quite 
 as children nor quite as women. She became 
 very desirous to please and anxious about her 
 appearance and manners. Her mother was 
 in London ; and Rosamond, though she was 
 much too young to go out, as it is called, had 
 opportunity of seeing at her mother's, and of 
 meeting at different houses, many young com- 
 panions. Uncertain which of their manners 
 she liked best, or what would best become 
 her, she tried a great variety ; sometimes 
 catching involuntarily, sometimes purposely 
 imitating, every new tone, look, gesture, and 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 47 
 
 mode of expression of those whom she heard 
 admired, or whom she thought pretty, grace- 
 ful, or fashionable. In consequence of these 
 imitations and changes of manner, Rosamond 
 had become a little, perhaps not a little, affec- 
 ted. 
 
 About this time her brother Godfrey, who 
 had been at school, returned to spend the 
 holidays at home. 
 
 Onetnorning, a few days after his arrival, 
 he found Rosamond alone, practising attitudes 
 before a large mirror. 
 
 ' I am practising ; I am going to practise 
 my chasse for the quadrille this evening, 
 
48 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Godfrey, ' said she. ' You have never seen 
 me dance since I learned quadrilles. I'll 
 show you my steps.' 
 
 ' Do so,' said Godfrey ; ' but I am afraid I 
 shall not do as well for you as the glass.' 
 
 ' Never mind, you'll do very well ; better 
 indeed, for you can speak to me,' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 And then, in the hope of surprising and de- 
 lighting him, ' she ran her female exercises 
 o'er,' displaying all her newly acquired airs 
 and graces. 
 
 Godfrey, when she stopped to take breath, 
 and when she looked towards him with mod- 
 est expectation of applause, sang, in a mock 
 tone of rapture, the words of an old song, — 
 
 With an air and a grace, 
 And a shape and a face, 
 She charms like beauty's goddess. 
 
 Rosamond was not quite pleased with God- 
 frey's tone the first time he sang her praises ; 
 but when, at each pause, as her eye involun- 
 tarily turned upon him for approbation, he 
 re-commenced the same song, she was no 
 longer able to conceal her disappointment, 
 and, in a tone of vexation, she exclaimed, — 
 ' Godfrey, I do wish you would not sing so ! ' 
 
 ' And suppose I was to answer, Rosamond, 
 I do wish you would not dance so ! ' 
 
 ' How, brother?' asked Rosamond. 
 
 ' This way,' replied he, imitating the affec- 
 ted turns of the head, and all her favorite 
 grimaces, in a ludicrous manner. 
 
ROSAMOND. 49 
 
 c How very odd ! how very awkward ! ' said 
 Rosamond, half laughing. ' To be sure no- 
 body could like to see any body dance so.' 
 
 4 That was just what I was thinking,' said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 ' But, my dear Godfrey, I don't dance in 
 that ridiculous way.' 
 
 ' Are you sure that my way is at all more 
 ridiculous than yours ? ' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' I can only assure you,' said Rosamond, 
 with a little conceited motion of her head, and 
 with a look and tone of decided superiority, 
 ' I must only beg leave to assure you, brother, 
 that my way was learned from somebody, 
 who is not thought at all ridiculous, but who 
 is universally admired.' 
 
 ' Universally admired ! Who can that 
 be?' 
 
 i One whom M. Deschamps called La reine 
 des sylphes. Lady Cecilia Bouverie's niece 
 too — Susanetta Manners.' 
 
 ' Susanetta Manners ! Before I went to 
 school, did not I know one Susan Manners ? ' 
 
 f One Susan Manners ! such a way of speak- 
 ing! Yes, you did know her, Godfrey, and 
 you thought her very pretty ; but she is much 
 prettier now, since she has been in Paris and 
 Italy.' 
 
 ' But how comes she to have turned into 
 Susanetta?' said Godfrey. 
 
 1 Not turned at all,' replied Rosamond ; < but 
 Susanetta is the Italian for Susan ; little Su-- 
 
 VOL. II. 5 
 
50 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 san, the Italian diminutive, you know. She 
 was always Susanetta in Italy.' 
 
 ' But why not Susan in England?' said the 
 downright Godfrey, with a look of stupidi- 
 ty. 
 
 1 O, I don't know, because Susanetta is so 
 much prettier, and shows she has been abroad. 
 She learned to dance from M. Deschamps in 
 Paris ; and she, like a dear creature as she is, 
 taught me all her steps, and the right way of 
 doing every thing. So you need not laugh at 
 me, Godfrey.' 
 
 c Well, I will be serious ; you know I am 
 but an ignoramus. , Let me see you do it 
 again,' said Godfrey ; ' encore ! encore ! ' 
 
 With all the simplicity, all the credulity of 
 vanity, Rosamond re-commenced her dance, 
 • exhibiting new graces for Godfrey, who, she 
 hoped, was now really in admiration, for he 
 was quite silent and profoundly attentive; 
 till, just at the moment when the favorite 
 turn of the neck, at the end of chasse, came, 
 he burst forth again, — 
 
 With an air and a grace, 
 And a shape and a face, 
 She charmed like heauty's god-dess. 
 
 bowing when he came to the flourish in the 
 middle of goddess. He sang in so rude and 
 insulting a strain, that Rosamond, stopping 
 in the midst of her dance, exclaimed, ' In- 
 deed, Godfrey, you put me out entirely ; I can 
 not do my chasse. 
 
 M am only admiring you, my dear, to the 
 
ROSAMOND. 51 
 
 best of my ability ; I thought you wanted to 
 be admired.' 
 
 1 No, I do not in the least want you to ad- 
 mire me, Godfrey,' said Rosamond; 'only do 
 not put me out with that odious beauty's god- 
 dess.' 
 
 ' What can beauty's goddess have to do 
 with your chasse V 
 
 i I don't say that it has any thing to do 
 with it ; but — ' 
 
 At this moment Laura, opening the folding- 
 doors of the front drawing-room, told Rosa- 
 mond that she was ready to play for her, if 
 she was ready to dance. 
 
 ' I am quite ready,' said Rosamond, c if 
 Godfrey will be quiet. Now, brother, do 
 pray,' added she, turning to him with a look 
 and tone of affected distress, ' when I tell you 
 it really annoys me so.' 
 
 ' It really annoys you so,' repeated Godfrey. 
 1 An-noys me ! I wish I could say annoy with 
 that pretty turn of my head, that sweet close 
 of my eyelids, and that languid drawl of my 
 voice. Rosamond, could you teach me, do 
 you think 1 Look now, is this it % It an-noys 
 me so.' 
 
 ' Pray, Godfrey, do not be so provoking, so 
 foolish,' said Rosamond. ' Did you never 
 hear the word annoy before ? Every body 
 says annoy, I assure you ; and, if you had 
 not been at school, you would have learned it 
 too. But,' continued she, ' there is poor, dear 
 
52 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Laura playing II Pastorale for me, wasting 
 her music on the desert air.' 
 
 1 II Pastorale ! Poor, dear Laura, wasting 
 her sweetness on the desert air ! ' repeated 
 Godfrey. ' How fine ! I wish I could talk so. 
 How I have wasted my time at school ! O 
 YirgillOvid! Homer! Horace! Caesar! and 
 all your commentaries ! where are you now ? 
 What are you all to this ? ' 
 
 ' It is too much, Godfrey ! I cannot bear 
 it ! ' cried Rosamond. She run to the piano- 
 forte, and, stopping Laura's hand, ' Stop, and 
 hear me/ said she. ' Now, Laura, I appeal 
 to you ; when I have not seen Godfrey for 
 such a length of time, and when I expected 
 such pleasure, you know, from his coming 
 home at his holidays, is it kind of him, is not 
 it cruel of him, when I was doing all I could 
 to please him too ; is not it very ill-natured 
 of him to laugh at me, and sing at me, and 
 mimic me V 
 
 Laura was going to speak, but Godfrey put 
 his hand before her mouth. 
 
 ' Ha ! my own dear little sister Rosamond ! 
 Now I hear your own voice again ; now I see 
 you yourself again ; and now I love you with 
 all my heart.' 
 
 ' Love me ! ' said Rosamond, and tears 
 would have flowed, but pride struggled and 
 repressed them. 
 
 1 My dear, dear Rosamond,' cried Godfrey, 
 1 I love you with all my heart, and that is the 
 very reason I cannot bear to see you any 
 
ROSAMOND. 53 
 
 thing but what you really are — so be my own 
 dear Rosamond. 7 
 
 ' Well ! am not I your own dear Rosa- 
 mond ? ' 
 
 ' Now you are.' 
 
 1 1 am sure I am the same to you. Godfrey ; 
 I love you as well as ever,' said Rosamond. 
 
 1 But I cquld not love you as well as ever,' 
 said Godfrey, ' if — ' 
 
 ' If what 1 ' said Rosamond. ' Now finish 
 your sentence.' 
 
 ' Well, then, if you were to have all those 
 airs and graces that you have lately learned, 
 I could not like you so well, Rosamond. You 
 can't think how the boys at school hate all 
 affectation; and I would not for any thing 
 have a sister of mine affected ! ' 
 
 ' I am sure, Godfrey, I am not affected. I 
 don't know what you mean by affectation. 
 Nobody hates affectation more than I do.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear that,' replied Godfrey. 
 1 But, if you hate it so much, you must ac- 
 knowledge that you know what I mean by it, 
 else you say you hate you don't know what. 
 You see, my dear, I have not been at school 
 and learned logic for nothing.' 
 
 ' Indeed I see you have not been at school 
 for nothing,' said Rosamond ; ' you have 
 learned to triumph over, and laugh at your 
 poor little sister.' 
 
 ' Come, come, I will triumph over you no 
 more, Rosamond,' said Godfrey, kissing her 
 affectionately. ' Here is my hand, I promise 
 
54 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 you I will not laugh at you any more, if you 
 will be your own dear self — only promise me 
 that' 
 
 Rosamond, though now touched by her 
 brother's tone of tenderness and affection, felt 
 some remains of resentment for his former 
 irony, and had a strong desire to make him 
 retract his charge of affectation, on which 
 point she was perhaps the more nice, from a 
 secret consciousness that there was some truth 
 in the reproach. She gave him her hand, but 
 not quite cordially. 
 
 1 Upon condition, brother,' said she, ' that 
 you will never say I am affected any more.' 
 
 ' Upon condition, Rosamond, that you will 
 never be affected any more,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' But who is to be judge?' said Rosamond ; 
 'we shall never agree.' 
 
 ' Will you agree that Laura shall be judge?' 
 said Godfrey. 
 
 ' With all my heart,' said Rosamond ; ' for 
 I am sure she never thought me affected — did 
 you Laura? 1 
 
 A slight downcast look, and a playful smile 
 upon Laura's countenance, prevented Rosa- 
 mond from repeating her question ; but God- 
 frey pressed for an answer. 
 
 ' Now do, Laura, answer, that Rosamond 
 may be convinced I am not unjust, and that 
 it is not all my fancy, and that I am not so 
 very hard upon her. Now, Laura, can you 
 say that you never thought her affected?' 
 
 ' No, I cannot say that,' replied Laura; ' 1 
 
ROSAMOND. 55 
 
 acknowledge I have seen her sometimes, lately, 
 appear a little affected ; but I don't think she 
 is really so, that is, I don't think she has the 
 habit of affectation. She has caught looks, 
 and manners, and ways, from different peo- 
 ple.' 
 
 ' O yes, I know.. I acknowledge, Laura, 
 you told me of that, but in such a different 
 way from Godfrey — ' 
 
 ■ That it did you no good, you find,' said 
 Godfrey, laughing. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Rosamond ; ' but the truth 
 is, I imitate them often without intending it, 
 and I really don't always know when I do it. 
 If you would tell me at the minute — ' 
 
 ' Then, my dear,' said Godfrey, ' I will tell 
 you whenever you do it and don't know it. 
 I'll always sing — 
 
 With an air and a grace, &c.' 
 
 1 But you cannot sing in company, you 
 know,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' But I could hum in a low tone, just loud 
 enough for you, and nobody else to hear.' 
 
 ' No, you could not hum ; that will never 
 do,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Well, then, just the two words, Beauty's 
 Goddess ! will do.' 
 
 ' No — beauty's goddess — nonsense ! how 
 could you bring them in ? ' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Trust to my ingenuity for that,' said God- 
 frey ; ' or, without my saying a word, this 
 look, Rosamond, will put you in mind, and 
 
56 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 you will comprehend my meaning, I will 
 answer for it' 
 
 Pleased to see his power over Rosamond, 
 eager to exercise it, and flattering himself that 
 his only motive was the wish to do his sister 
 good, Godfrey spared no opportunity of sing- 
 ing, humming, saying, Beauty's Goddess, 
 calling up his warning look. Rosamond felt 
 sometimes ashamed, sometimes vexed. Often 
 she appealed in private to Laura, who endea- 
 vored, as kindly and gently as she could, to 
 do justice between them, and neither to flat- 
 ter Rosamond, nor to indulge Godfrey in his 
 love of power, and habit of teasing. Rosa- 
 mond sincerely wished to please her brother, 
 and as earnestly wishing to avoid his dreaded 
 ridicule, laid aside, in the course of a fortnight, 
 most of the little affected habits of which she 
 was conscious ; but still there were some re- 
 maining to which she adhered, either because 
 they had grown habitual, and she was there- 
 fore unconscious of them, or because she 
 thought that they were too becoming, and too 
 like some fashionable and charming model, to 
 be hastily abandoned, even in complaisance 
 to Godfrey. She thought he might not be a 
 perfect judge of fashion and manner, and that 
 he might be a little prejudiced, a little per- 
 verse, and perhaps a little capricious. 
 
 One instance of what she thought caprice 
 in him, she keenly felt. In consequence of 
 his dislike and ridicule of what he had called 
 the twist, and she the turn, of her head in the 
 
ROSAMOND. 57 
 
 quadrille, she had taken pains to alter it, and 
 had abandoned various attitudes and graces 
 of the dance which she had learned from Su- 
 sanetta, the queen of the sylphs ; Godfrey had 
 thanked her and approved of her, and had 
 declared he liked her own natural style of 
 dancing a thousand times better. 
 
 She was, or she endeavored to be, satisfied 
 with his being pleased, though it was some 
 sacrifice, she thought, to give up what others 
 admired so much. But Godfrey had not seen 
 Susanetta's dancing, till one night when he 
 met her at a children's ball, where she was 
 acknowledged to be the prettiest girl in the 
 room. Rosamond heard some mothers near 
 her wish that their daughters could dance 
 like Miss Susanetta Manners ; and many 
 gentlemen exclaimed, ' Graceful, beautiful lit- 
 tle creature ! certainly she dances inimitably ! ' 
 Inimitably ! Now, thought Rosamond, I could 
 imitate that exactly, and did ; but I gave it 
 up because Godfrey called it affectation. Yet 
 there he is, admiring it, after all. 
 
 At the first convenient opportunity, when 
 she and her brother were together, Rosamond 
 reproached him with his inconsistency. 
 
 ' So, Godfrey, after all, I saw you admiring 
 Susanetta's dancing last night.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said he ; ' she dances very well.' 
 
 ' Very well ! So I told you,' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' I am happy to agree with you, sister,' 
 said Godfrey. 
 
58 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 Happy to disagree with me, you mean ; 
 else why did you laugh at me for the very 
 same way of dancing that you admire in 
 Miss Manners '? ' 
 
 ' It did not appear to me the same,' said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 ' But .it was the same, I assure you ; I imi- 
 tated her exactly, though some people say she 
 is inimitable,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' By your own account there was one great 
 difference.' 
 
 ' Great difference ! What 1 ' 
 
 ' That one was original, and the other imi- 
 tation,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Ah ! there was my folly in telling you that 
 I imitated her,' said Rosamond ; ' if I had not 
 told it to you, you never could have found it 
 out' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Rosamond ; I should 
 have found it out immediately.' 
 
 ' You ! so little used to dancing ! pretend 
 to be such a judge ! such a connoisseur ! If 
 this is not affectation ! ' cried Rosamond — ' I 
 only wish that Laura was here, that I might 
 appeal to her.' 
 
 ' Without appealing to any body, try me, 
 not only as to your dancing, but as to your 
 manners in general, and I will tell you from 
 whom you imitate various tones, and twists, 
 and words, and even thoughts.' 
 
 Rosamond doubted whether he could do 
 so, but not much- liking to put him to the 
 proof, she passed over his offer hastily, and 
 
ROSAMOND. 59 
 
 said, c Well, but suppose I did imitate those 
 people, what then 1 Where is the shame 1 
 Where is the harm V 
 
 1 The shame is in your cheeks at this mo- 
 ment ; you blush to be found out,' said God- 
 frey. 
 
 ' At being suspected,' said Rosamond. ' But 
 still I don't know the harm of copying what 
 I think engaging or graceful in others.' 
 
 ' Only the chance of making yourself ridic- 
 ulous and disagreeable,' replied Godfrey. 
 
 ' But why disagreeable ? Why ridiculous 1 
 Why should that be disagreeable in me,' said 
 Rosamond, • which is thought agreeable in 
 another ? I come round to my first question.' 
 
 i And I to my first answer,' said Godfrey; 
 1 that one is original and the other imitation ; 
 and I detest all imitations, of manners at least.' 
 
 ' But still your detesting them is no reason,' 
 said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Every body detests them ! ' cried Godfrey. 
 
 1 That, begging your pardon, is a mistake,' 
 said Rosamond, ' for many people have liked 
 and admired in me the very same things that 
 you detest. So you see there is no disputing 
 about tastes. But why do you detest imita- 
 tions 1 Now, for the sake of argument, as 
 you say, Godfrey, suppose that you were one 
 of the persons who did not find out the differ- 
 ence, why should not my dancing, or my 
 manner, in all those little things that you dis- 
 like, be as agreeable as the originals, if the 
 imitation is quite perfect.' 
 
60 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 £ But I tell you there is always this differ- 
 ence, that one is natural and the other affec- 
 ted ; and though some few may be taken 
 in for a time, it is always found out at 
 last.' 
 
 1 And, when it is found out, why is it dis- 
 agreeable,' persisted Rosamond. 
 
 ' O, you are arguing in a circle,' cried God- 
 frey, impatiently. 
 
 ' We are,' said Rosamond, ' and I can't help 
 it.' 
 
 ' And I can't bear it,' said Godfrey; ' so I 
 am off.' 
 
 Rosamond felt that she was not convinced 
 by any thing he had said, and saw that he 
 went off because he was not able to explain 
 himself farther, or to give her any farther 
 reason or answer to her questions. She, after 
 this conversation, became much less submis- 
 sive to his opinion, and even withstood his 
 ridicule, in a manner that surprised him. 
 Sometimes she relapsed, as he said, into her 
 former follies, and then he exerted all his wit 
 and power over her, not only to cure her, as 
 he professed, but to prove that he was in the 
 right, and to obtain the victory. Rosamond 
 at last became quite puzzled, and her man- 
 ners suddenly altered, and grew constrained 
 and awkward, especially when Godfrey was 
 present. When he was out of the room she 
 was more at her ease, but her manner was 
 not more natural or agreeable, because, when 
 relieved from his observation, and from the 
 
ROSAMOND. 61 
 
 fear of his laughing at her, she took the op- 
 portunity of trying experiments on new graces, 
 which she found, or fancied she found, suc- 
 ceeded with new spectators. 
 
 All this had not passed unobserved by her 
 mother, who, one morning at breakfast, took 
 notice of some sudden change in Rosamond's 
 look and manner when Godfrey came into the 
 room, and asked her to explain the cause of 
 her sudden silence, reserve, and constraint. 
 Rosamond, blushing, and seeming yet more 
 constrained and embarrassed, said only, she 
 was sorry, but she could not help feeling awk- 
 ward sometimes. This answer not being sat- 
 isfactory, Godfrey could not forbear smiling ; 
 but then, Rosamond's discomfiture increas- 
 ing, and Laura looking at him reproachfully, 
 he became serious, and a very awkward si- 
 lence ensued for at least five minutes, which 
 appeared, to the parties concerned, of incalcu- 
 lable length. Indeed, Rosamond doubted 
 whether it ever would end, or how, or who 
 would next venture to speak ; she was certain 
 she could not, she hoped Godfrey would not, 
 and she wondered Laura did not. Laura un- 
 derstood her wishes, and made the effort, but 
 what she said will never reach posterity, as 
 not a creature present heard or understood 
 more, than that it was some observation on 
 hot rolls. 
 
 ' I believe, mother,' exclaimed Godfrey, 1 1 
 am the cause of it all ; for I believe I have 
 gone too far, and done more harm than good. 
 
62 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Poor Rosamond ! I have plagued her too 
 much, and I am very sorry for it.' 
 
 ' Well, then, if you are, it's all over,' said 
 Rosamond ; [ I am sure I forgive you with all 
 my heart, and there is an end of the matter — 
 only don't let us say any more about it.' 
 
 : My dear Rosamond/ said her father, 'I 
 love your generous, forgiving, amiable tem- 
 per ; it is particularly amiable in a woman to 
 be ready to yield, and avoid disputing about 
 trifles. And I am convinced this will make 
 your brother more careful not to tease you, — 
 
 And trust, my dears, good-humor will prevail, 
 
 When airs, and flights, and screams, and scoldings fail. 
 
 1 But, father,' said Rosamond, shrinking 
 back a little as her father was going to kiss 
 her, ' I am afraid I don't quite deserve it, for 
 it was not all, or only good-humor that made 
 me in such a hurry to forgive Godfrey, and 
 that made me say, Let us say no more about 
 it ; I was rather ashamed of telling before you 
 and mother, and every body, all about it.' 
 
 ' Who do you mean by every body, Rosa- 
 mond, my dear,' said her mother; ' here are 
 only your father, your sister, your brothers, 
 and myself. Which of us stands for every 
 body?' 
 
 1 I suppose I must be every body,' said Or- 
 lando, as Rosamond timidly looked towards 
 him. ' Since I am such a terrific person, I'll 
 go away as soon as I have swallowed this 
 cup of tea.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 63 
 
 'Pray don't go, Orlando,' said Rosamond. 
 1 It is better for me that you should stay ; in- 
 deed, my dear Orlando, it is my real wish.' 
 
 She pressed so urgently upon his shoulder, 
 that he could not rise, in opposition to what 
 he felt was her ' real wish.' 
 
 1 And now, my dear, go on,' said her father. 
 
 ' You must know then,' said Rosamond, 
 ' that Godfrey's dispute and mine — I mean 
 Godfrey's argument and mine — was about 
 affectation? 
 
 It seemed to be with some shame or difficul- 
 ty that she pronounced the word affectation. 
 
 ' Affectation, my dear,' said her father, ' is, 
 after all, as the wise and indulgent Locke has 
 observed, only a mistaken attempt to please.' 
 
 ' Mistaken indeed ! ' cried Orlando, and he 
 spoke with a tone and look of contempt, which 
 Rosamond deeply felt. But Orlando was so 
 much taken up with his own thoughts, that 
 he did not perceive the effect of his words. 
 
 'Well, Rosamond, go on,' said her father. 
 
 1 As soon as I can — as soon as I can recol- 
 lect what I was going to say ; I do not know 
 then exactly what is meant by affectation.' 1 
 
 1 Not know what is meant by affectation ! ' 
 cried Orlando, with a look of astonishment. 
 
 'O, Rosamond, Rosamond !' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Take your own time, Rosamond,' said her 
 mother, 'your father will hear you patiently.' 
 
 ' That I will, if I sit here till dinner time,' 
 said her father. 
 
 ' Heaven forbid,' thought Godfrey, making 
 
64 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 some sort of interjection between a sigh and 
 a groan ; but, without minding him, his fa- 
 ther attended to Rosamond. 
 
 Rosamond then, determining to state her 
 old difficulties in a new way, and to keep as 
 far from Susanetta as possible, began again in 
 general terms : — ' People, young people, are 
 continually told, that they ought to have a- 
 greeable manners. But when young people, 
 girls I mean particularly, do their best to try 
 to have these agreeable manners, and begin 
 to imitate what other people do, they are told 
 not to imitate, and are laughed at for being 
 affected ; they are told to be themselves, and 
 to be natural ; but then again, I don't know 
 what is meant by being natural.' 
 
 ' Then you must be a natural,' cried God- 
 frey. 
 
 ' Gently, Godfrey,' said his mother, ' that 
 is not fair.' 
 
 £ Go on, Rosamond,' said her father, in an 
 encouraging tone, ' I would rather hear rea- 
 son than wit at present.' 
 
 ' It is not natural, it is not born with us to 
 have any manner, is it?' said Rosamond. 
 ' Even to use our knives and forks in the 
 way we do, or to make a bow or curtsy, or 
 in our ways of sitting and standing, must we 
 not imitate others ] You would not call this 
 affectation 3 ' 
 
 1 Certainly not,' cried all present. 
 
 ' In all these things,' said her father, ' which 
 depend on established forms and usages, we 
 
ROSAMOND. 05 
 
 must imitate whatever is the custom or fash- 
 ion of the society in which we live.' 
 
 1 So I say, father ; but then why not imitate 
 other things in manners, which are just as 
 much the fashion. But if one begins to imi- 
 tate any pretty ways, motions, words, man- 
 ners, even of those who are most admired, 
 then comes the outcry against affectation.' 
 
 ' And very justly, surely,' said Orlando. 
 
 ' I say nothing,' said Godfrey. 
 
 { But I say,' continued Rosamond, ' there 
 is my great difficulty, father, to know where 
 wrong imitation begins, and where right imi- 
 tation ends.' 
 
 ' That is a sensible question, and not easy 
 to answer,' said her father ; ' but I will an- 
 swer you from your own words. As long as 
 people imitate only what is of established 
 form and custom in manners they are not 
 affected ; when they begin voluntarily to imi- 
 tate pretty motions and ways, as you call 
 them, and when they do this with the aim of 
 pleasing, by what they are conscious is not 
 their own manner, there they are affected.' 
 
 ' And why should we not imitate what is 
 agreeable in others, and why does it displease 
 people ) ' said Rosamond. ' If the things 
 please in one person, why should they not 
 please in another 1 ' 
 
 ' There may be many reasons for this, Ro- 
 samond ; if you have patience to hear them 
 all, I will endeavor to explain them.' 
 
 VOL. II. 6 
 
66 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 1 ! 0, I have patience,' said Rosamond. 
 
 1 In the first place, you take it for granted 
 that the pretty ways imitated are really agree- 
 able ; this may be a mistake ; they may have 
 pleased, and have been admired, merely be- 
 cause they belonged to some pretty person ; 
 and, when they are imitated by one less pret- 
 ty, they may not only have no longer any 
 power to please, but they may be ridiculous.' 
 
 1 The very truth ! ' said Godfrey, ' though I 
 could not explain it.' 
 
 ' I understand,' said Rosamond; 'but sup- 
 pose, father, that the motions and manners 
 are really in themselves graceful and agree- 
 able, then why should we not imitate them ? ' 
 
 ' I will not stop at present, my dear, to in- 
 quire what manners are in themselves really 
 graceful, because this would lead us too far ; 
 but take it for granted that they are such, still 
 the exact imitation would not please, because 
 what suits in one person will not suit in an- 
 other ; the figure, or the manner in general, 
 may be so different from the manner imitated 
 as to strike us with the contrast and unfitness. 
 Suppose you put the arms and legs of a clum- 
 sy statue to the body of a thin one, or a young 
 and beautiful head upon the body of a statue 
 representing an aged, wrinkled figure, would 
 not the unfitness, and incongruity, and want 
 of agreement in the whole, strke you?' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Rosamond, laughing. 
 
 ' And suppose,' continued her father, ' that 
 if, instead of merely changing arms and legs ; 
 
ROSAMOND. 67 
 
 the statues were allowed the powers of mo- 
 tion, will, and imitation, do you think that 
 anty whole statue could, with any chance of 
 pleasing, assume the attitude and air of an- 
 other? Suppose the well-clothed statue of 
 Minerva was set in motion, and assumed the 
 air of Canova's Venus or Hebe ; or suppose 
 Hebe tried to look like Niobe, or to assume 
 the helmet and the air of Minerva, would not 
 this be monstrous or ridiculous V 
 
 1 Yes ; but those are such very different 
 figures and characters,' said Rosamond. — 
 ' Surely some might be better suited, father, 
 if not among statues, among real people.' 
 
 ' Yet,' said her father, ' we seldom, if ever, 
 see two persons so much alike in person and 
 mind, that manners which suit the one would 
 become the other ; therefore even exact imi- 
 tation would appear awkward, unfit, unnatu- 
 ral, or disagreeable, or, in short, what we call 
 affected. But I began by supposing the most 
 favorable case, where the imitation is as per- 
 fect as possible ; but this rarely occurs. In 
 most imitations of manner there is some fail- 
 ure, some exaggeration, some awkwardness, 
 or some apparent consciousness or effort, 
 which betrays that the manner is not natural, 
 and this effort it is painful to the spectator to 
 see.' 
 
 ' Very painful ! ' said Orlando, i writhing 
 himself. ' I have felt tired, as if I had been 
 hard at work, when I have been in company 
 with an affected person ; doubly tired — tired 
 
68 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 for myself, and tired for the person who works 
 so hard to no purpose.' 
 
 ( Besides, there is another disagreeable feel- 
 ing we have when in company with affected 
 people,' said Laura. ' I am always afraid 
 that they should perceive that I have found 
 them out, and that I dislike them ; they are 
 all the time trying to conceal what I cannot 
 help discovering.' 
 
 1 1 confess I have felt this,' said Rosamond 
 ' with affected people.' 
 
 ' But then each person hopes they may not 
 be found out, though others are,' said Godfrey. 
 
 £ So far for affectation of mere external 
 manners,' said her father, ' what we may call 
 bodily affectation ; but, when we go farther, 
 and consider the imitation of sentiments, feel- 
 ings, and opinions, what may be called men- 
 tal affectation, the affectation for instance of 
 sensibility or vivacity, then we dislike the 
 imitators still more ; we not only despise those 
 who attempt to please us by pretending to 
 sentiments or feelings which are not their 
 own, but we resent the endeavor to impose 
 upon us.' 
 
 'But, father,' interrupted Rosamond, 'now 
 you are speaking of dissimulation and false- 
 hood, not mere affectation.' 
 
 ' And is not all affectation a sort of dissim- 
 ulation ; ' said her father ; ' and is there not 
 some falsehood in all affectation?' 
 
 ' Surely there is,' said Orlando ; ' that is the 
 reason why I detest and despise it. It is im- 
 
ROSAMOND. 69 
 
 possible to sympathize with affected people ; 
 whether they pretend to feel joy, or grief, or 
 surprise, or delight, it is all over-done ; we do 
 not understand their real feelings, and we 
 cannot sympathize with what is not true or 
 natural. I never could love nor make a friend 
 of an affected person.' 
 
 While Orlando, with a vehemence of indig- 
 nation uncommon in him, uttered these words, 
 Rosamond's color grew deeper and deeper, 
 and there came the choking feeling in her 
 throat ; at last she exclaimed, ' Now I have 
 lost all ! Orlando too ! This was the reason 
 I was at first afraid of his staying — of his 
 hearing. I had a feeling that he hated and 
 despised affectation ! ' 
 
 i And what then, my dear ! ' said the aston- 
 ished Orlando. 
 
 ' His thoughts/ cried Godfrey, ' were at 
 least four hundred miles off, I'll engage.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' said Orlando, ' for they were at 
 Edinburgh with a person I saw there last 
 week.' 
 
 1 I am glad of it,' said Rosamond, recover- 
 ing a little ; ' I am sure I am glad your 
 thoughts were not with me, when you gave 
 that look. One look of contempt from Or- 
 lando is worse to me than all your ridicule, 
 Godfrey.' 
 
 ' I do not understand above a third of what 
 is going on here,' said Orlando. ' You do not 
 mean, Godfrey, that Rosamond, my sister 
 Rosamond, is affected? When I went to 
 
70 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Edinburgh she was the most natural little 
 creature I ever knew ; and I see no difference 
 in her now, but that she has grown taller and 
 rather prettier, which is a good thing, as she 
 is to be a woman, and which I am very glad 
 to see. That's all I have to say.' 
 
 The abrupt and droliy grave manner in 
 which Orlando said this, viewing Rosamond 
 from head to foot as he spoke, and finishing 
 by turning her round and contemplating her 
 back, made Godfrey burst into laughter, and 
 proved a happy relief to Rosamond's embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 ' Bravo ! my dear absent brother ! Cheer 
 up, Rosamond, my girl ! All is safe ! ' 
 
 ' But,' said Rosamond, gaining fresh cour- 
 age, ' mother has said nothing ; I must know 
 what mother thinks ; I must ask her one 
 question ; Mother, did you ever see in me — 
 did you ever think me — you know what I 
 mean 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, I do know what you mean/ 
 said her mother, smiling ; ' and, since you 
 ask the question, I must answer, and ac- 
 knowledge that I have sometimes lately seen 
 some little airs and graces, and have seen 
 many different manners, none of which I 
 liked as well as your own.' 
 
 ' But, my dear mother, why did you not 
 tell me of these things,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Because, my dear, they changed so quick- 
 ly that there was no danger of their becom- 
 ing habitual ; I left you to try your own lit- 
 
ROSAMOND. 71 
 
 tie experiments, trusting to your good sense 
 and good taste to find out and settle at last, 
 that what is natural in manner is best.' 
 
 1 But a word or two, a hint from you, moth- 
 er, would have saved me all this ! And 
 would not it have been better'?' 
 
 ' No, my dear, I think not ; I saw what 
 was going on between you and Godfrey, and 
 I was willing that you should hear his opin- 
 ion — this was for so much experience. A 
 little of his raillery, I knew would be of more 
 service than a great deal of my grave advice. 
 Frequent advice and remonstrance to young 
 people, about their manners, is apt to do more 
 harm than good.' 
 
 1 Yes ; even I said a little too much, and 
 gave a little too much good advice, you see,' 
 said Godfrey ; ' I made her feel awkward.' 
 
 ' I am very glad, Godfrey, that you per- 
 ceive this,' continued his mother. ' It is of 
 the greatest consequence to your sister, that 
 she should not become constrained in the com- 
 pany of her own family and best friends, not 
 merely because this would make them disa- 
 greeable to her, but because it might lessen 
 the candor and openness of her character.' 
 
 ' Very true,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Very true indeed,' said Godfrey; ' I know 
 I went too far, and I will not do it again. 
 Now, father, shall we go to the riding house, 
 for it is almost time ; I want to show you 
 how well I can sit Curvette to-day.' 
 
 1 Stay, my boy,' said his father, ' your sis- 
 
72 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ter looks as if she had something more to 
 say.' 
 
 1 More ! ' said Godfrey. 
 
 1 Only one thing more ; I wish, father, be- 
 fore we go, that you, and mother, and all of 
 you, would fix upon some person whom you 
 would wish that I should be like ; though I 
 must not imitate parts of different manners 
 not suited to me, I may fix upon one model 
 for imitation surely. You know you hear 
 people say to their daughters, Make such a 
 person your model ; now, mother, give me a 
 model. If Laura was out of the room. I 
 should say — somebody. Who would you 
 say, mother?' 
 
 ; I should say nobody, my dear,' replied 
 her mother. 
 
 ' And I should say the same,' said her father. 
 
 1 Indeed ! but then how can / form my 
 manners ? ' cried Rosamond. ' I hear people 
 continually talking of forming the manners. 
 Now I really do not exactly know what is 
 meant by a manner, mother, nor how to set 
 about to acquire it.' 
 
 ' I might almost venture to assert.' said her 
 father, ' that those who have the best man- 
 ners have no manner at all. To form your 
 own, my dear, without making any one par- 
 ticular person your model, observe all those 
 who have the most amiable and agreeable 
 manners; try to find out the cause, the prin- 
 ciple, on which their power of pleasing de- 
 pends, and this you may apply to your own 
 
ROSAMOND. 73 
 
 use. Imperceptibly, involuntarily, without 
 conscious imitation of any particular person, 
 you will acquire that air and manner which 
 is common to well-bred people. It has been 
 said, and truly, that good-breeding is the re- 
 sult of good-nature and good sense. Be at- 
 tentive to others, and good-natured, and you 
 will not fail to please. When you see more 
 of the world, observe, and you will find that, 
 in the higher and in the highest ranks, those 
 who have the most agreeable manners, and 
 the manners most admired by the best judges, 
 are perfectly free from affectation.' 
 
 ' Quite above it,' said Orlando. ' In all 
 ranks of life, those who have strong minds, 
 those who depend upon themselves, and who 
 do not want on every trifling occasion the ap- 
 plause of others, are never affected. You 
 generally see weakness, vanity, and affecta- 
 tion all go together.' 
 
 ' Generally, but not always,' said Laura. 
 
 I Affectation and humility sometimes go to- 
 gether ; those, as you say, who have not suffi- 
 cient dependence on themselves, are apt to 
 lean on the opinions of others, and to affect 
 any manner which they think more pleasing 
 than their own.' 
 
 ' From this time forward,' said Rosamond, 
 
 I I am determined that neither humility nor 
 vanity shall ever make me affected again as 
 long as I live; and thank you, father, for 
 staying from your ride, and assisting me to 
 
74 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 go to the bottom of the business, and for e& 
 plaining all the reasons.' 
 
 { My dear Rosamond, you may now depend 
 more securely on your good resolution against 
 affectation, since your understanding is really 
 convinced of its folly, than if you were only 
 afraid of Godfrey's ridicule, or of Orlando's 
 contempt ; your brothers will not be always 
 with you, or some other influence may some- 
 times rival theirs ; but the conviction of your 
 understanding will be always with you, and 
 must ever last the same.' 
 
 ' But Godfrey did me a great deal of good 
 too,' said Rosamond, 'though it was a little 
 disagreeable at the time.' 
 
 1 You are the best tempered, as well as best 
 natured sister in the world,' said Godfrey. 
 1 So come all of you and see me sit Curvette. 
 And, Rosamond, I promise you,' added he, in 
 a whisper, ' there shall be an end with me 
 for ever of A shape and a face, and odious 
 Beauty's Goddess.' 
 
 ' And I promise you,' said Rosamond, 'there 
 shall be an end with me for ever of Airs and 
 Graces.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 75 
 
 THE NINE DAYS' WONDER. 
 
 * T AUGH on ! laugh on, Rosamond ! ' cried 
 
 J-^ Godfrey ; ' why not laugh in this world 
 at every thing and every body that is ridicu- 
 lous?'' * 
 
 ' But O, my dear Godfrey ! I must not 
 laugh at my friends f said Rosamond, check- 
 ing herself, as she was beginning to mimic an 
 elderly lady, who had been very kind to her. 
 
 Laura, who was present, looked up from 
 her drawing with a countenance which plain- 
 ly said, ' Right, Rosamond ! ' and which al- 
 most as plainly implied, ' Wrong, Godfrey.' 
 
 Godfrey, a little piqued, immediately made 
 a low bow, with mock solemnity, to Laura, 
 and said, ' I submit with all due deference to 
 the Lady Laura Grave-airs, who is Propriety 
 personified, with a camel's hair pencil in her 
 mouth ! ' 
 
 1 You shall not make me laugh, Godfrey, I 
 assure you,' said Rosamond, ' either at Lau- 
 ra, or at my friend Mrs. Egerton.' 
 
 ' As you please, my dear ; be as grave and 
 as stupid as you please, by way of becoming 
 very good. But pray, Rosamond, now I re- 
 collect,' continued he, ' is not this grand Mrs. 
 Egerton the lady of the black bonnet, the very 
 woman you took such a dislike to, once upon 
 a time, because she had a pinch in her black 
 bonnet ') ' 
 
76 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 That was when I was a child, quite, 1 said 
 Rosamond. 
 
 ' O ! and now you are a woman, quite ! ' 
 replied Godfrey, ' and a lady, quite ; the Lady 
 Rosamond Grave-airs, who is trying to prim 
 up her mouth, and look like that model of 
 perfection — the Lady Laura. Let me try 
 now if I can please you, ladies. I will prac- 
 tise in this glass. Now, Rosamond, is this 
 right ? No — I am afraid it is not quite the 
 thing yet ; I cannot keep the corners of my 
 mouth down to the true Grave-air point. 
 Stay, now I have Laura's mouth — look ! ' 
 
 i I will not laugh,' repeated Rosamond. 
 
 1 What ! not when I choose to make you 
 laugh ? ' said Godfrey. ' I defy you to keep 
 your countenance — I see it giving way al- 
 ready. I will be bound that, before I have 
 done, I will make you laugh at old Mrs. 
 Pinch-bonnet and her wiggy brother.' 
 
 ' Never, never, Godfrey,' insisted Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' We shall see,' continued he, following her 
 up and down the room, making some ridicu- 
 lous old woman's face, while Rosamond, re- 
 solving to avoid looking at him, went in 
 search of her music books, opened the piano- 
 forte, and began to play the Duke of Welling- 
 ton's march ; the full band prevented hei 
 from hearing any thing more that Godfrey 
 was saying ; but when she paused for an in- 
 stant, to turn over the leaf, Godfrey coughed 
 so like old Mrs. Egerton. and turned over the 
 
ROSAMOND. 77 
 
 leaf for her, with a 'Very well indeed, my 
 dear Miss Rosamond,' said in a voice so like 
 Dr. Egerton's that Rosamond could scarcely 
 keep to her resolution ; feeling this, she sud- 
 denly rose and run out of the room. 
 
 ' Victory ! victory ! ' cried Godfrey. 1 1 like 
 her daring to tell me that she would not laugh, 
 when I chose to make her laugh. Victory ! 
 victory ! victory ! Acknowledge that I have 
 won the victory. Laura ; acknowledge it.' 
 
 ' No — the victory is Rosamond's, I think,' 
 said Laura. 
 
 1 So it seems, in truth, by her running 
 away,' replied Godfrey. ' No, no, it is clear 
 that I remain master of the field, so I am sat- 
 isfied ; and I can assure you, Laura, once for 
 all, that I will never give up my power over 
 Rosamond's risible muscles. I know little, 
 and care nothing about these Egertons,' con- 
 tinued he ; ' but I am tired of hearing of their 
 excellences ; and besides, I own, I think Rosa- 
 mond gives up too much of her time, during 
 my holidays, to them ; I think her wrong 
 there ; and so, with your leave, my dear, on 
 your own principles, I shall do right to laugh 
 her out of that; I shall do my best, depend 
 upon it, to laugh her out of her love and rev- 
 erence for their excellences.' 
 
 ' No, no, you will not do that, I think,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 1 We shall see,' said Godfrey. ' Do you 
 defy me ? ' 
 
 1 I do not defy you,' said Laura, ' for I 
 
78 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 know that would be the way to provoke you 
 to make the trial ; but the truth is, my dear 
 Godfrey, that I have too good an opinion of 
 you to believe that you would do this, even 
 if you could ; and I have too good an opinion 
 of Rosamond to think you could if you would.' 
 
 ' Finely said ! only too great a jingle of 
 goods, coulds, and ivoulds, my eloquent sister 
 Antithesis,' said Godfrey. ' And as to the 
 plain matter of fact, my dear, your good 
 opinion of Rosamond and of me is, I have a 
 notion, equally ill-founded, as I shall have 
 the honor of proving to you before a week be 
 at an end. Pray what is to-day — Wednes- 
 day. Then I have just nine days left of my 
 holidays, and to-morrow I begin my opera- 
 tions. But you will keep my counsel? You 
 will not give her warning 1 ' 
 
 1 1 am not of your counsel ; I will certainly 
 give her warning,' said Laura. 
 
 ' That's not fair,' said Godfrey ; ' but do so 
 and welcome ; so sure of my game am I, that 
 I will give you up the first move, only let us 
 settle what we shall acknowledge to be game. 
 Let me see — Rosamond plagues me by going 
 every morning, at some regular time — which 
 by the by I hate — to her dear Mrs. Pinch- 
 bonnet, to do something or other with her, 
 or for her, I don't know what ; and, when I 
 remonstrated yesterday, Rosamond had the 
 assurance to tell me, with an emphatic nod of 
 her dear little impertinent head, that she 
 would never give up that hour to me — ' 
 
ROSAMOND. 79 
 
 ' And I do not think she will,' said Laura. 
 
 1 Then this shall be my point,' said God- 
 frey ; ' if I make her give it up, I have the vic- 
 tory. O, rare diversion I shall have at any 
 rate ! A fine trial of skill ! A fair trial of 
 my power ; and if against yours, my dear 
 Laura, so much the better ! so much more 
 glorious the victory ! If you will, I'll give 
 you leave to call it the nine days' wonder ; so 
 good-morning to you. At Rosamond's ap- 
 pointed hour, to-morrow, I'll meet you and 
 her, tongue to tongue, and my motto shall be, 
 
 Let those laugh now who never laughed before, 
 
 Let those who always laugh'd, now laugh the more.' 
 
 At Rosamond's appointed hour, as Godfrey 
 called it, she was in the habit of going regu- 
 larly to read to her old friend, Mrs. Egerton, 
 who was confined to her room by rheumatism; 
 she had so much lost her hearing, that she 
 was obliged to use a trumpet in common con- 
 versation; but there were some voices, to 
 which she had been long accustomed, and 
 some persons who spoke very distinctly, and 
 who had the art of pitching their voice so as 
 to suit her ear so well as to prevent the 
 necessity of using her trumpet. Of this 
 number was Rosamond, whose voice was 
 peculiarly pleasing to her, as she could hear it 
 when it was not raised above the usual tone 
 of conversation. Rosamond read aloud very 
 well. Mrs. Egerton, who had a strong and 
 lively taste for the pleasure of reading, and a 
 
80 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 quick and grateful feeling of any attention 
 and kindness from her friends, especially from 
 Rosamond, of whom she was excessively fond 
 enjoyed so much that time of the day, when 
 Rosamond read to her, that she called it her 
 happy hour. She looked forward to it, as she 
 said, when she lay awake in the night, or 
 when she wakened in the morning, it was her 
 first pleasant idea. Rosamond, to whom Mrs. 
 Egerton had shown constant kindness, ever 
 since their first acquaintance in the days of 
 the India Cabinet, was delighted to have this 
 opportunity of showing her gratitude, and of 
 contributing to her old friend's daily comfort. 
 
ROSAMOND. 81 
 
 Mrs. Egerton had this season taken a house 
 so near to that in which Rosamond lived, and 
 so situated that she could pass and repass 
 through the green park in a few minutes at 
 any time, without the difficulties which in 
 town usually attend the exits and entrances 
 of young ladies. Her mother had given her 
 leave to go to Mrs. Egerton's constantly, pro- 
 vided always that she should he punctual to 
 the hour, when a servant was appointed to 
 attend her ; but it was a rule that, if she were 
 not ready at that moment, she was not to go 
 at any other time of the day, and then her 
 old friend missed, for that day, her happy 
 hour. Gratitude, and the pleasure of giving 
 pleasure, had been sufficiently powerful to 
 make Rosamond, what all who knew her 
 once despaired of her ever being, very punc- 
 tual. She was now reading Waverly to her 
 friend ; and, as she had a qnick ear, and had 
 caught many varieties of Scotch pronuncia- 
 tion, which she learned during a visit she 
 paid in her childhood to a friend in Scotland, 
 she could do greater justice to the admirable 
 scenes in that romance than many a more 
 experienced English reader. 
 
 It is doing necessary justice to Godfrey to 
 premise that he, having been at school for 
 some time past, knew little or nothing of the 
 kindness which Rosamond had received from 
 Mrs. Egerton, or of the progress of her friend- 
 ship. All he knew of Mrs. Egerton was from 
 a school-fellow, who was connected with her 
 
EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 family, and who happened not to like the 
 Egertons ; whether from ignorance, levity, or 
 prejudice, remains to be decided. 
 
 Though not in general more noted for 
 punctuality than was his sister Rosamond, 
 Godfrey could be exact with extraordinary 
 motive, and the next morning he appeared at 
 the appointed hour. 
 
 'So, brother!' Rosamond began, with a 
 face that promised no easy victory, and a 
 tone of voice that expressed as much indigna- 
 tion as the occasion required, ' I am to thank 
 you for the good opinion you have of me. I 
 find you think me such a poor, weak, despi- 
 cable creature, that you can by a little ridi- 
 cule laugh rne out of my friends, and out of 
 my gratitude, and out of my principles, and 
 out of my senses ; and this is the way you re- 
 turn all my love and confidence ! But do 
 your best, do your worst, I hope, I trust you 
 will find that, well as I love you, brother God- 
 frey, your power over me does not go quite so 
 far as this comes to. I am not quite such an 
 idiot, nor quite so ungrateful- if I were, I 
 should very ill deserve such friends as I have. 1 
 
 ' Meaning their Excellencys,' said Godfrey,' 
 speaking with the most provoking composure. 
 
 ' Brother, if you mean Mrs. Egerton and 
 Dr. Egerton, you may call them their excel- 
 lencys, or what you please, as long as you 
 please, you will never make them ridiculous, 
 for they are not ridiculous.* 
 
 ' Certainly, if they are not ridiculous, I 
 
KOSAMOND. 83 
 
 cannot make them ridiculous,' said Godfrey ; 
 ? that's a truth, or truism.' 
 
 ' A truth I think you'll find it,' said Rosa- 
 mond. ' With all your wit, Godfrey, there 
 is nothing like truth ; and, as the gentleman 
 who dined here yesterday said, Ridicule is 
 the test of truth.' 
 
 ' Take it the other way,' said Laura, ' as 
 my father said to him, Truth is, or ought to 
 be, the test of ridicule.' 
 
 ' O, ladies ! one at a time, for pity's sake,' 
 cried Godfrey ; ' between two such sharp 
 choppers of logic, what will become of a poor 
 blockhead like me 'I Not a chip of me will be 
 left; I must give up the point' 
 
 1 Give up ! not you,' cried Rosamond. ' O, 
 I know you too well ! We know him too 
 well; don't we, Laura? 
 
 Though arm'd in impudence, mankind he braves, 
 And meditates new cheats on all his slaves.' 
 
 ' There you do me injustice,' said Godfrey ; 
 1 all that I say is at least quite unpremedita- 
 ted. Observe, I have spoken only in reply ; 
 you had the advantage of me ; for I gave you 
 four and twenty hours, and you came upon 
 me with a sort of oration ; and a very fine one 
 it was ! full of fine sentiments and principles ; 
 with only one fault — it was rather too grand 
 for the occasion.' 
 
 ' Was itT said Rosamond ; ' I did not know 
 it was fine; I spoke just from my heart.' 
 
 ' And you went just to my heart,' said 
 
84 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Godfrey, 'by one thing about love and con- 
 fidence. O, Rosamond ! that was too serious, 
 too bitter.' 
 
 ' I did not mean to be bitter,' replied Rosa- 
 mond ; ' but I own I was a little angry at 
 your thinking me such an idiot, and so 
 changeable.' 
 
 ' And could you imagine that I think you 
 an idiot?' said Godfrey. 'There's nobody 
 living has a better opinion of your understand- 
 ing than I have. Proof positive — should I 
 argue and reason with you continually if I 
 had not ? If I did not think you my equal, 
 would there be any pleasure or any glory in 
 conquering you V 
 
 ' To be sure, there is some truth in that' 
 said Rosamond ; ' but I know, Godfrey, that 
 you think me weak.' 
 
 'If yon call being good-natured being weak,' 
 replied Godfrey, ' 1 don't deny that I think you 
 weak ; and I should be very sorry to have a 
 sister who had not this sort of feminine weak- 
 ness. I don't like women who are as strong 
 as Hercules.' 
 
 ' Not as Hercules, to be sure,' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' But strength of mind and of body are dif- 
 ferent,' said Laura; 'and surely strength of 
 mind is not unfeminine.' 
 
 ' Un pleasing, which comes to the same 
 thing,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Seriously, brother,' said Rosamond, ' do 
 you think me so easily governed by ridicule?' 
 
ROSAMOND. 85 
 
 1 Honestly, sister, I do not think that you 
 are to be touched and moved by ridicule 
 alone; nor should I like any girl who pre- 
 tends to be ridicule proof ; I would as soon 
 have her bullet proof; a woman is never call- 
 ed on to stand to be shot at, nor to stand to be 
 laughed at ; in either case she makes a woful- 
 ly awkward figure.' 
 
 ' But, Godfrey,' said Laura, ' might not she 
 be in rather a worse condition, and end by 
 being worse than an awkward figure, if she 
 could never bear to be laughed at when in 
 the right ? Then indeed she would be a poor, 
 weak, despicable creature, who could, by a 
 little ridicule, be laughed out of her principles, 
 and her gratitude, and her friends.' 
 
 ' It is time to go to Mrs. Egerton ! ' cried 
 Rosamond, suddenly starting up. ' So. good- 
 morning to you, brother.' 
 
 ' Gone, I declare ! and I am conquered ! ' 
 said Godfrey, as she left the room ; ' but it is 
 only the first day. You need not look so 
 proud and delighted, Laura; I don't value 
 losing a day.' 
 
 ' So I see,' said Laura. 
 
 The second morning, full five minutes be- 
 fore the appointed hour, Godfrey found Rosa- 
 mond with her bonnet on, and a watch upon 
 the table before, while she and Laura were 
 sitting drawing. 
 
 1 Prepared 1 see, Rosamond ! ' said Godfrey. 
 ' The combined forces drawn up ! j added he, 
 looking at Laura. ' Two to one against me, 
 
86 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 which shows that you are desperately afraid. 
 If I were you, Rosamond, I should be quite 
 ashamed to call in assistance to keep my own 
 wise and good resolutions.' 
 
 ' I did not call in any assistance,' said Ro- 
 samond. 
 
 ' Nor need she be ashamed of it, if she had,' 
 said Laura. ' Rosamond is too wise to be 
 ashamed of having the advice and assistance 
 of her friends.' 
 
 ' So I perceive,' said Godfrey, looking at 
 Rosamond, who did her very best not to ap- 
 pear out of countenance. ' But, for my part/ 
 continued Godfrey, ' I would not give the 
 ninty-ninth part of a straw for man, woman, 
 or child, who cannot keep their own good 
 resolutions, without having a flapper beside 
 them, to put them in mind of what they ought 
 to do.' 
 
 ' Do you remember, brother,' said Laura, 
 ' your wish, when you were reading that 
 story in the Adventurer, last week?' 
 
 'Not I. What wish?' said Godfrey. 'What 
 story ? ' 
 
 ' Don't you remember,' said Laura, ' when 
 you were reading the story of Amureth and 
 his ring, which always pressed his finger 
 when he was going to do any thing 
 wrong?' 
 
 ' Yes — I wished to have such a ring,' said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 ■ Well, a friend is as good as such a ring,' 
 said Rosamond ; ' for a friend is, as somebody 
 
ROSAMOND. 87 
 
 observed, a second conscience; I may call Lau- 
 ra my second conscience.'' 
 
 ' Mighty fine ! but I don't like a secondary 
 conscience ; a first conscience is, in my opin- 
 ion, a better thing,' said Godfrey. 
 
 1 You may have that too,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Too ! but I had rather have it alone,' said 
 Godfrey. ' There is something so cowardly 
 in not daring to stand alone.' 
 
 1 You are a man, and are bound to be cour- 
 ageous,' said Rosamond ; ' I am a woman, 
 and may be allowed not to be so bold.' 
 
 ' Now Laura looks so proud, and so much 
 delighted with that speech, because it is vast- 
 ly like one of her own proud humility speeches. 
 But that's not your natural character, Rosa- 
 mond, my dear, and you will never hold it 
 long ; and remember what my father said, 
 that mental affectation is worse than bodily 
 affectation.' 
 
 1 0, Godfrey, how unjust ! ' cried Rosa- 
 mond, ' to call my trying to do right, affecta- 
 tion. Now, Laura, is he not wrong?' 
 
 ' Very wrong indeed, and he knows it,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 Godfrey made no reply, but began to 
 whistle. 
 
 ' Reduced to whistling ! ' cried Rosamond. 
 * I have observed that Godfrey is always in a 
 bad way when he whistles ; he whistles for 
 want of something to say.' 
 
 In her triumph, Rosamond might perhaps 
 have forgotten to look at the watch, which 
 
88 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 lay on the table, and might not have observed 
 that the hand was within a few seconds of 
 the appointed hour, had not Laura held the 
 watch before her eyes. Immediately Rosa- 
 mond disappeared, crying, ' The second hand 
 is not yet at. the appointed hour.' 
 
 'It is good to have a second hand con- 
 science, I acknowledge,' said Godfrey, as she 
 shut the door. 
 
 ' And good to be able to pay one's-self with 
 a pun for having no conscience at all,' said 
 Laura smiling. 
 
 This pun was all Godfrey had to console 
 him for this day's failure. But what were 
 two days to him, who had seven in store ! 
 He scorned them, as a first-rate player at 
 checkers throws his men away, or seems to 
 throw them away, carelessly in the onset, 
 trusting that success in the beginning will in- 
 duce that self-confidence, which leads to ulti- 
 mate defeat. 
 
 On the third morning Rosamond was proud 
 to be alone, hoping thus to prove, as she said 
 to Godfrey, ' That she needed no second-hand 
 conscience.' 
 
 1 And pray, my dear,' said Godfrey, ' apro- 
 pos to second-hand, what is this strange ma- 
 chine that you have on the table ? ' 
 
 ' This watch, do you mean ? ' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' Aye, this huge, ugly, clumsy, warming- 
 pan of a watch ; 1 never saw such a ridiculous 
 thing in my life.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 89 
 
 1 Yon say this, brother, only because you 
 know whose it is ; let me tell you that this 
 watch is a great curiosity. You don't know 
 its value.' 
 
 • Its value, I presume, depends on its hav- 
 ing had the honor to belong to old Mrs. Pinch- 
 bonnet ; a frightful pinchbeck thing it is ." 
 
 ' Gold, not pinchbeck,'! said Rosamond ; 
 j made before pinchbeck existed ; it belonged 
 to Charles the Second, and is one of the first 
 watches that ever was made in England, and 
 it goes remarkably well.' 
 
 ' And pray where is it to go in future?' said 
 
 VOL. II. 8 
 
 
90 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Godfrey. ' Is it to go by your side, Rosa- 
 mond, or to hang round your neck in this 
 manner? my dear, its weight will strangle 
 you.' 
 
 ' Round my neck ! O no, brother.' 
 
 ' Next your heart then — this way ? an an- 
 tiquarian keepsake from dearest dear Mrs. 
 Pinchbonnet.' 
 
 ' I am not going to wear it,' said Rosamond. 
 ' The watch is not mine, I am only making a 
 case to hang it in, to stand upon the chimney- 
 piece in Dr. Egerton's study.' 
 
 ' Clock and watch, and pendule case maker 
 to the reverend Dr. Egerton,' cried Godfrey, 
 ' that is an honor indeed ! I do not wonder 
 you look so cook-a-hoop.' 
 
 ' Cook-a-hoop ! ' repeated Rosamond, with 
 cool disdain ; ' such a vulgar expression ! ' 
 
 ' Not elegant enough for Mrs. Pinchbonnet' s 
 pet, or pettish pupil,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Poor wit,' said Rosamond. 
 
 c But here is something superlatively ele- 
 gant,' cried Godfrey, looking with mock ad- 
 miration at a pendule stand, which Rosamond 
 was making ; ' is this a clock-case which I see 
 before me 1 ' 
 
 ' Brother, it is really ill-natured to laugh at 
 every thing I do,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' At every thing you do ! No, my dear,' 
 said Godfrey, ' only at every thing you do for 
 Mrs. Pinchbonnet' 
 
 \ As if there was the least wit in eternally 
 repeating Mrs. Pinchbonnet] said Rosamond 
 
 i 
 
ROSAMOND. 91 
 
 'and as if that could alter my opinion of 
 her!' 
 
 f It seems to alter your opinion of me,' said 
 Godfrey; 'and if it can produce so great an 
 effect, why not the lesser ; for I suppose you 
 don't yet love Mrs. — I must not say Pinch- 
 bonnet — quite so well as you do poor me, your 
 own flesh and blood brother, and once your 
 friend, Rosamond. Tell me, do you like 
 these curmudgeons as well as you like 
 me?' 
 
 ' Nonsense 1 you know very well; but I 
 will not answer that question ; I must how- 
 ever observe, brother, that you are quite wrong 
 to call these excellent people curmudgeons.'' 
 
 ' Why so, Rosamond 1 Excellent people 
 may be curmudgeons.' 
 
 ' No, brother; pray look in Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary, and you will find that curmudgeon 
 comes from coeurmechant, a bad heart ; now 
 nobody ever had a better heart than Mrs. Eg- 
 erton.' 
 
 ' Except dear old wiggy, her brother,' said 
 Godfrey ; ' how could you forget him, ungrate- 
 ful Rosamond ! Poor, dear, old excellentis- 
 simo wiggy ! ' 
 
 ' How can you make me laugh at such 
 nonsense ! ' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' How can I ? ' said Godfrey ; ' I really do 
 not know ; but I am right glad to see you 
 laugh once more ; for, seriously, Rosamond, 
 you are infinitely more agreeable when you 
 are your own merry self, than when you look 
 
92 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 like old Mrs. Egerton, and set up for a prim 
 Pattern-of-perfection-miss in her teens.' 
 
 ' I never set up for any pattern of perfec- 
 tion ; and I did not mean to be prim ; and 1 
 don't believe that I look like old Mrs. Eger- 
 ton,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' You don't believe you look like her ! My 
 dear, you are growing as like her as ever you 
 can stare.' 
 
 ' Stare ! but I don't stare, nor Mrs. Egerton 
 neither ; and you never used such vulgar ex- 
 pressions till lately.' 
 
 ' Translate it into what elegant terms you 
 will,' said Godfrey, ' the fact remains the 
 same ; you are growing very like your friend, 
 Mrs. Egerton.' 
 
 ' Impossible, brother ! An old lady of her 
 age ! How ridiculous ! ' 
 
 ' How ridiculous, indeed ! ' 
 
 ' But in what, or how can I be like her ? ' 
 
 ' In a hundred things ; but let me alone 
 now, Rosamond, I have no more time to talk ; 
 I want to read, really ; where is my book 7 ' 
 
 Godfrey sat down to read, and, after five 
 minutes' silence, Rosamond could not refrain 
 from saying — 
 
 1 Seriously, Godfrey, do pray tell me in 
 what I am growing like Mrs. Egerton, and 
 explain what you mean by my prim ways.' 
 
 ' My dear, pray let me alone now ; I must 
 read,' replied he, shaking off her hand from 
 his shoulder. 
 
 Rosamond was silent for some minutes, and 
 
ROSAMOND. 93 
 
 then said, ' 1 will only ask yon one quest ion^ 
 brother — were yon in earnest when you said 
 I was growing disagreeable?' 
 
 ' O, don't plague me, Rosamond,' said God- 
 frey, impatiently. 
 
 ' Plague you ! O, brother ! when you plague 
 me for ever. What can I do to please you V 
 cried Rosamond. 
 
 ' You don't want to please me,' replied 
 Godfrey. ' Go and please Mrs. Egerton.' 
 
 1 But cannot I please you both V said Ro- 
 samond ; ' I am sure I love you both.' 
 
 ' May be so, but you cannot please us both ; 
 so please yourself, I advise you ; go, it's just 
 time ; go and read to your new friend, and 
 leave me in peace to read to myself 
 
 ' Are you really serious, Godfrey ? If I 
 thought you were really serious — ' said poor 
 Rosamond. 
 
 Fortunately for her, Laura came into the 
 room at this moment, to remind her what 
 o'clock it was. 
 
 Rosamond took the bonnet, which Laura 
 put into her hand, and moved toward the 
 door, but still looked back anxiously at God- 
 frey, who, in a mock heroic tone, exclaimed, 
 
 ' I hear a voice you cannot hear, 
 Which says I must not stay ; 
 I see a hand you cannot see, 
 Which beckons me away. 
 
 And such a hand! O, such a hand! ' added he. 
 
 His emphasis recalled the idea of poor Mrs. 
 
 Egerton' s maimed hand. Rosamond put on 
 
94 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her bonnet directly, and turned away decid- 
 edly. ■ 
 
 ' O, brother ! ' said she, ' now I am certain 
 you are only acting a part to try me ; for you 
 could not, I am sure, be so cruel as to laugh 
 at bodily infirmity ; especially when you 
 know, as well as I do, how that hand was 
 burned. Thank you, Laura, for coming to 
 warn me; you are my good genius.' 
 
 ' And my evil genius,' cried Godfrey, the 
 moment Rosamond had left the room. 
 
 ' I wish, Laura, that you had staid away ; 
 you won this day for her ; if you had but staid 
 away five minutes longer, I should have gain- 
 ed my point ; Rosamond was such a fool when 
 you were away, my dear ! And she grew so 
 wise the moment you came near her ; she 
 found my tricks out directly.' 
 
 1 Yes ; and when tricks are found out you 
 know,' said Laura, ' the tricker loses his 
 power.' 
 
 ' Not at all ; Rosamond will be just such a 
 fool again, you will see — no, you will not see, 
 for it must be when you are not by ; she 
 grows in sense so prodigiously whenever you 
 come near. But if that should always be her 
 doom in life, it would be inconvenient,' said 
 Godfrey, l and very ridiculous.' 
 
 ' Ridiculous ! But, Godfrey, is that all you 
 think of, how ridiculous your friend would 
 iook?' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, my dear,' interrupted 
 Godfrey, 'but 1 have just thought of an ex- 
 
ROSAMOND. 95 
 
 cellent allusion. Did you ever know that 
 Venus was frightened, when she found-*Cupid 
 never grew ; and she complained to old Ju- 
 piter, and asked what she should do to make 
 him grow ; and Jupiter, or Minerva, or some 
 of the wise ones, told her that her boy should 
 never grow till he had a brother ; so, present- 
 ly he had a brother, and Anteros was his 
 name, as much wiser than Cupid as you are 
 wiser than Rosamond, my dear ; and the gods 
 ordained that, whenever Anteros should come 
 near Cupid, Cupid should grow up ; but, 
 whenever Anteros should go away, Cupid 
 should sink down again ; so he ended by be- 
 ing the little fellow he is. Just as Rosamond 
 grows in sense when Laura conies near, and 
 sinks down again when Laura goes away. 
 O, a capital allusion ! if I could but make it 
 out neatly ; Folliot Brown shall do it for me ; 
 and it pays me for losing my day. Tremble 
 for to-morrow ! — you see I am no fool. Trem- 
 ble, guardian angels all ! ' 
 
 The morning of the fourth day came, and 
 Godfrey this day began, not with How ridic- 
 ulous, but with l How beautiful ! My dear 
 Laura ! my dear Rosamond ! How beauti- 
 fully you have done this drawing ! which of 
 you did it?' 
 
 ' It is Laura's drawing for my pendule- 
 case,' said Rosamond. ' It is to be in a tablet 
 at the bottom; won't it be beautiful? It is 
 Guido's Aurora and the dancing Hours ; has 
 
96 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 not Laura diminished them well from that 
 large engraving?' 
 
 ' Admirably, indeed ! But what are these 
 little winged creatures in the circle above V 
 
 ' Those are the Minutes, the little winged 
 Minutes flying away; and the motto,' contin- 
 ued Rosamond, eagerly, ' the motto is mine, 
 Franklin's I mean, but of my choosing for the 
 clock-case ; pray listen to the motto, Godfrey, 
 - — Take care of the minutes, and the hours 
 will take care of themselves.' 
 
 Godfrey admired the motto, and went on ad- 
 miring every thing that was shown to him, till 
 he so far succeeded in engaging the attention 
 of both the pleased artists, that he flattered 
 himself they would take care neither of the 
 minutes nor the hours. But, even in the midst 
 of a compliment he was paying to Laura's 
 Apollo and to the ease with which he held 
 the reins, Laura, faithful to her charge, point- 
 ed to the watch, and reminded Rosamond 
 that it was time to depart. 
 
 1 But surely she is not tied to a minute, 
 more or less,' said Godfrey ; ' don't drive her 
 away yet, time enough yet ; stay, Rosamond, 
 don't take your portfolio away, I have not 
 half looked it over.' 
 
 ' There's my portfolio,' said Rosamond, 
 ( keep it as long as you please ; but I must go, 
 my dear Godfrey ; I must be punctual ; Mrs. 
 Egerton likes it; and, as mother says, when 
 we do any thing for our friends, we should 
 take care to do it in the way which they like.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 97 
 
 c Ay, do it then in the way Mrs. Egerton 
 likes,' cried Godfrey, then really vexed. ' So 
 tiresome ! so ridiculous to hear of nothing but 
 Mrs. Egerton. I begin absolutely to hate the 
 sound of that woman's name.' 
 
 ' Because you know nothing of her, but her 
 name,' said Rosamond. ' Only come with 
 me, Godfrey, and see her ; I know that she 
 and Dr. Egerton are just such people as you 
 would like ; do come.' 
 
 ' Not I,' answered Godfrey. 'I know enough 
 of them already.' 
 
 'You! How?' 
 
 ' O, that's a secret. I know as well as if I 
 had lived with them a hundred years, what 
 they are; just people I would go a hun- 
 dred miles to avoid. Some of your mighty 
 good, precise, dull folks, who think it a prodi- 
 gious virtue to do every thing to a minute by 
 their watches and their clocks ; the very rea- 
 son I can't bear them; people who, as Folliott 
 Brown says, — 
 
 Go at set hours to dinner and prayer, 
 For dullness ever must be regular. 5 
 
 1 Bad rhyme,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' And no reason,' said Laura. 
 
 ' But are you gone?' said Godfrey, catch- 
 ing Rosamond's arm as she passed. 
 
 ' Yes, gone ; for, as there is neither rhyme 
 nor reason in what you are saying, brother,' 
 said she, ' I had better not stay any longer to 
 
 VOL. II. 9 
 
98 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 hear it, lest you should laugh at me as yoti 
 did yesterday. You see I am not so very 
 foolish to-day ; you see I have not grown 
 down again to-day. I am not ashamed to 
 take the advice of a good friend ; if I were, 
 brother, you might with justice laugh at me 
 the moment I shut the door ; and yon might 
 say, How ridiculous ! and make, or get some- 
 body else to make a fable on me. You need 
 not blush so very much ; I am not angry, be- 
 cause I am in the right. Goodbye.' 
 
 Godfrey stood for a moment silent and 
 ashamed, but, recovering himself, he blamed 
 Laura. ' This is not fair, Laura,' said he, 
 to repeat what I said.' 
 
 1 Perfectly fair,' said Laura. £ Recollect, I 
 gave you warning from the beginning that I 
 should do so.' 
 
 ' O, that I had kept my fable and my wit 
 to myself,' cried Godfrey. ' But it is good to 
 have such a skilful enemy ; many a man, as 
 some great general said, has learned how to 
 conquer by being defeated.' 
 
 ' You are in a fair way to victory then,' 
 said Laura. 
 
 The next morning, the fifth day of trial, 
 Godfrey did not come till Rosamond began to 
 think be would not make his appearance at 
 all. He burst into the room exclaiming, The 
 Panorama of Athens ! Orlando and I are go- 
 ing to it ! ' 
 
 ' Are you, indeed ? ' said Rosamond. 
 
 1 Yes ; and mother says you may go 
 
ROSAMOND. 99 
 
 with us, Rosamond ; so come — on with your 
 bonnet.' 
 
 ' But, 5 said Rosamond, drawing back, ' I 
 cannot go now ; cannot you be so kind as to 
 go one hour later?' 
 
 ' No ; now or never,' said Godfrey. 
 
 * It mast be never for me, then,' said Rosa- 
 mond, sorrowfully, ' for I cannot break my 
 resolution ; in five minutes it will be my hour 
 for Mrs. Egerton.' 
 
 1 Nonsense, child ! would you really give 
 up seeing Athens 1 Consider what it is to see 
 Athens ! Very different from seeing London,' 
 continued Godfrey, chucking her under the 
 chin, as she stood with a face of deep consid- 
 eration ; ' would you give up seeing Athens 
 for the sake of going at an appointed hour to 
 read Scotch, which you can't read, to an old 
 woman who can't hear ? How ridiculous! 
 and how people continually mistake their own 
 motives, and sacrifice to vanity when they 
 fancy they are sacrificing to friendship, and 
 virtue, and generosity, and all that. How 
 very ridiculous !' 
 
 Rosamond colored ; but, after a look at 
 Laura, answered, with composure, ' Laugh 
 on, laugh on, brother; I can bear to be laugh- 
 ed at. When I know I am right, Godfrey. 
 even your ridicule can do me no harm ; can 
 it, Laura'?' 
 
 ( Then,' said Godfrey, ' I may laugh on 
 with a safe conscience ; thank you, Rosa- 
 mond, but I have no time for it now. 
 
100 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Hark ! Orlando calls ; decide, Egerton or 
 Athens. 
 
 ' I cannot go with you, Godfrey,' said Rosa- 
 mond, ' if you must go now.' 
 
 'I must; goodbye,' said he, going to the 
 door. 
 
 ' Goodbye,' said Rosamond. He went out 
 of the room, but, holding the door half open, 
 put his head back again, looking at her for 
 her last words. 
 
 ' Goodbye,' repeated Rosamond, steadily. 
 
 ' How ridiculous ! ' cried he ; and, clapping 
 to the door, he run down stairs. 
 
 ' Victory over myself ! ' cried Rosamond, 
 ' and the hardest fought battle I have had 
 yet,' added she, turning to Laura, who con- 
 gratulated her with looks of affectionate ap- 
 probation ; and, suppressing a sigh for Athens, 
 she went to her old friend. So ended her fifth 
 day's trial. 
 
 At dinner, when they next met, Godfrey 
 was loud in the praises of the Panorama; 
 and Orlando, and his father, and mother, ex- 
 pressed surprise that Rosamond did not ac- 
 cept of the invitation to go with her brothers. 
 Rosamond, when her mother questioned her, 
 said, ' I will tell you all, mother, at the end 
 of four days more ; don't ask me till then. 
 Trust me, mother ; trust me, father ; trust 
 me, Orlando ; I have a good reason. It is a 
 trial of power between Godfrey and me.' 
 
 ' Very well, my dear, I will ask no more,' 
 said her mother, ' till you choose to tell me 
 
ROSAMOND. 101 
 
 more, only remember, trials of power are dan- 
 gerous things between friends. 5 
 
 ' The very words that Laura said when 
 I was going to sleep last night,' cried Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 1 But it is no wager, mother,' said Godfrey. 
 
 { And since we have begun, do pray let us 
 go through with it, mother, if you please,' 
 said Rosamond. ' Because, my dear mother, 
 you must know that I have won five days, 
 that is, I have stood steady five days, and I 
 have only four days more of trial, and it will 
 be a victory over myself; and that, you know, 
 both father and you like V 
 
 1 Divert yourselves your own way, my 
 children,' said her father. ' I trust to you, 
 and do not wish to know your little secrets, 
 nor to meddle with all your little affairs.' 
 
 Godfrey, perceiving that it had cost Rosa-, 
 mond much to give up the Panorama of Ath- 
 ens, and that she had particularly felt the rid- 
 icule he had thrown upon this sacrifice, judg- 
 ed it best to pursue the same mode of attack 
 on the morning of the sixth day's trial. In 
 one half of this judgment he was right, the 
 other half was wrong. The giving Rosa- 
 mond an opportunity of making a sacrifice 
 for a friend was the way to attach, instead of 
 detaching her from that friend. But, on the 
 other hand, there was the chance that the 
 ridicule thrown on the sacrifice might make 
 her give it up as worthless. 
 
 ' Well, Rosamond,' cried he, ' I hope you 
 
102 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 will accompany us to-day ; we are going to a 
 better thing than the Panorama of Athens.' 
 
 ' Better ! what can that be? Better,' said 
 Rosamond, ' than the Panorama of Athens ! ' 
 
 ' Athens itself,' replied Godfrey. ' What 
 do you think of the Elgin marbles l We are 
 going to the British Museum, and you may 
 come with us if you will give up your non- 
 sense.'' 
 
 ' 1 cannot. Godfrey, give up going to Mrs. 
 Egerton ; yet perhaps I can change the hour, 
 and go to her before we set out, or after we 
 return.' 
 
 Godfrey, seeing her ready to give up so 
 much, thought he could now gain his whole 
 point. 
 
 ' No, no,' said he, l changing the hour will 
 not do, Rosamond ; all or nothing ; we must 
 have the whole day for the Museum, we must 
 go as early as possible ; so take your choice, 
 Elgin marbles or Pinchbonnet ! Come, don't 
 be ridiculous ! ' 
 
 1 Nothing very ridiculous in keeping my 
 resolution,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Very ridiculous, if it be a ridiculous reso- 
 lution,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' But there's the point to be decided,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 ' Aye,,_j there is the point,' said Godfrey. 
 ' Well, ^acknowledge Rosamond is quite sub- 
 lime in giving up the Elgin marbles ; superior 
 in friendship to Achilles himself; for he sac- 
 rificed only a hundred oxen, or a hundred 
 
ROSAMOND. 103 
 
 swine, to his beloved Patroclus ; but Rosa- 
 mond sacrifices a hecatomb of gods and demi- 
 gods to her dearly beloved Mrs. Pinchbonnet. 
 I must tell this to Folliott Brown.' 
 
 Rosamond laughed, but, with a little mix- 
 ture of shame in her laughter, she asked, 
 ' Pray who is Folliott Brown?' 
 
 ' The cleverest young man I know,' replied 
 Godfrey ; ' the best of classical scholars, the 
 best quizzer, and the greatest lover of fun.' 
 
 ' Fun ! quizzer ! I hate those school-boy 
 words,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' You mean that you hate to be quizzed,' 
 said Godfrey. ' Then take care if ever you 
 see Folliott Brown, and don't let him get to 
 your ridiculous side, my dear, for no mortal 
 can seize it better. Quizzing is his delight.' 
 
 ' You know father hates quizzing,' said 
 Rosamond, ' and it is very vulgar.' 
 
 1 Very likely ; but Folliott Brown is very 
 fashionable ; and I know if he were to get 
 hold of it he would enjoy your classical sac- 
 rifice to friendship most amazingly ; just the 
 thing for him ! So if you don't go with us to 
 the Elgin marbles, he shall have it, my dear 
 sister.' 
 
 ' Very kind indeed to your dear sister, to 
 make her your sport and your butt with your 
 friends,' said Rosamond, evidently much dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 ' But did not my dear sister tell me to laugh 
 on, and that she could bear to be laughed at?' 
 
 ' And so I can, and so I will,' cried Rosa- 
 
104 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 mond ; ' but all I say is, that it is not very 
 kind, Godfrey.' 
 
 ' Come, come, my dear little Rosamond,' 
 said he in a coaxing tone, ' don't let that old 
 witch of Egerton, worse than the witch of 
 Endor, make us quarrel about nothing. Give 
 up the point in a gracious, graceful, feminine 
 way, and be my own dear Rosamond. You'll 
 come with me then to the Elgin marbles ! 
 Yes, and write an apology to Mrs. Pinchbon- 
 net.' 
 
 Rosamond shook her head. 
 
 ' But consider, these are my holidays,' con- 
 tinued Godfrey ; ' and surely, Rosamond, you 
 ought to indulge me with your company.' 
 
 ' O, Godfrey, how you try persuasion, when 
 you see that ridicule will not do,' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 Godfrey could not refrain from smiling. 
 
 1 But, after all,' said he, ' what an abomin- 
 able selfish creature this precious old Pinch- 
 bonnet must be, not to give up her little 
 amusement to your great pleasure.' 
 
 ' There you are quite mistaken,' said Rosa- 
 mond ; ' for, when Laura told her that I had 
 given up the Panorama of Athens, she was 
 exceedingly sorry, and she begged me not to 
 come to her again during your holidays ; she 
 said she could not bear to take me from you. 
 But I told her that it was easy to arrange 
 matters, so that I should lose none of your 
 company, because I could always go to her 
 at the time when you are busy at your Latin 
 
ROSAMOND. 105 
 
 and Greek. You know that you must be at 
 least an hour a day at your studies ; and, if 
 you will tell me your hour, Godfrey, we can 
 settle it so, and all will be right, and I can go 
 to the Elgin marbles, if you please.' 
 
 ' That will never do,' said Godfrey ; ' for 
 I like to have my Latin hour at night, when 
 I go up to bed, and then I lose nothing by 
 day.' 
 
 ' But I cannot go to Mrs. Egerton at night,' 
 said Rosamond. 
 
 ' So I say; therefore you must give it up,' 
 said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Who is selfish now, Godfrey ? ' said Laura. 
 ' You fix your hour at night that you may 
 lose nothing ; yet you will not give up any 
 thing for Rosamond, or for Mrs. Egerton's 
 pleasure.' 
 
 ' Why should I give up any thing to Mrs. 
 Egerton ? She is not my friend, I am sure,' 
 replied Godfrey. 
 
 1 But I am your friend, I hope,' said Rosa- 
 mond ; ' and yet you will not do this for me '1 
 But you are only trying your power over me, 
 brother; and all you want is to gain your 
 point' 
 
 ' Rosamond,' cried Godfrey, ' you really 
 are growing too cunning, too suspicious.' 
 
 ' If I am growing a little suspicious, I know 
 who has made me so,' replied Rosamond. 
 'Deceiving, even in play, or trying to deceive, 
 makes one suspicious ; you know, Godfrey, 
 the speech of your own favorite, Achilles : — 
 
106 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 But once deceiv'd was his, but twice were mine.' 
 
 Godfrey felt the force of these words, and 
 stood for minute silent ; then turning upon 
 his heel, said, ' I've begun with it, and I'll 
 go through with it ; I will not give up.' 
 
 During the remainder of this day, and of 
 the next, Godfrey never recurred to the sub- 
 ject, never mentioned the name of Mrs. Eger- 
 ton, nor made the slightest attempt to prevent 
 Rosamond, either by ridicule or persuasion, 
 from adhering to her resolution. But wheth- 
 er this proceeded from forgetfulness or design, 
 from his wish to lull Rosamond's caution to 
 sleep, or from repenting of his having engag- 
 ed in a trial unworthy of him ; whether, in 
 fact, his thoughts were taken up with his 
 friend Folliott Brown, with whom he spent 
 the morning of the seventh day, are historic 
 doubts not easy to solve. 
 
 Laura could not believe that Godfrey had 
 given up his point, and this was very provok- 
 ing to Rosamond. 
 
 ' Consider,' said Rosamond, ' there are but 
 two days more to come of my trial ; I may 
 surely look back on the hardest part, and 
 laugh. Besides, you see, Laura, that God- 
 frey's head has turned quite to other things ; 
 he can think of nothing now but his friend 
 Folliott Brown, and those lines he has writ- 
 ten — The Parguinote's Farewell to his Coun- 
 try — which, by the bye, are beautiful. Folli- 
 ott Brown must be a young man of great 
 
ROSAMOND. 107 
 
 genius and feeling ; and, besides, he says the 
 Foliiott Browns are all very fashionable. I 
 am so glad we shall meet all the Browns at 
 Monsieur Deschamp's ball to-morrow. God- 
 frey,' continued Rosamond, ' really thinks 
 that nothing is right or fashionable bat what 
 they say or do ; and that every thing is wrong 
 and ridiculous that they laugh at. How very 
 full poor Godfrey's head is of these Foliiott 
 Browns ! ' 
 
 1 And I think he has filled your head with 
 them too, has he not, Rosamond'?' said her 
 mother, who came into the room while Rosa- 
 mond was finishing this speech. 
 
 1 No, mother, not at all,' said Rosamond ; 
 c you don't know all I am thinking of; I am 
 only curious to know whether Godfrey has 
 really given up a certain trial of power.' 
 
 The next time she saw him, she said, in a 
 secure tone, ' Godfrey, do you recollect ? 
 There are only two days more to come ! ' 
 
 He was silent, but he had not his trium- 
 phant look. 
 
 Godfrey's father remarked that his son had 
 of late constantly used the words fashionable 
 and right, as if they meant always one and 
 the same thing ; and observed that Godfrey 
 continually spoke of his friend, Foliiott 
 Brown, as if Tfe were the supreme judge of 
 taste, and manners, and morals, and litera- 
 ture. It happened that, just after his father 
 had been rallying him on this subject, and 
 before he had well recovered from the sur- 
 
108 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 prise he felt at hearing Folliott Brown's in 
 fallibility questioned, Rosamond came into 
 the room, and, not knowing what had passed, 
 increased his vexation by whispering, ' Re- 
 member, brother, this is the last day but one.' 
 
 1 The ides of March are come, but not past, 
 Rosamond ! ' said Godfrey. 
 
 Alarmed by this speech, she prepared for 
 some new attack ; but nothing was said, till, 
 just as she was setting out for Mrs. Egorton's, 
 Godfrey exclaimed, ' Surely, Rosamond, on 
 such a day as this, on the day of the dancing- 
 master's ball, when you must have so much 
 to do and to think of for yourself, you cannot 
 be so very kind to your old friend, Mrs. Eg- 
 erton, as to give up an hour, a whole hour, to 
 her?' 
 
 ' Yes, but I can, and I shall, as you will 
 see,' said Rosamond, leaving the room with 
 dignity. 
 
 ' Magnanimously said ! Magnanimously 
 looked ! Magnanimously done ! ' cried God- 
 frey, turning to Laura. ' But, as we have 
 been told, you know, there is but one step 
 between the sublime and the ridiculous.' 
 
 ' And, as we may know, without being 
 told,' answered Laura ; ' it depends upon 
 every body's own sense, whether they will 
 take that step or not.' 
 
 ' What steps people take, do not always 
 depend upon their own sense, nor upon the 
 sense of their friends,' retorted Godfrey. ' We 
 shall see, we shall see; I don't ask you now, 
 
 
ROSAMOND. 109 
 
 my dear, not to put Rosamond on her guard, 
 because I see you can't do it. You have done 
 your best — you have done your very best ; 
 but your mistake was, my dear, you trusted 
 to reason instead of wit. How ridiculous ! 
 To a woman, and from a woman ! How ri- 
 diculous ! ' 
 
 Monsieur Deschamps' ball was delightful, 
 we will not say beyond all power, but cer- 
 tainly beyond any need of description. Many 
 of the relations of the young ladies, his pupils, 
 were there; and Godfrey accompanied his 
 sisters. Rosamond was amazingly charmed 
 with the beauty, elegance, and fashion, which 
 then, for the first time, struck her eyes, and 
 perhaps her imagination, in the persons, dress, 
 and air of the Misses Folliott Brown, and of the 
 Lady Frances Folliott Brown, their mother. 
 
 Godfrey's friend appeared also an object of 
 universal admiration ; not among the younger 
 part of the little assembly, for these Folliott 
 Brown scarcely condescended to notice ; and 
 therefore, resenting his disdain, they confess- 
 ed that they could not like, or did not under- 
 stand him ; but the mothers and matrons, who 
 presided as judges and spectators of the ball ; 
 j and the elder sisters, the grown up young 
 i ladies, those enviable, envied beings, who go 
 out, or who come out, who are in the world ; 
 j in short, who know all that is right, and all 
 that is wrong, as to dress, fashion, men, and 
 j manners, each in their coteries apart, allowed 
 | Folliott Brown to be quite charming ! Some 
 
110 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 praised his poetry, and others admired the 
 tying of his neckcloth. 
 
 In the intervals between the quadrilles, 
 Rosamond, when she sat down beside differ- 
 ent parties of young ladies, heard much that 
 was said to this purpose ; and the high opin- 
 ion, with which Godfrey had prepossessed 
 her in favor of his friend, was thus increased 
 by the voice of numbers, and still more by 
 their looks. 
 
 Mr. Folliott Brown was some years older 
 than her brother ; there was between him and 
 Godfrey all the difference of pretensions, which 
 usually appear between a school-boy of the 
 higer forms, and a young man at the univer- 
 sity. Bat former friendship attached him to 
 his school-fellow ; and Godfrey, feeling pride 
 in his notice, increased Rosamond's high 
 opinion of his talents. They were indeed 
 considerable. Nothing he said however this 
 night justified his reputation in Laura's opin- 
 ion ; but Rosamond, overawed and dazzled, 
 thought she was in the wrong when she did 
 not admire, and listened still in expectation 
 of something more. Rosamond was just at 
 that age when girls do not join in conversa- 
 tion, but when they sit modestly silent, and 
 have leisure, if they have sense, to judge of 
 what others say, and to form by choice, and 
 not by chance, their opinions of what goes on 
 in that great world, into which they have not 
 yet entered. 
 
 Mr. Folliott Brown was much too grand a 
 
ROSAMOND. Ill 
 
 person to dance at such a ball as this ; and 
 Godfrey also this night seemed to prefer talk- 
 ing to dancing. At supper, Rosamond, sep- 
 arated from Godfrey, from Laura, aod from 
 her mother, was seated at a small table with 
 the young people of her quadrille. Godfrey, 
 who had his own object in view, contrived to 
 persuade one of the young ladies near him to 
 be afraid of catching cold from the wind ol 
 some terrible window or door, and he made 
 Rosamond change places with her, declaring, 
 at the same time, that Rosamond never in her 
 life had been known 'to catch cold. She saw 
 that her brother did this on purpose to get her 
 near him and his friend, and among the Fol- 
 liott Browns, at whose table he was sitting. 
 She felt obliged to him for his good-nature, 
 smiled at the manoeuvre in her own favor, 
 and enjoyed her situation. She found Folli- 
 ott Brown very entertaining, and she thought 
 his sisters charming, though, in truth, they 
 and their partners talked only of a number of 
 fine people, whom Rosamond had never seen 
 nor heard of; so that beforehand it might have 
 been imagined that the conversation could not 
 in any way have interested her. How it 
 happened that she was so much pleased, we 
 know not ; but so it was. Godfrey's * How 
 ridiculous ! ' perpetually recurred. From any 
 of the Folliott Browns the expression was de- 
 cisive, against any thing or person on whom 
 this sentence was thus pronounced. At length, 
 when ail had supped, and all had talked, in 
 
112 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 one of those intervals of silence, which occur 
 even among the wittiest, the wisest, and the 
 most indefatigable talkers, Godfrey took his 
 opportunity to ask his friend, whether he was 
 not related to the Egertons, to Dr. and Mrs. 
 Egerton. 
 
 ' Distantly. Thank heaven ! only distant- 
 ly,' was Folliott Brown's answer. 
 
 ' But are not they delightful people V said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 Folliott and his sisters interchanged looks, 
 which sufficiently expressed their opinions. 
 
 ' Delightful people ! How ridiculous ! Who 
 could have put that into your head?' said 
 Folliott. 
 
 I A friend of mine,' replied Godfrey. 
 Rosamond blushed ; she did not well know 
 
 why, and wished not to be named. 
 
 ' A judicious friend, no doubt,' said Folliott 
 Brown. ' But I admire his judgment more 
 than his taste. Your old tutor, may be'?' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Godfrey, laughing. ' Very 
 far from the mark ; neither a tutor, nor 
 old.' 
 
 ' Then one who has a grey head upon green 
 shoulders, it seems,' said Folliott ; ' and that, 
 to my fancy, is an unbecoming mixture.' 
 
 ' So ridiculous ! ' said one of the Misses 
 Brown. 
 
 ' So unnatural ! ' said the other. 
 
 I I like for young people to be young ; I 
 hate what you call a wise young person, don't 
 you?' said another young lady to her partner, 
 
ROSAMOND. 113 
 
 who perfectly agreed /with her, but was more 
 intent upon a glass of champagne. 
 
 ' But do you know,' continued Miss Brown, 
 1 1 have a little cousin — Helen Egerton, you 
 know, Folliott — who, by living so much with 
 old people, poor little thing, has really got 
 that sort of grey-head-upon-green-shoulders 
 look, which, as you say, is so unnatural, so 
 affected, so ridiculous ! ' 
 
 Rosamond, sitting in all the agony of con- 
 sciousness, felt as if she really had a grey 
 head on green shoulders, and as if every body 
 was looking at it. But nobody was looking 
 at her j and though what was said seemed, 
 she thought, as if aimed at her, it was in fact 
 mere random nonsense. 
 
 ( Affected ! ' said Miss Annetta Folliott 
 Brown. ' No — now really I acquit poor 
 Helen Egerton of affectation ; but some peo- 
 ple have the misfortune to have that formal, 
 wizzen old look and way, and really like to 
 be with old people. Now, for my part, I 
 think young people should always be with 
 young people.' 
 
 ' Always ! always ! always ! ' was echoed 
 round the table by all but Rosamond. 
 
 ' Nemine contradicente ! we have it,' cried 
 Folliott Brown, for Rosamond's silence was 
 perceived only by Godfrey. In this company 
 she was of too little consequence to have a 
 voice. When Folliott, looking round, again 
 repeated, ' Nemine contradicente ! I should 
 
 VOL. II. 10 
 
114 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 like to hear from ruby lips a dissentient voice, 
 she longed to speak, but dared not. ' Shak- 
 spere,' continued Folliott Brown, ' and who 
 understood the human heart and life in all its 
 ages better than Shakspere? tells us that — 
 
 Crabbed age and youth 
 Cannot live together ; 
 Youth is full of pleasance, 
 Age is full of care. 5 
 
 1 O, go on, delightful ! ' said one of the young 
 ladies. ' Such a charming old word — pleas- 
 ance ! O, go on ; I do doat so on Shakspere.' 
 
 1 I forget the rest ; I have the worst memo- 
 ry in the world,' said Folliott. ' But I know 
 it ends with — 
 
 Age, I do abhor thee ; 
 Y'outh, I do adore thee.' 
 
 1 Miss Rosamond, let me help you to some 
 grapes ; won't you take an orange?' said Miss 
 Folliott Brown, observing Rosamond's uneasy 
 look, and attributing it to displeasure at not 
 having been sufficiently attended to. 
 
 This was vexatious ; but Rosamond accept- 
 ed of the orange, and began to peel it, that 
 she might have some employment for her 
 hands and eyes. Godfrey was sorry for her ; 
 but, as he thought this his last, best chance 
 of gaining his point, he was anxious that the 
 conversation should go on. ' But pray, after 
 all, what sort of people are Mrs. Egerton and 
 Dr. Egerton?' 
 
 ' O ! I don't know,' answered Miss Folliott 
 
ROSAMOND. 115 
 
 Brown. ' Mighty good people, you know ; 
 but people one never meets, one never hears 
 of any where but in the country.' 
 
 1 Vastly too good,' said Miss Annetta ; l very 
 good family to be sure; mother's relations; 
 but old-fashioned, old people, old Manor 
 House, old-mannered people. Stupid ; just 
 what you call quizzes ! ' 
 
 ' Aye, quizzes ! ' cried Folliott. ' Quizzes, 
 bores ; and bores, you know, should be hunt- 
 ed out of society.' 
 
 ' Very good ! ' said a young lady. 
 
 ' O, the Egertons, though they are connex- 
 ions of ours, are very stupid, shockingly good, 
 quite quizzes ! ' 
 
 These sentences were repeated by the 
 Misses Brown and their brother all together 
 in chorus. Godfrey, declaring he had heard 
 quite a different description of the Egertons, 
 urged on the conversation, till all grew eager 
 in support of their opinions, and each told 
 some anecdote, that placed Mrs. Egerton, or 
 her brother, in a ridiculous point of view. 
 Rosamond was convinced that, of these anec- 
 dotes, many were absolutely false, others ex- 
 aggerated, and others no way disgraceful to 
 any human creature ; as they proved only that 
 Dr. and Mrs. Egerton were careful to do what 
 they thought right, and that they did not ap- 
 prove of folly and extravagance. Yet no one 
 circumstance was mentioned, which she could 
 absolutely say she knew to be false; and to 
 contradict the opinions of those, who were 
 
116 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 more nearly connected with the Egertons, and 
 who pretended to know them all so perfectly 
 well, required some courage. Rosamond had 
 colored and colored more deeply, and had be- 
 come so very uneasy, that her embarrassment 
 was now visible to one of the Misses Brown, 
 who sat opposite to her, and in an instant af- 
 terwards to all the company. Godfrey sud- 
 denly rose, and went round to her to pick up 
 her gloves, for which she stooped, and, in a 
 whisper, as he returned them to her, said, 
 1 Give up the point, and I'll bring you off.' 
 
 ' Never,' replied a look from Rosamond, 
 which made Godfrey not a little asham- 
 ed. 
 
 ' Suppose we were to look for my mother, 
 and Laura, they are at the other end of the 
 room,' said he; ' I've a notion it is late, and 
 lime to go.' 
 
 1 Aye ! time to go ! ' cried Folliott Brown. 
 1 You have used us abominably ! I have a 
 notion you have exposed us all to your judi- 
 cious friend.' 
 
 Rosamond rose hastily, and Godfrey pick- 
 ed up her dropped fan. 
 
 ' A very judicious friend, I grant,' pursued 
 Folliott Brown, as Godfrey drew her arm 
 within his; ' most judiciously silent.' 
 
 Rosamond resolutely stopped, as Godfrey 
 was leading her away. ' Silent only because 
 I had not the courage to speak,' said she. 
 'How I wish,' added she, commanding her 
 trembling voice, ' that I could be a judicious 
 
ROSAMOND. 117 
 
 friend ! Such a one as Mrs. Egerton has been 
 to me ! ' 
 
 All were silent for an instant. Rosamond 
 then went away with Godfrey as fast as he 
 pleased. She thought she heard from behind 
 her the sound of Hoiv ridiculous ! 
 
 1 1 know they think me very ridiculous, but 
 I don't mind that,' said she. 
 
 Godfrey made no answer. 
 
 ' O, there is Laura ! And mother I see is 
 ready to go ! I am so glad ! ' cried Rosa- 
 mond. ' Godfrey, will you come with us, or 
 will you walk home with Mr. Brown?' 
 
 Godfrey, without making any answer, run 
 to order the carriage to draw up, handed his 
 mother and sisters into it, and then asked, 
 'Can you make room for me?' 
 
 1 I thought, Godfrey,' said his mother, 'that 
 you were to walk home with your friend, Mr. 
 Folliott Brown?' 
 
 Still he made no answer, but, keeping his 
 foot on the step, seemed anxious to get into 
 the carriage ; immediately Rosamond squeez- 
 ed herself into the smallest compass possible 
 and made room for him between her and 
 Laura. The carriage door shut and they 
 drove off. After some minutes, during which 
 Laura and her mother supported the conver- 
 sation, her mother observed that they had not 
 allowed Rosamond and Godfrey time to say 
 a word ; time was now given, but no words 
 were heard from either. 
 
118 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 I Who did you dance with, Godfrey V ask- 
 ed his mother. 
 
 I I don't recollect, mother ; with two or 
 three,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Miss Annetta Brown,' said Laura, ' was 
 one of your partners, was she not?' 
 
 ' Yes, I believe so. But don't talk to me 
 of any thing but what I am thinking of,' said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 ' And how are we to find out that, my dear 
 son ! ' said his mother. 
 
 1 O, mother ! I don't deserve to be your 
 dear son to night. But here is one who does 
 deserve to be your dear daughter,' said God- 
 frey, putting Rosamond's hand into his moth- 
 er's. ' Yes, do love and esteem her, mother 
 and Laura — she deserves it well.' 
 
 ' But how is this ] Tears, Rosamond, I can 
 feel, though I don't see,' said her mother, as 
 she felt them drop on her hand. 
 
 ' Tears of my causing,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Caused by these kind words, then,' said 
 Rosamond ; ' for they never came till this 
 moment.' 
 
 ' Laura,' continued Godfrey, ' she has quite 
 conquered me ; I give up the point ; I only 
 wish I had given it up sooner, for I have been 
 wrong, very wrong ; but then she has been 
 right, very right, and that is a comfort.' 
 
 ' You are always generous and candid, 
 Godfrey,' said Rosamond, ' except — you un- 
 derstand me,' added she, ' when you want to 
 try your power. But now that is over.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 119 
 
 c Over ! yes — over for ever ! ' said Godfrey. 
 * This was much worse than Beauty's God- 
 dess, and the Airs and Graces ; there I was 
 right in the main, though wrong in going a 
 little too far ; but here 1 was, as Laura said 
 from the first, wrong in the principle, and I 
 felt it all the time. I knew you had the best 
 of the argument ; but my desire to show my 
 power over you, and to gain my point, my 
 foolish point, made me go on from one step to 
 another. I really did not mean to be so ill- 
 natured and wrong in every way as I have 
 been. But you have stood steady, and there- 
 fore I have done you no harm ; but I might 
 have done you real harm, confusing all right 
 and wrong as I did, and only to gain my 
 paltry point. But you have the victory, and 
 the best victory, as Laura would say, over 
 yourself; and I am sure, let all those people 
 say How ridiculous I a million of times over, 
 they must have admired and respected you 
 at that moment in their hearts ; not one of 
 them could have done it, or said it ; especially 
 at your age ! and when all mouths were open, 
 all their foolish mouths, and mine the most 
 foolish, the most unpardonably wrong of the 
 whole party, were against you. She has 
 stood this steadily indeed, Laura, and your 
 opinion oilier was right, I acknowledge, and 
 I am glad of it, I was quite wrong.' 
 
 1 1 shall be very glad, my dear Godfrey, 
 when I can understand the wrongs and the 
 rights clearly,' said his mother. 
 
120 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Godfrey related all that had passed during 
 the whole of this nine days' trial; and he 
 spared himself so little, and did such justice 
 to both his sisters, that his mother found it 
 impossible to be as angry with him as she 
 acknowledged that he deserved that she 
 should be. 
 
 ' There is one favor that I wish to ask from 
 you, Godfrey,' said Rosamond. 
 
 'Do not ask it, my dear,' said Godfrey; 
 c let me have the pleasure of doing it, without 
 your asking it; 1 will do it to-morrow morn- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' Then I perceive you guess what it is,' 
 said Rosamond, smiling. The next morning, 
 at the appointed hour, when Rosamond was 
 going to Mrs. Egerton's, Godfrey begged to 
 accompany her. 
 
 ' Thank you ; the very thing I wished/ 
 said Rosamond ; ' I ask you only to see, hear, 
 and judge for yourself.' 
 
 Just as they were setting out however, they 
 were stopped by a servant, who put a note 
 into Rosamond's hand from Mrs. Egerton. 
 This note requested that Rosamond would 
 not come to her this day, as some unhappy 
 circumstances had happened which must pre- 
 vent her enjoying the pleasure of seeing her 
 friend. 
 
 What these unhappy circumstances were, 
 Rosamond did not hear till long afterwards. 
 They related to the affairs of the Folliott 
 Browns, which, by the extravagance of that 
 
ROSAMOND. 121 
 
 family, began at this time to be much derang- 
 ed. The young people, who had been so 
 thoughtlessly talking the preceding night, 
 little knew that they would soon need the 
 assistance of the excellent persons, whom they 
 were endeavoring to turn into ridicule. In 
 the absolute ruin of Mr. Folliott Brown's for- 
 tune, which some months afterwards ensued, 
 when they were obliged to sell their house in 
 town, their carriages, and all that could be 
 sold of their property ; when all their fine 
 friends only said, The poor Folliott Browns, 
 I hear, are quite ruined ! quite gone ! Mrs. 
 Egerton and her brother received them kind- 
 ly, and assisted them generously. 
 
 As Godfrey observed, they had reason to 
 be glad that Rosamond was both a judicious 
 and a silent friend. 
 
 VOL. II. 11 
 
122 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 EGERTON ABBEY. 
 
 A YEAR and some months had passed 
 since Rosamond's nine days' trial, 
 which was now counted among childish 
 occurrences, or, if referred to, prefaced with, 
 Do you remember the time, of that foolish 
 trial ] or, Do you recollect, Godfrey, that 
 time, before the time of the nine days' won- 
 der, when you did not like the Egertons ; I 
 mean when you did not know the Egertons? 7 
 
 That time had long been in the preterplu- 
 perfect tense with Godfrey. It was so com- 
 pletely past, that it was with difficulty that he 
 could remember it ; and it was not only with 
 difficulty, but with some sense of shame, or 
 self-reproach, that he called it to mind. Ro- 
 samond, observing this, had kindly consigned 
 the subject, to oblivion. 
 
 Godfrey had never been at Egerton Abbey, 
 which belenged to Dr. Egerton, brother-in- 
 law to Rosamond's excellent old friend. Ro- 
 samond, who had often been there with her 
 mother, during the time that her brother had 
 been at school, was delighted with the pros- 
 pect of his accompanying them on a visit, 
 which they were now going to pay there. 
 She was eager to introduce him to a place she 
 particularly loved, and to see him enjoy the 
 company of those whom she was proud of 
 
ROSAMOND. 123 
 
 having made his friends. Godfrey, perceiv- 
 ing this, gave her the greatest pleasure, by 
 being as gay as possible on their happy jour- 
 ney to the Abbey. 
 
 It was a delightful day in Autumn. They 
 travelled in an open carriage, and through a 
 beautiful country. If the carriage had stop- 
 ped as often as Rosamond wished that it 
 should, for Laura to sketch every charming 
 picturesque view ! her drawing-book would 
 have been filled in the course of this day, and 
 they would not have arrived at the end of 
 their journey before midnight. But fortu- 
 nately, Laura's wish to reach Egerton Abbey 
 before it grew dark was gratified, as the red 
 setting sun was still shining on the top of the 
 great oak wood, and gleaming on the win- 
 dows in the western front of the Abbey, as 
 they drove up the avenue. 
 
 Godfrey was quite as much pleased with 
 the first view as Rosamond had expected, 
 and his delight was increased, even beyond 
 her hopes, when he entered the Gothic hall, 
 and followed her as she hurried him along 
 the matted cloisters, dimly lighted through 
 painted glass, to the happy library, opening 
 to a conservatory, rich, as Rosamond had 
 described it, in bloom and perfume, and on 
 which the sun always shone. The library, 
 with books and prints scattered on various 
 tables, gave evidence that people had been 
 happily employed. No one was in the room 
 when they first entered ; the family were out 
 
124 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 on the terrace, watching for the arrival of 
 their friends. A pleasing young girl soon 
 came running in eagerly to welcome Rosa- 
 mond ; this was Helen, Mrs. Egerton's grand- 
 daughter. While Mrs. Egerton, who could 
 not walk fast, was returning from the farthest 
 end of the terrace, Helen had time to tell them 
 the names of all the people who were at the 
 Abbey. Rosamond enjoyed Godfrey's look 
 of surprise and satisfaction, when he heard 
 that among the guests were two persons 
 whom he had wished particularly to see, or 
 rather to hear ; one was a celebrated traveller, 
 the other a distinguished orator and patriot. 
 The first evening at Egerton Abbey was 
 
ROSAMOND. 125 
 
 spent so happily, that, when it was time to 
 go to rest, Godfrey lingered so long in his 
 mother's apartment, talking over with Rosa- 
 mond the pleasures they had enjoyed since 
 their arrival, and the still greater pleasures 
 they anticipated for the morrow, that his 
 father was at last obliged to take him by the 
 shoulders, put him out of the room, and lodge 
 him in the turret assigned him Even then, 
 unless his father had prudently bolted his 
 own door, Godfrey would have returned, yea, 
 even at midnight, to have made him come to 
 look at something he had discovered in his 
 turret. It was Rosamond's pendule case, 
 with the flying minutes and dancing hours, 
 which he saw placed on his chimney-piece. 
 
 From the turret, in which Godfrey slept, a 
 back staircase led down to Dr. Egerton's 
 study, and one from Rosamond's turret led to 
 Mrs. Egerton's dressing-room. They had 
 each leave to go to their friends, and of this 
 happy privilege they availed themselves as 
 soon as possible. The first morning, before 
 breakfast, they were made acquainted with 
 the characters, and with all that could be en- 
 tertaining or instructive in the histories of the 
 various guests then at Egerton Abbey. These 
 judicious friends were anxious to introduce 
 them, early in life, to persons distinguished 
 for their knowledge, talents, or virtues ; to all 
 who could best, by precept and example, ex- 
 cite generous emulation, and direct useful 
 energy. 
 
126 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 It is certain that much of what was said 
 and done, during this visit, made an indelible 
 impression both on Godfrey and Rosamond ; 
 but it will not be possible for their historian 
 to do more than touch upon the principal 
 points. 
 
 The first day, at dinner, the conversation 
 turned upon Athens and the Elgin marbles, 
 and then diverged to Greece, and Turkey, 
 and Ali Pacha. Godfrey and Rosamond had 
 read and remembered enough of the Travels 
 of Holland and Clarke, to excite their interest 
 in all that was said, and to enable them to 
 follow the conversation with the double satis- 
 faction arising from the consciousness of 
 knowing a little, and the sense of learning 
 more. Though neither of them joined in the 
 conversation, their interest and attention were 
 constantly kept up ; when this agreeable trav- 
 eller said he had seen the yanar, or perpetual 
 fire, of which they had read an account in 
 Karamania ; that he had walked on the banks 
 of the Seaman der, and climbed into the pyra- 
 mids ; when he asserted that he had remained 
 long enough at Tripoli to confirm the truth of 
 the picture of that country, so well given in 
 the narrative of Mr. Tully's residence there — 
 great was their pleasure in listening ; and 
 they almost felt as if they had themselves 
 travelled over these regions. 
 
 The conversation afterwards turned upon 
 the female character and manners, and their 
 influence on the fate and happiness of nations, 
 
ROSAMOND. 127 
 
 in the Oriental and European world; and 
 many curious facts were mentioned, and 
 many allusions made, both to history and to 
 works of fiction, which kept up the lively 
 attention of the young audience. 
 
 It was particularly agreeable to Rosamond, 
 who was the youngest of the party, to feel 
 that she could take a real interest in such 
 conversation, and that the books which she 
 had read, or that she had heard read at home, 
 now came into use. Well educated, well 
 informed young people, will here recollect 
 and recognise their own feelings of delight in 
 similar circumstances. As Dr. Egerton point- 
 ed out, her pleasure arose, not only from the 
 taste she had acquired for knowledge and 
 literature, but from the feelings of sympathy 
 and domestic affection, which made every 
 subject, that was interesting to her father and 
 brothers, doubly interesting to herself. 
 
 The day after the conversation about the 
 Elgin marbles, Tweddell's Life having been 
 referred to by some of the company, his me- 
 moirs were left open on the library table, as 
 it chanced, at a part which caught Rosa- 
 mond's attention. It was the letter which 
 gives an account of the country-seat and 
 princely establishment of a certain Polish 
 Countess. It was not the charming country- 
 seat, or the princely establishment, that ex- 
 cited Rosamond's admiration, but the gener- 
 osity of this noble lady to a family of French 
 emigrants, who had, in their prosperity, shown 
 
128 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her kindness at Paris, and whom, in their ad- 
 versity, she received with splendid hospitali- 
 ty and magnificent gratitude. Rosamond, 
 delighted with this account, carried it direct- 
 ly to Mrs. Egerton, and, resting the quarto on 
 the elbow of her arm chair, read the whole 
 passage. When she had finished reading, she 
 exclaimed, ' How I wish I had been that Po- 
 lish Countess ! I wish I had such an immense 
 fortune, and such vast power; because, with- 
 out great riches, or great power, whatever 
 one may feel, it is impossible to show such 
 generosity, such gratitude ! ' 
 
 ' I allow, my dear,' replied Mrs. Egerton, 
 ' without such a fortune and power, it is im- 
 possible to show what you call magnificent 
 gratitude ; but consider that such is rarely 
 called for in the common course of life, while 
 in every condition, in yours, in mine, in every 
 class, in those far below us in fortune and 
 power, even in the very poorest, generosity or 
 gratitude, equal to that of your noble countess, 
 may be shown, if not as magnificently or as 
 usefully, at least as essentially to the happi- 
 ness of those for whom it is exercised.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so,' said Rosamond ; ' but still 
 one cannot do so much good — such grand 
 things.' 
 
 ' Not such grand things, certainly, but as 
 much good,' said Mrs. Egerton, ' on a small 
 scale. If each person in their own little way 
 does something, and if all do the best they 
 can, the numbers will in time work out as 
 
ROSAMOND. 129 
 
 much good for their fellow-creatures, more 
 perhaps than any individual can perform by 
 the greatest exertions. The effect will not, 
 I grant, be so immediately striking to the 
 young imagination, or so flattering to feelings 
 of vanity.' 
 
 ' To the young imagination ! that means to 
 me,' said Rosamond, smiling. ' But now, my 
 dear Mrs. Egerton, even with your sober 
 judgment, you would not — would you ? you 
 could not — could you ? love and value that 
 small-scale gratitude so much as the magnifi- 
 cent generosity we were talking of?' 
 
 ' I think I value it more, and love it more,' 
 said Mrs. Egerton. ' I value it more, because 
 it is useful ; I love it more, because it affects 
 the happiness of the human creatures for 
 whom I am immediately interested; and I 
 both love and value what you call small-scale 
 generosity and gratitude, because it is gener- 
 ally the effect of more real feeling, and it re- 
 quires, in its exercise and in its continuance, 
 more self-denial and self-control.' 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by 
 a summons to Rosamond to join her mother, 
 and Laura, and Godfrey, and the rest of the 
 company, who were ready to go and take a 
 long walk to the oak wood. Mrs. Egerton 
 was not able to accompany the young party 
 on these long walks; but, while they rambled 
 to their heart's content through every alley, 
 green dingle, and bushy dell, and while they 
 still more to their heart's content took always 
 
130 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 
 the most difficult path, and that which prom- 
 ised the greatest number of stiles to scramble 
 over, she was satisfied to drive on the beaten 
 road, in her low garden chair, to meet the 
 party at some favorite spot, where she joined 
 with her young friends in as much of their 
 walk as her advanced years and declining 
 strength permitted her to attempt. This 
 morning she told Helen she would meet them 
 at a certain gate leading from the high road 
 into the forest, opposite to the great scathed 
 oak. She met them there ; and, while Laura, 
 after sketching the great oak, was busy draw- 
 ing a group of peasants with their children, 
 
ROSAMOND. 131 
 
 who were pulling acorns from the boughs, 
 Mrs. Egerton took Rosamond with her clown 
 a path which led to the thickest part of the 
 glen. 
 
 i Let me lean on you, my love, and you 
 will take care of me down this steep path,' 
 said she.* ' And now, without going so far as 
 to the Ukraine, and without the power or for- 
 tune of the Polish Countess, I think I can 
 show you an example of what we may class 
 among the small-scale instances of gratitude.' 
 
 1 What a delightful path ! What a roman- 
 tic scene ! What a picturesque situation for a 
 cottage ! ' cried Rosamond, ■ I think I shall 
 finish by wishing to live in that little cottage.' 
 
 ' Stay till you see the inside of it, my dear, 
 and believe me, you will not wish to call that 
 little hut your home ; and though it is sum- 
 mer now, and this glen looks cheerful in the 
 sunshine, do not forget that winter will come. 
 You will find in the inside of that hut nothing 
 but poverty, plain, sordid poverty, without 
 any thing for picturesque effect. I found out 
 these poor people the other day by chance, 
 when I went to a straw chair-maker in the 
 village, to bespeak for the grotto what you 
 call my beehive chair. While I was there, a 
 poor girl came in with some bosses, for which 
 she waited to be paid. The moment the 
 money was put into her hand she asked for 
 fresh work, received it with thankfulness and 
 run off. The chair-maker then told me that 
 she was one of the most hardworking and 
 
132 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 best girls he ever knew, and the most grate- 
 ful creature; that, besides her day's business 
 as servant girl to a hard mistress, in the spare 
 time she secured, by sitting up late and get- 
 ting up early, she made enough by her work 
 to pay her mistress for the lodging and food 
 of a poor bedridden paralytic woman, who 
 had formerly nursed her when in distress; or, 
 as the man expressed it, had brought her 
 through the small-pox when every one else 
 fled from her. 
 
 As Mrs. Egerton finished this account they 
 reached the cottage, from whence the first 
 sound they heard was the shrill voi?e of a 
 
ROSAMOND. 133 
 
 woman, scolding. This woman, just return- 
 ed from market, with her cloak thrown back, 
 her flat black silk hat on her head, high, stiff- 
 peaked stays, white cuffs, and black mittens, 
 was standing, with arms a-kimbo, in all the 
 authority of her market-day attire, scolding a 
 slight formed, thin girl, seemingly about 
 thirteen or fourteen, who was standing before 
 her hi a submissive posture, her whole figure 
 and face quite motionless. The moment the 
 girl saw Mrs. Egerton appear at the door be- 
 hind her mistress, with a start of joy she clasp- 
 ed her hands. and came forward several steps, 
 so that Rosamond then saw her face more 
 distinctly. It was not handsome ; it was 
 marked, nay, seamed by the small-pox, ema- 
 ciated and deadly pale, except while a hectic 
 flush crossed it at the instant she first came 
 forward. Her mistress, turning abruptly as 
 they entered, began, in a softened tone, with 
 1 Sarvant, Madam Egerton.' But, as soon as 
 she saw Mrs. Egerton look kindly towards 
 the girl, her countenance again clouded over; 
 and when she went to feel Mary's pulse, and 
 asked her how she did, the mistress, in a low 
 murmur, speaking to herself, as she swung 
 aside the chair she had set for Mrs. Egerton, 
 said, ' She is well enough, if Quality would 
 not be coining to put notions into her head ; 
 strong enough too of all conscience for all my 
 work, and her own too when she pleases, as 
 she used fast enough afore she was half her 
 height, until of late days, since ever that va- 
 
134 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 gary of pretending to be weak, like a lady, 
 was pat into her silly brain.' 
 
 Gaining courage from her rekindling anger, 
 and observing that the ladies heard her, and 
 that their eyes were fixed upon her, the wo- 
 man let loose her temper, and poured forth, in 
 her natural shrill objurgatory voice, a torrent 
 of reproaches against this Mary, this object of 
 her hourly wrath. While the storm raged, 
 Mary stood as before quite still, without ever 
 raising her eyes, resolutely patient. But Ro- 
 samond observed that one spot of color, which 
 appeared high upon each thin cheek bone, 
 gradually became of a deep fixed red. 
 
 1 O, ma'am !' cried Rosamond, ' pray don't 
 scold her any more ! ' 
 
 Loud squalls of children interrupted Rosa- 
 mond. The girl quickly turning to open the 
 back door, a tribe of crying children rushed in, 
 stretching out their dirty hands, and scream- 
 ing, Mary ! Mary ! Suddenly silenced by the 
 sight of the strangers, they clung round Mary, 
 who wiped their eyes and set their rags to 
 rights. But fresh subjects of abuse now oc- 
 curred to the mistress, who railed anew a- 
 gainst Mary for standing there, as she did 
 always, while her children were breaking 
 their necks. ' No care from her of any thing 
 within or without; so you see how it is with 
 your own eyes at last, Madam Egerton ! And 
 I am glad on it.' 
 
 1 And I am glad of it too,' said Mrs. Eger- 
 
ROSAMOND. 135 
 
 ton. ' Bat pray how is the poor paralytic 
 woman to-day V 
 
 1 What, old Sarah ! Why, madam, the 
 same as usual, I do suppose. No great 
 chance, I guess, of her being better or worse. 
 And I have reason, I'm sure, to rue the day 
 she ever darkened my doors, and did not go 
 on the parish as she ought ; for, since the day 
 Mary took to tending her, and that's four 
 years come Michaelmas, I have had no ser- 
 vice out of her, to say proper service ; and she, 
 my 'prentice, regular bound, as I can show 
 you, madam,' added she, going to an old dark 
 press in the wall to rummage for papers. 
 
 ' I do not doubt it,' said Mrs. Egerton, *'and 
 we will look to that by and by : but first, can 
 we see old Sarah?' 
 
 i Yes, sure, madam ! ' cried Mary, a ray of 
 joy darting from her eyes, ' if you could but 
 cross the yard;' and, disengaging herself at 
 one motion from all the children, she threw 
 open the hatch door and disappeared. 
 
 Rosamond and Mrs. Egerton followed 
 through the litter and dirt to what was call- 
 ed the old cow house, a low hovel, of which 
 the roof was strangely propped, and the 
 thatch, black and overgrown with grass, was 
 in places curiously patched with new straw. 
 One of the children was watching for them at 
 the hovel door ; there was so little light with- 
 in that, at first entering, Rosamond could 
 scarcely see any thing, nor discern the figure 
 
136 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 of Mary standing by some sort of bed on the 
 ground, in one corner of the place. 
 
 ' Be kind enough to come closer, madam, 
 miss,' said Mary, ' she won't be startled ; I 
 come first to warn her.' 
 
 She, as Rosamond saw, when she came 
 closer to the bed, was the paralytic woman, 
 who was sitting propped up with a bundle of 
 straw against the wall behind her ; the re- 
 mains of a patch-work quilt covering her 
 lower limbs, of which she had entirely lost 
 the use. 
 
 ' But see, madam, she can move her hands 
 and arms now as well as ever, thanks be to 
 God ! ' 
 
 ' Thanks be to God ! and you, dear Mary ! ' 
 said the palsied woman, joining her hands in 
 prayer. ' Madam Egerton, there's no tongue 
 on earth can tell what that girl does, and has 
 done these four long years for me, little worth 
 that I am ! ' 
 
 ' Little I can do,' said Mary, wiping her 
 eyes and forehead with one quick motion ; 
 ' and too happy I should be could I be allow- 
 ed to do that little.' 
 
 ' O, Madam Egerton ! ' continued the sick 
 woman, ' if I had words ! if you could but 
 know all ! ' 
 
 ' If you did know all, madam,' said the 
 girl, ' then you'd know how grateful I ought 
 for to be to her who is lying there ; and so I 
 would be if I could, but I cannot ! ' 
 
 Throwing the apron over her face, Mary 
 
ROSAMOND. 137 
 
 run out into the yard, and Sarah was silent 
 for some moments, hearing her sobbing. 
 
 1 The most gratefullest girl ! ' said the palsi- 
 ed woman ; ' the most hardworkingest, grate- 
 ful soul of a poor body God ever made ! O, 
 the happy day for me, when I once nursed 
 her in sickness! That was all, madam, I ever 
 did for her ; and see what she has been to me 
 ever since ! me, a cripple, such as you see, 
 and she scarce more than a child, aud slight 
 of body as that young lady there ! and as 
 tender of heart,' added she, seeing Rosamond's 
 tears. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton then went away, notwith- 
 standing Rosamond's earnest wishes to see 
 and hear more ; and though she begged most 
 anxiously to be permitted to do something, 
 and expressed the most eager desire to do a 
 great deal as soon as possible, Mrs. Egerton 
 gently, but steadily resisted. ' No, my love, 
 no, leave it to me ; I hope I shall do all that 
 can, that ought to be done for both. But we 
 must not take from this grateful girl the merit 
 and the pleasure which, be assured, she has, 
 in the depth of poverty and in the midst of 
 her hard struggles, in bearing and forbearing, 
 in feeling that she is all in all to that poor 
 cripple, and that her grateful heart gives what 
 neither our money, nor any money can pur- 
 chase.' 
 
 \ True, indeed ; I do believe it ; I am con- 
 vinced of it,' said Rosamond reluctantly ; and, 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
138 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 as she returned with Mrs. Egerton, walking 
 slowly up the steep path, she reflected in si- 
 lence, till Mrs. Egerton pausing to rest, Rosa- 
 mond repeated, ' I am convinced you are 
 right, ma'am. That poor girl had literally 
 nothing of her own to give ; yet her gratitude 
 was most touching, and more truly generous 
 than that of my magnificent countess, and far 
 more meritorious, because, as you say, here is 
 such constant self-denial, such wonderful pow- 
 er over herself ! ' continued Rosamond. ' O, 
 think of what it must be to bear that scolding 
 woman, added to all her own misery, day and 
 night for four years ! half starved, and sick, 
 and working so hard ! ' 
 
 That which words could not fully express, 
 Rosamond finished by shedding a few uncon- 
 trollable tears, and by several deep sighs, 
 which relieved her, as they walked slowly 
 up the glen to rejoin the party, whom they 
 had left in the forest. 
 
 Laura had not only finished sketching the 
 group of children gathering acorns and the 
 scathed oak, but she had taken a view of a 
 beautiful glade in the forest before Rosamond's 
 return. Godfrey, the moment he saw her, 
 run to meet her, calling to beg she would 
 help them to recollect the description of the 
 scathed oak in Mundy's Need wood Forest. 
 This turned Rosamond's attention from the 
 miseries she had just witnessed, and, after a 
 little recollection, she repeated the whole 
 passage. Mrs. Egerton said she often thought 
 
ROSAMOND. 139 
 
 of those lines when she looked at that favorite 
 old tree ; but that she loved better still the 
 verses to his Arm Chair, and those to his little 
 grandson of seven years old, and asked God- 
 frey to repeat them for her. 
 
 During the latter part of the walk home, 
 the conversation took a different turn. A 
 country gentleman, who was one of the party, 
 was well acquainted with Mr. Mundy, having 
 been once his schoolfellow, and always his 
 friend. He was pleased to find that his 
 verses had been selected and liked by these 
 young people. Though Mr. Mundy had been 
 dead some time, his memory was still fresh 
 in the minds of all who had known him. 
 ' By some,' said bis friend, ' perhaps he was 
 liked only for his convivial qualities, or as a 
 good companion in the fox chase ; but he was 
 better appreciated by others, who admired his 
 cultivated taste, agreeable conversation, and 
 polite maimers. By all he was loved for his 
 amiable temper and his benevolent habits ; 
 and in every rank his loss was felt as a kind 
 neighbor, a good landlord, an excellent mag- 
 istrate, and a useful country gentleman.' To 
 this eulogium Godfrey and Rosamond listened 
 with an interest, excited by their previous ac- 
 quaintance with his poetry. Rosamond was 
 much gratified by perceiving that rational 
 conversation was addressed to her ; that she 
 was herself considered, neither as an ignorant 
 child, nor yet as a mere young lady, thinking 
 only of dress and nonsense. 
 
140 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 It was observed that she and her brother 
 always attended to good conversation, instead 
 of carrying on, as many young persons do, all 
 the time any rational subject is discussed, 
 some tittering, trifling, ill-bred whispering, 
 apart among themselves, or else sitting or 
 standing in all the constraint of uninterested, 
 stupified silence. 
 
 To tell things just as they were, however, 
 it should be here confessed that Rosamond, 
 proud of some particular notice that had been 
 taken of her brother, continued, in complais- 
 ance to Godfrey, to listen a little longer than 
 she really wished to do to a conversation, 
 which began among the gentlemen, on the 
 advantages and disadvantages of the game 
 laws. She made several attempts to draw 
 Godfrey off, that she might tell him what she 
 had seen of the grateful girl, and of the para- 
 lytic woman, but his attention was too much 
 engaged. At length Rosamond, hearing some 
 words of a more entertaining subject from an- 
 other division of the walkers, withdrew her 
 arm gently from her brother's. 
 
 1 So, Rosamond ! ' exclaimed he, ' you don't 
 like to hear all this of the game laws V 
 
 1 No, thank you,' said she ; ' I want to hear 
 something that Laura is listening to; some 
 account of a fire in London; will you come?' 
 
 ' O, no,' said Godfrey; ' I must hear what 
 these gentlemen are saying about the game 
 laws; but you are a woman, and you are 
 quite right not to meddle with politics ; go ; 
 
ROSAMOND. 141 
 
 go, Rosamond, you are quite right/ added he, 
 with a little nod of manly superiority. 
 
 On nearer approach, Rosamond found that 
 the fire in London, of which Laura was speak- 
 ing, was no new accident, but one which hap- 
 pened one hundred and fifty years ago, the 
 old fire of 1666, which nearly destroyed the 
 city in the time of Charles the Second. 
 
 ' But how came you to talk of this, my dear 
 Laura?' said Rosamond. ' When I left you, 
 you were talking of Mr. Mundy and country 
 gentlemen. How did you get to the fire of 
 London ? ' 
 
 ' Very easily,' said Laura l From country 
 gentlemen to planting, and Evelyn's Sylva ; 
 then to his diary, which brought to our minds 
 the recollection of his interesting account of 
 that dreadful fire in London.' 
 
 Rosamond was well acquainted with this 
 passage, and had heard so many others read 
 aloud by her father, and had learnt so much 
 of Evelyn in the course of conversation, that 
 she knew his history and his character, and 
 felt interested about Wottcn, the house and 
 place he so often mentions, and to which he 
 was so much attached. So that it was with 
 the greatest pleasure that she heard arrange- 
 ments made for going to see that place the 
 next day, and listened with eagerness to the 
 detail of open carriages, side-saddles, and 
 ponies. 
 
 The moment they arrived at the Abbey, 
 Godfrey and Rosamond hurried to Dr. Eger- 
 
.42 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Hill Iiiiii ill 
 
 ton's study, and, with their customary pre- 
 face of I hope we don't disturb you, sir, they 
 began to tell him all that they had seen, heard, 
 felt, and understood, since they had left him. 
 As soon as they came into his study, Dr. Eg- 
 erton put away his papers, dismissed his man 
 of business, seated himself in what he called 
 his idle arm-chair, and listened to his young 
 friends with that polite, benevolent, encourag- 
 ing look, which assured them, even more than 
 his words could do, that they were never 
 troublesome. 
 
 Laura's sketches were put into his hands, 
 
ROSAMOND. 143 
 
 but, before he could well have time to begin 
 his praises, or his criticisms, Godfrey had be- 
 gun his report of the debate on the game laws. 
 and Rosamond was imploring leave to tell her 
 history of the walk with Mrs. Egerton. But 
 Dr. Egerton, as soon as he heard Rosamond 
 mention the poor girl and the paralytic wo- 
 man, told her that Mrs. Egerton had just been 
 speaking to him on this subject, and that they 
 had been contriving together some means of 
 bettering their condition ; and that Mrs. Eger- 
 ton was already occupied in preparing to car- 
 ry their plan into execution. 
 
 ' So soon ! O, delightful ! ' said Rosamond. 
 1 You and Mrs. Egerton are not what my 
 father calls sayers, but doers. You know, 
 Godfrey, what my father was saying the 
 other day, that there are two sets of people in 
 the world ; one, the very large class of the 
 sayers ; the other, the very, very small one of 
 the doers? 
 
 But Godfrey did not listen to Rosamond, 
 for, at this moment, he wanted to be one of 
 the sayers ; and having at length caught Dr. 
 Egerton's eye, he went on with the speech on 
 the game laws, which Rosamond had inter- 
 rupted ; and, to do him justice, he summed up 
 the argument he had heard from his able and 
 honorable friends very fairly ; and, quoting 
 the orator's words, he declared that, well as 
 he loved riding, leaping, and hunting, he 
 hoped he should never be one of those who 
 think it the best birthright of a freeborn Brit- 
 
144 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 on, and the first privilege of a gentleman, to 
 gallop after foxes, hunt hares, or shoot small 
 birds ; in short, if his vote were to decide the 
 matter, it should be for the total abolition of 
 the game laws. 
 
 Dr. Egerton smiled at the young orator's 
 warmth; and, commending his humanity, 
 seemed nevertheless to doubt whether he 
 might continue to be of his present opinion 
 some years hence, when he should become 
 one of the privileged tribe of Nimrod himself, 
 and when he would probably see things in 
 quite another light, and, like others, leave the 
 hare to her many friends, and the fox to his 
 many enemies. No — Godfrey, with eager 
 benevolence, protested against this, and pledg- 
 ed himself to support his present opinion when 
 he should be twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred 
 years old. 
 
 ' Meantime,' said Dr. Egerton, ' take my 
 advice; hear much, and say as little as possi- 
 ble upon this, or any other question, which 
 requires extensive and accurate knowledge 
 before any safe judgment can be formed of 
 the bearings of the different points, and of the 
 consequences of abolishing old, or making 
 new regulations. But pray, my young poli- 
 tician,' continued Dr. Egerton, 'understand 
 that I do not wish to repress your spirit of in- 
 quiry, or your wish to exercise your reasoning 
 powers, as you do, upon every subject that 
 you hear discussed. But, till you are sure of 
 your ground, tell your opinions on such sub- 
 
ROSAMOND. 145 
 
 jects only to your private friends, such as my- 
 self for instance, or your father or mother.' 
 
 Godfrey, in whom the spirit, not only of a 
 young politician, but of a parliamentary de- 
 bater, was just rising, looked much disap- 
 pointed by this speech of Dr. Egerton, and 
 not relishing this advice, he said, he confess- 
 ed that he was afraid he should not have liked 
 to have been one of the disciples of Pythago- 
 ras, during that terrible year of silence that 
 was required from them. 
 
 ' But that was absolute silence,' Dr. Egerton 
 observed, ' which he by no means advised to 
 his young friend, especially as he should be a 
 great sufferer by it; as there was no one en- 
 joyed more than he did their free, natural, 
 first thoughts ; but he only recommended their 
 refraining from giving to strangers decisive 
 opinions on subjects where they had not means 
 of judging.' 
 
 Godfrey thanked Dr. Egerton for the kind- 
 ness of this advice, but could not refrain from 
 proceeding to farther lengths against the prin- 
 ciple, policy, and wisdom of the measure, when 
 Helen burst in eagerly, to announce the joy- 
 ful news, that all was settled for their next 
 day's expedition to Wotton, and that she was 
 to go, and Rosamond was to go, and Laura, 
 and Godfrey, and every body, provided the: 
 day should be fine enough for riding. 
 
 VOL. II. 13 
 
146 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 THE BLACK LANE. 
 
 AT the first dawn of light, Rosamond was at 
 her turret window, looking out to see 
 what kind of day it would be ; and, putting 
 her head far out to the east, she saw the case- 
 ment window of the eastern turret thrown 
 open, and Godfrey's head popped out for the 
 same purpose. Head nodded to head, and 
 withdrew, both satisfied, from the promise of 
 the sunrise, that it would be as fine a day as 
 heart could wish. And happily for those 
 who were to ride, and those who were to go 
 in open carriages, the weather was quite de- 
 cided in its promise and in its performance. 
 They had not to trust to — 
 
 The uncertain glories of an April day. 
 
 It was October ; there was neither too much 
 heat, nor too much cold, nor too much wind, 
 nor too much dust, nor too much nor too little 
 of any thing, of which the most fastidious 
 felicity hunters could complain. 
 
 Felicity hunters, if any young or old reader 
 should chance to be unacquainted with the 
 term, is — as the traveller told Rosamond — the 
 name given, in the Isle of Wight, to those who 
 go there and make parties of pleasure to see 
 the beauties of the island. Our party were 
 not teMcily -hunters, but felicity-defers, for 
 
ROSAMOND. 1 47 
 
 they were disposed to find pleasure in every 
 thing they saw, and that is a great step to- 
 wards success in finding it, as Rosamond, 
 from her own experience of the party of pain, 
 and the party of pleasure, in the days of her 
 childhood, well remembered. Rosamond was 
 set to go in the carriage when they set out, 
 and to ride in returning. She was soon hap- 
 pily seated in the landau, wedged in between 
 Laura and the red-cushioued elbow. 
 
 To all who have ever been in the lovely 
 valley of Dorking, the very sound of its name 
 will call forth instant exclamations of delight ; 
 and such continually burst from our young 
 travellers when they saw this happy valley. 
 The riders called to those in the carriage, and 
 and those in the carriage called to those who 
 were riding. 
 
 1 O, look there, Rosamond !' cried Godfrey, 
 pointing to the right with his whip. 
 
 1 O, look here ! Godfrey ! Laura ! mother ! 
 father ! ' cried Rosamond, as the views passed 
 too quickly before her; views of cultivated 
 hills, covered with a vast extent of wood in 
 rich foliage, and autumnal tints, to which the 
 bright, low, October sun gave constant varie- 
 ty of light and shade. Every landscape, as 
 it passed, Laura longed to put into her sketch 
 book, but at every trial she failed in the hope 
 of representing what she saw, and at last 
 gave herself up, as Rosamond advised, to the 
 full enjoyment of the present. 
 
 The traveller pointed out, as they passed 
 
148 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 on, all the places famed for beauty, which 
 could be seen from that road, telling them 
 their names, and those of their present and 
 former possessors ; relating anecdotes of past 
 and present times, which gave a character to 
 almost every part of the country through 
 which they passed. As they came within 
 view of a very picturesque demesne, Godfrey 
 and his father rode up to the side of the car- 
 riage to point out to Laura and Rosamond the 
 beautiful grounds of Chert Park, which join 
 the Deep Dene. 
 
 ' Those two charming places,' said their 
 father, ' are now united. Chert Park has 
 lately been purchased, and given to the pos- 
 sessor of the Deep Dene by his brother, who 
 declared that the day, on which he saw the 
 boundaries between the two estates levelled, 
 was the happiest of his life.' 
 
 ' How noble ! How kind ! How generous ! ' 
 exclaimed the party in the carriage. 
 
 ' It is a good thing, indeed,' said Godfrey's 
 father, turning to him, ' to have such a broth- 
 er ; but I question much whether the being 
 such a one is not still better.' 
 
 ' The affection of these brothers reminds 
 me,' said the traveller, 'of the attachment to 
 each other shown by two young Frenchmen, 
 brothers of that family who were so nobly re- 
 ceived by the Polish Countess, of whom you 
 were reading yesterday, Miss Rosamond.' 
 
 ' O ! pray tell it to us,' exclaimed Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
ROSAMOND. 149 
 
 1 They were concerned in a conspiracy 
 against. Bonaparte,' continued the traveller, 
 f during his prosperity in France. Their 
 plans were discovered ; they were seized and 
 imprisoned. I forget by what means they 
 escaped being shot. The only favor they 
 obtained for some years, during a most rigor- 
 ous confinement, was that of being permitted 
 to be together. They had happy tempers, and 
 contrived to keep up each other's spirits. At 
 last the severity of their confinement was re- 
 laxed in some degree, and they were removed 
 on their parole to the castle of Vincennes. 
 They both possessed many accomplishments, 
 and spent their time in drawing, music, and 
 in many innocent amusements. However, 
 when the Allies were approaching France, it 
 was thought dangerous to allow them so much 
 liberty. They one day received a visit from 
 an officer, of whose hostile designs they could 
 have no doubt, though he appeared to have 
 nothing but friendly intentions towards them. 
 He invited himself to dine with them, and, at 
 last, recommended their accompanying him 
 from the prison ; they of course made no re- 
 sistance. Dinner came ; conversation contin- 
 ued, during which the two brothers contrived 
 to make themselves understood by each other, 
 by means of a species of cypher which they 
 had amused themselves in learning. In every 
 sentence they addressed to the officer they in- 
 troduced particular words, which, after a cer- 
 tain time, formed a sentence, which conveyed 
 
150 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 their intentions to each other ; in this manner 
 they concerted between them their plan. Up- 
 on some pretext, one brother went down stairs, 
 and, after some minutes, the other went to his 
 apartment above stairs, saying that he would 
 prepare himself for his departure. They had 
 purposely lingered over their dinner till it was 
 quite dark. 'The brother, who had been above 
 stairs, came down, rushed into the room where 
 he had left the officer, blew out the candle, 
 fastened the door on him, ran down stairs and 
 joined the younger brother, who was waiting 
 for him below. They had often marked the 
 place in the wall, where they could, if neces- 
 sary, clear it ; dark as it was, they knew it, 
 and got safe to the outside of the walls of 
 Paris. If they escaped from thence, they 
 feared being immediately traced, they there- 
 fore got to the other extremity of Paris, and 
 there concealed themselves, while all France 
 was searched for them in vain.' 
 
 Just as the traveller had finished this his- 
 tory they arrived at Wotton. The first sight 
 of this house, built in the fashion of Queen 
 Elizabeth's time, round a hollow square, with 
 small windows, pointed eye-brows, and many- 
 peaked roof, disappointed Rosamond and God- 
 frey. It was old enough, but not venerable 
 enough to strike Rosamond's fancy; and every 
 room they entered she found too low, too small, 
 and too dark ; the library especially, of which 
 they had formed magnificent expectations, 
 disappointed Godfrey so much, that twice he 
 
ROSAMOND. 151 
 
 repeated, c And is this really the library 1 Is 
 this Evelyn's library?' 
 
 But Evelyn's portrait, with his Sylva in 
 his hand, and the sight and smell of the orig- 
 inal manuscript of his journal, proved quite 
 satisfactory ; and the old port-folios, with all 
 the odd prints and drawings, which Evelyn 
 collected, when he was a young man, on the 
 Continent, and sent home to his father at 
 Wotton, delighted Godfrey ; and not only him, 
 but his friend the traveller, who had seen 
 most of what is best worth seeing in the four 
 quarters of the globe, examined, with minute 
 curiosity and interest, every tattered remnant 
 of the yellow paper notes in Evelyn's hand- 
 writing. 
 
 ' Such is the power of the celebrated name, 
 known all over Europe,' said the traveller. 
 
 ' Such, my dear son," said Godfrey's father, 
 1 is the interest inspired by those, who, dur- 
 ing their lives, distinguish themselves among 
 their fellow-creatures by knowledge, talents, 
 and virtue ; and who, after their death, leave, 
 in their works, records of their not having 
 lived in vain.' 
 
 All the company now set out upon their 
 walk. The woods of Wotton surpassed the 
 expectations of old and young. As to the 
 country gentleman, he was in a state of con- 
 tinual enthusiasm ; the more remarkable, as, 
 till now, he had shown no symptoms of warmth 
 on any other subject. He stopped frequently 
 to exclaim, at the sight of the magnificent ex- 
 
152 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tent of the woods, ' Ha ! these forest trees do 
 honor indeed to Evelyn's Sylva, or Sylva's 
 father ! He planted Wotton. What one man 
 can do when he sets about it ! All that you 
 see planted by one man ! As far as the eye 
 can reach, and farther ! Well ! if any thing 
 could teach men to be wise, and plant in time, 
 certainly such a sight as this would do it ! ' 
 
 ' Do it, 9 said the orator to himself, s is but 
 a flat ending.' 
 
 Godfrey's father sighed, and observed that 
 all he now saw, and all he now heard, made 
 him regret that he had not, early in life, plant- 
 ed more. ' My son will, I hope, be wiser 
 than I have been.' 
 
 ' Orlando, my father means,' said Godfrey 
 to Rosamond, whose eyes immediately turned 
 upon him. ' But, father, by the by,' contin- 
 ued Godfrey, ' I want to ask you a question ; 
 I have something to say.' 
 
 ' By the by, and / to ant to ask you a ques- 
 tion, I have sometldng to say, might be omit- 
 ted,' whispered the orator to Laura. ' Pardon 
 me ; but your brother, I see, intends to be an 
 orator ; and, as I am sure he will always have 
 something to say, he will do well to avoid any 
 of these by-words and useless prefaces.' 
 
 Godfrey, without having the benefit of this 
 counsel at the moment, went on with his 
 speech to his father, entirely to the country 
 gentleman's satisfaction, for the purport of it 
 was to declare his intentions, as soon as he 
 should arrive at years of discretion, to plant 
 
ROSA.MOND. 153 
 
 a small portion of land, which his grandfather 
 had left to him, and of which, as it was moun- 
 tain and moorland, he could make no better 
 use. His father promised to assist him in 
 carrying his laudable resolution into effect, 
 even before Godfrey should arrive at legal 
 years of discretion. From this moment it 
 was observed that Godfrey, and with him 
 Rosamond, who sympathized in all her broth- 
 er's concerns and projects, listened with much 
 increased interest to all that was said upon 
 the subject of planting and fencing, and on 
 the growth, cutting, pruning, and profit of 
 trees. She and Godfrey often assisted the 
 country gentleman in measuring, with hat- 
 band and handkerchief, the girth of many 
 prodigious trees, and, in return, received from 
 him much useful information for the manage- 
 ment of the future woods on the Moorland 
 estate. Laura, meantime, was equally happy 
 in making some rapid sketches of the pictur- 
 esque groups of trees present to her eye. and 
 was kindly assisted by the traveller, who was 
 master of the art of drawing, and who knew, 
 as well as Kennion himself, how, by skilful 
 touches, to give to each different tree or grove 
 the peculiar character of their respective 
 growth and foliage. In one lesson, given in 
 this manner, by a person who began by in- 
 sisting that she should not draw a line with- 
 out knowing with what intent, and for what 
 purpose, Laura said she learned more of the 
 art than she had acquired in previous months 
 
154 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and years from common masters. She was 
 so eager at her work that she could hardly 
 leave it, even when most peremptorily sum- 
 moned by Godfrey and Rosamond, to all the 
 joys of dining in a tent ! a marquee ! with its 
 red streamer flying ! 
 
 There is an age, and Laura, Godfrey, and 
 Rosamond were of that age, when it is one 
 of the greatest pleasures of life to dine in a 
 tent ; and the more inconvenient the place, and 
 the fewer the customary luxuries of life the 
 better, because the greater must be the occa- 
 sion for making every thing answer some 
 purpose for which it was never originally in- 
 tended, and consequently the more laughter, 
 the more enjoyment, the more delight. On 
 the present occasion perhaps, the tent and the 
 arrangement were rather too convenient for 
 Godfrey and Rosamond; but they better suit- 
 ed the more mature taste of their father and 
 mother, Dr. and Mrs. Egerton, and even of 
 the traveller, who loved his ease, he owned, 
 when he could have it; and of the country 
 gentleman, who loved always to have every 
 thing comfortable, even at a fete champetre. 
 
 After dinner, while the company were walk- 
 ing from the tent to the avenue, where they 
 were to meet the carriages, Godfrey and Ro- 
 samond went to the gardens to see the foun- 
 tain ; and, while they were looking at it, Hel- 
 en came running to them — ■ 
 
 ' The horses are all ready ! O, I have run 
 so fast ! ' cried she. ' Rosamond, I am glad 
 
ROSAMOND. 155 
 
 I am in time to ask you if you are going to 
 ride all the way back ) ' 
 
 ' Yes, that I am/ said Rosamond, i if you 
 please.' 
 
 ' I do please ; but, my dear Rosamond, I 
 came to beg you will take care when you 
 come to the black lane.' 
 
 ' The black lane ! ; repeated Rosamond, 
 with a look of alarm. 
 
 1 Yes,' said Helen; ' the pony, though the 
 gentlest creature, and the quietest at all other 
 times, is always restive when she comes to 
 that lane.' 
 
 ' What a horrid place it must be ! ' said 
 Rosamond. 
 
 c But why ? ' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' Because,' answered Helen, ' the pony once 
 run away down that lane with our servant 
 Richard's son, and threw him.' 
 
 1 A child, I suppose, that did not know how 
 to sit a horse,' said Godfrey. 
 
 '- But is that the reason it is called the black 
 lane ? Why is it called by that terrific name 1 ' 
 said Rosamond, on whose imagination the 
 name made more impression than the reality 
 of the danger. But, to her question, she could 
 obtain no satisfactory answer. Helen did not 
 know, or did not hear what she said, for God- 
 frey was proving to her that it must have 
 been the boy's fault that the pony threw him. 
 Then, anxious to quiet Rosamond's apprehen- 
 sions, who, as she observed, looked excessively 
 
156 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 alarmed, Helen began to soften her first hasty 
 representation. 
 
 ' My dear Rosamond,' said she, l yon need 
 not be the least afraid of my pony ; she is the 
 gentlest creature in the world, except just 
 when she comes to the turn to the black lane.' 
 
 1 O, that horrible lane ! Do tell me all about 
 it?' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' I have nothing to tell, but that the pony 
 formerly lived there.' 
 
 1 Lived in the black lane?' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Yes ; she was bought from the famer who 
 lives at the end of the lane, and she always 
 wants to turn down there, because she has an 
 affection for the place, that's all.' 
 
 'That's all,' said Godfrey; 'she is the 
 quietest creature in the world; I could ride 
 her with a rein of worsted ; but Helen is a 
 little bit of a coward, and is frightened if a 
 horse moves its ears.' 
 
 ' Well, I know I am a coward,' said Helen; 
 ' and I only tell you, Rosamond, there's no 
 danger, I know, if you let Richard lead her 
 past the lane, or just let him ride between 
 you and the turn.' 
 
 ' But why Richard ?' said Godfrey ; ' I can 
 take care of her as well as Richard.' 
 
 ' 0, certainly ; but I would rather have 
 Richard too, when we come to the dangerous 
 place,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' To the black lane ! ? said Godfrey. ' That 
 name has run away with Rosamond's imag- 
 ination. See, how frightened she looks ! ' 
 
ROSAMOND. 157 
 
 1 Not at all, brother,' said Rosamond, l only 
 I think—' 
 
 ' I think,' interrupted Godfrey, ' to settle 
 the matter at once, if you are a coward you 
 had better not ride at all, my dear.' 
 
 While Rosamond stood doubtful, between 
 the fear of the black lane, and the fear that 
 her brother should think her a coward, they 
 came up to the place where the horses were 
 standing, and Richard, the servant who usu- 
 ally rode with Helen, called Careful Richard, 
 led the pony up to his mistress. In reply to 
 Godfrey's and Rosamond's instant questions, 
 concerning the habits and dispositions of the 
 pony, Richard patted her fondly, declaring 
 there was not a quieter creature upon earth ; 
 she never ran away but once, and that was 
 the boy's fault who was riding her. 
 
 ' So I told you, Rosamond,' cried Godfrey. 
 
 ' But I don't care whose fault it was,' said 
 Rosamond. ' Helen says the pony always 
 wants to run off down the lane.' 
 
 That she might have a liking to turn 
 down the lane where she had formerly lived, 
 Richard would not take upon him to deny. 
 ' But. sir,' added he, turning to Godfrey, ' she 
 never attempts such a thing, or thinks of it, 
 except when Miss Helen is riding her, who is 
 so very tvmorsome, and the pony knows she 
 can do as she pleases.' 
 
 Godfrey laughed at Helen's cowardice ; 
 and Rosamond's fear of being laughed at 
 conquered her fear of the lane ; so patting the 
 
158 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 pretty bright bay pony, who stood as quiel 
 as a lamb, she declared she was not the least 
 afraid now, and that she would not upon any 
 account give up her ride with Godfrey ; so. 
 Godfrey praising her spirit, she sprang upon 
 the pony, proud to show that she was not 
 timorsome. Her father, who had not heard 
 what had passed, joined them just as she had 
 mounted, and they set out all together. Ro- 
 samond, afraid to show Godfrey some fears 
 that still lurked in her secret soul, did not 
 mention it to her father. Once she was going 
 to say something of it, but Godfrey praised 
 her way of holding the bridle, and that put it 
 out of her head. The traveller and his sister 
 were of the riding party this evening. The 
 traveller's sister was a remarkably good horse- 
 woman, and the conversation turned upon 
 cowards, who die many times before their 
 death ; and the valiant, who never taste death 
 but once. It was observed by the traveller 
 and his sister, that Rosamond would ride very 
 well ; that she had a very good seat; that she 
 had a rnncli better seat than Helen ; that she 
 was not a coward. &c. All these observations 
 flattered Rosamond not a little ; she found the 
 pony go remarkably well, and her spirits rose; 
 she got from a canter into a gallop, and went 
 on so fast that her father several times called 
 to her, to desire her not to ride so fast, and to 
 keep near him ; but she, proud to show her 
 horsemanship, went on with Godfrey, who 
 admired, and was proud of his sister's spirit, 
 
ROSAMOND. 159 
 
 as he called it. The evening was fine, and 
 the road good, and all went on charmingly ; 
 Rosamond pretended to be quite at ease, and 
 Godfrey so completely deceived by her seem- 
 ing bravery, that he got deep into a calcula- 
 tion concerning his future plantations, and 
 into the plan of the house which he was to 
 build, with the profit of the trees he was 
 reckoning before they were planted. 
 
 I Yon shall draw the plan of the house, Ro- 
 samond,' said he. 
 
 I I will, certainly.' said Rosamond. ' But, 
 brother, will you get me a bough for this 
 pony, the flies are teasing her sadly, I think.' 
 
 ' Not at all, my dear. My library shall be 
 a great deal larger, I promise you, than the 
 library at Wotton ; do you recollect how 
 many feet long the library at Egerton Abbey 
 is, Rosamond V 
 
 1 1 don't recollect, indeed,' said Rosamond ; 
 * twenty, thirty — the pony certainly is grow- 
 ing uneasy,' thought she, 'I believe we are 
 coming to the black lane.' 
 
 1 Twenty, thirty, my dear ! what can you 
 be thinking of? — nearer forty. I believe, af- 
 ter all, you are afraid of the horse flies.' 
 
 ' Not the least,' said Rosamond, struggling 
 to conceal her fears ; ' forty, nearer forty, as 
 you say, I believe it is.' 
 
 ' Well, my library shall be full forty feet 
 long; and what breadth, Rosamond?' 
 
 c Breadth? O, very broad; any breadth,' 
 said Rosamond, f But what place is this we 
 
160 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 are coming to, Godfrey V said she, looking to 
 some trees, and a house at a little distance. 
 ' Now we are coming to the black lane.' 
 thought she, but did not dare to tell her fears, 
 or to pronounce the name. 
 
 ' I see nothing but a farm house ; I don't 
 know whose it is, and what does it signify V 
 said Godfrey. ' My library shall have gothic 
 windows, which you like, don't you, Rosa- 
 mond?' 
 
 ' O yes, gothic ; yes, certainly. But do 
 call Richard, brother, for the saddle is turn- 
 ing, or going to turn, I believe ; the girth is 
 too tight, or too loose, or something.' 
 
 ' No such thing,' said Godfrey, ' the saddle 
 is not turning, nor going to turn.' 
 
 ' Richard ! Richard ! get down and look at 
 the girths,' said Rosamond. 
 
 Richard alighted, and examined the girths. 
 
 ' Pray what place is that to the right,' said 
 she. 
 
 ' The black lane, miss,' said Richard. — 
 ' The girths are tight enough, sir.' 
 
 ' Pray, Richard, why is this lane called 
 black V asked Rosamond. 
 
 ' On account, miss, of the hedges being all 
 of blackthorn. In former times it used to be 
 called Blackthorn lane, so then it came to be, 
 for shortness, Black lane.' 
 
 On hearing this explanation, all the sublime 
 and mysterious ideas Rosamond had formed 
 of the black lane were instantly dispelled, and 
 she was now only apprehensive that her bro- 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 161 
 
 ther should find them out, and laugh at her. 
 Therefore, going to the contrary extreme, she 
 in a moment went from cowardice to rash- 
 ness ; she would neither allow the servant to 
 ride on, as he proposed, that he might keep 
 between her and the turn to the lane ; nor 
 would she let Godfrey take her bridle, nor yet 
 would she wait till her father should come 
 up. On she went cantering, to prove that she 
 was not timorsome, and to raise Godfrey's ad- 
 miration of her courage ; but at the moment 
 when her courage was most wanting, unfor- 
 tunately it suddenly failed ; just as she came 
 to the turn she lost her presence of mind, and, 
 looking down the lane, checked the bridle, 
 turning the pony's head the wrong way. 
 
 VOL. II. 14 
 
162 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Godfrey snatched at her bridle, missed it, 
 and off she went down the lane full gallop, 
 Rosamond screaming. Godfrey and the groom 
 after her. There was a gate at the end of 
 the lane, leading into the farm-yard ; the po- 
 ny stopped suddenly at the gate, and Rosa- 
 mond was thrown over her head, and over 
 the gate into the yard. Godfrey was so much 
 terrified that, he saw no more ; the groom 
 rode on ; and when he came to the gate he 
 saw Rosamond lying on a heap of straw, 
 which had been left in the farm-*yard, and on 
 which, most happily, she had been thrown. 
 She was stunned however by the fall, and lay 
 motionless. Godfrey raised her up a little, 
 and the moment she recovered her recollec- 
 tion she exclaimed, ' I am not hurt, my dear 
 Godfrey ; don't be frightened, I am not the 
 Ipasf hui*t 
 
 'Thank God ! O thank God !' cried Godfrey. 
 
 c Thank God !' repeated Rosamond ; and 
 starting up to convince her brother that she 
 was not hurt, she attempted to walk ; but the 
 instant she put her left foot to the ground, 
 she felt that her ankle was strained. 
 
 ' Never mind it,' said she, sitting down a- 
 gain ; ' the pain is not great, Godfrey ; if you 
 can put me upon the pony again, I think I 
 can ride home ; it is only three miles ; that 
 will be best ; then I shall not alarm father 
 and mother ; so say nothing about it. I dare 
 say the pain will go off, and I shall be well 
 to-morrow. Besides, you know, Mrs. What's- 
 
ROSAMOND. 163 
 
 her-name says, that nobody will ever be a 
 good horsewoman, who does not get upon her 
 horse again directly after having had a first 
 fall. I am determined I will not give it up, 
 I will go through with spirit.' 
 
 Godfrey admired her courage, though he 
 insisted upqn telling all that had happened, 
 when they should arrive at home; he did not 
 object to her remounting the pony. Rosa- 
 mond had secretly hoped that he would have 
 objected to it ; and now, between her preten- 
 ded courage and real cowardice, she was in a 
 great difficulty. The groom, standing with 
 the stirrup in hand, was anxious that she 
 should remount and ride home, and that no- 
 thing more should be said ; while the pru- 
 dent farmer and his wife, who had come out 
 into the yard to quiet their dogs, and to offer 
 assistance, dissuaded Rosamond from the at- 
 tempt ; and the farmer giving the nod of au- 
 thority to one of his sons, the boy ran off, 
 quick as an arrow from a bow ; he ran till 
 he met the riding party and told what had 
 happened. In a few minutes, and before the 
 groom could settle girths and curb to Rosa- 
 mond's satisfaction, she saw her father gal- 
 loping down the lane. This lane was so nar- 
 row that the carriage could not come along it 
 to the farm-yard. Her father forbad the at- 
 tempt to remount the pony ; and Rosamond 
 was carried to the landau, and laid on the 
 front seat. Her mother and Laura had suf- 
 fered much from anxiety during the time that 
 
164 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 necessarily passed, till the arrival of Rosa- 
 mond, who, much more than the pain of her 
 ankle, felt sorrow for having alarmed all her 
 friends so much ; and she regretted, hut re- 
 gretted in vain, being the cause of ending, in 
 such a vexatious manner, this happy day. 
 
 It was difficult to be angry with Rosamond, 
 however well inclined to it her friends might 
 feel ; her contrition turned away their anger. 
 Her chief concern was to prevent any share 
 of the blame from falling on her brother. 
 
 Godfrey all the time reproached himself for 
 not having taken better care of her. How 
 they at last divided the shares of blame a- 
 mong them, we never could accurately learn. 
 But we know that, contrary to the usual 
 practice on such occasions, all were ready to 
 take to themselves a just portion : and a due, 
 but not more than a due share, we believe, 
 was thrown upon the pony. To the honor of 
 Helen we must record, that she did above 
 three times repeat, that she had warned God- 
 frey of the danger ; and that she had from 
 the first, advised Rosamond to be careful at 
 that turn to the black lane. 
 
 Upon examination it was found that Rosa- 
 mond's ankle was very much bruised and 
 swelled. The pain increased during the night, 
 so that her hopes of being almost well next 
 morning vanished when the day arrived, and 
 even to her sanguine imagination it appeared 
 a little doubtful, whether she should be quite 
 well before the important evening fixed for a 
 
ROSAMOND. 165 
 
 dance to be given at Egerton Abbey the en- 
 suing week. Meantime, during her confine- 
 ment to the house and to the sofa, she had 
 leisure for some solitary reflections. 
 
 ' After all, mother,' said she, 'I was blamed 
 for being too courageous, but the fact was, 
 that I was too cowardly. I was afraid to let 
 Godfrey see that I was afraid ; I deceived 
 him by my pretended bravery, and that was 
 the reason he did not take care of me at the 
 right time ; all this arose from my wanting to 
 show that I could ride better than Helen. In 
 short, I was thinking more of what people 
 would say of me, than of what was prudent. 
 However, I have had a good lesson now, mo- 
 ther ; no danger of my forgetting it, as long 
 as I live ! You need not smile, Laura ; de- 
 pend upon it, that, as long as ever I live, if I 
 live a hundred years, I never will again be 
 so foolish as to hazard my life, and to alarm 
 all my friends, merely for the sake of being 
 praised for not being timorsome? 
 
 Her mother much approved of this resolu- 
 tion. 'And depend upon it, Laura,' repeated 
 Rosamond, ' it is a resolution I shall keep, 
 though I know you are sure that I shall not.' 
 
 'Sure ! O no,' said Laura; 'but I only 
 fear a little, that Godfrey — ' 
 
 ' Never fear,' interrupted Rosamond. ' I 
 am too wise now.' 
 
 During the remainder of this day, and for 
 two or three succeeding days, Rosamond con- 
 tinued in the same prudent and cautious 
 
166 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 mood; and this lasted till the swelling of the 
 ankle abated, the inflammation ceased, the 
 bruises faded, in due course, from black to 
 blue, and from blue to yellow. Then Rosa- 
 mond, soon forgetting the taste of pain, began 
 again to entertain high thoughts of future 
 rides, especially when she saw Godfrey with 
 his boots on, his whip in his hand, and his 
 horse, his bright black horse, led round with- 
 in view of the windows. 
 
 1 What a delightful day ! I am glad you 
 are going to ride, brother.' 
 
 ' And I am sorry you cannot ride with me, 
 poor dear Rosamond. Your ankle is getting 
 well, is not it V 
 
 ' Yes, quite well — almost,' said Rosamond. 
 ' Very soon I shall be able to walk again, and 
 I think I might ride before I walk, might not 
 I ? What do you think, Godfrey V 
 
 1 Certainly, I dare say,' said Godfrey. 
 
 ' What do you think, Laura V 
 
 1 I think the stirrup would hurt you very 
 much,' said Laura ; ' and that you had better 
 wait till your foot is quite well, before you 
 attempt to ride again. But here comes moth- 
 er, ask her.' 
 
 ' No, no, I was only asking you ; I will 
 not ask her yet. Good bye, brother.' 
 
 The next day Rosamond found that she 
 could walk a little with a cane, and it was 
 with some difficulty she submitted to be kept 
 prisoner on the sofa. However, in the hope 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 167 
 
 that she should the sooner he ahle to ride, 
 she lay still. 
 
 The morning shone, and again the riding 
 party appeared ; and Godfrey, beside her sofa, 
 again wished her Good-bye, and hoped she 
 would be able to ride again very soon. 
 
 'Very soon,' said Rosamond; 'I long to 
 ride again.' 
 
 'I quite admire her spirit,' cried the trav- 
 eller's sister, drawing on her gloves, and walk- 
 ing out of the room as fast as the long swa- 
 things of her riding habit would permit. ' I 
 quite admire her spirit ! and I prophesy, she 
 will make a capital horsewoman.' 
 
168 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 'I always said so,' cried Godfrey, follow- 
 ing her, but paused at the door to hear what 
 Rosamond was saying. 
 
 ' How soon do you think, mother,' said Ro- 
 samond, ' that I shall be able to ride again V 
 
 'I do not know, my dear ; but whenever 
 you do ride again, I hope you will remember 
 your prudent resolutions.' 
 
 : O yes,' said Rosamond ; ' I shall never 
 forget the black lane.' 
 
 ' But you ought to forget it,' cried Godfrey, 
 ( or you never will be a good horsewoman as 
 long as you live, Rosamond, and you will be 
 a coward at last.' 
 
 With this denunciation, pronounced with 
 alarming emphasis, he shut the door, ran to 
 mount his horse, and an instant afterwards 
 Rosamond saw him galloping past the win- 
 dows. 
 
 1 1 hope I shall be able to ride to-morrow/ 
 said she to Laura ; ' and I hope I shall not 
 be a coward at last ; for after all, mother, 
 Godfrey would despise me if I were a cow- 
 ard ; so we must not think about the black 
 lane too much, mother.' 
 
 ' Not too much, my dear ; I would not make 
 you a coward, I would only make you pru- 
 dent, if I could.' 
 
 ' Prudent ! O yes. But, mother, did you 
 hear Godfrey's last words, that I ought quite 
 to forget the black lane, or I never shall be a 
 good horsewoman as long as I live V 
 
 ; Well, my dear,' said her mother, smiling 
 
ROSAMOND. 169 
 
 at the earnest look of alarm with which Ros- 
 amond repeated these words ; ' and even sup- 
 pose that terrible prophesy were to be accom- 
 plished, it is not the most dreadful thing that 
 could happen to you ; nor would it even be 
 the most glorious, if you accomplished the 
 lady's flattering prediction, and were to be- 
 come a most capital horsewoman.' 
 
 Rosamond, blushing a little, answered, that 
 indeed she had no ambition to be a capital 
 horsewoman, but she really thought a woman 
 ought not to be a coward. In this last asser- 
 tion she was uncontradicted by her mother. 
 
 Nothing more was said upon the subject at 
 this time ; but when the surgeon, who atten- 
 ded Rosamond, came, she asked very anx- 
 iously whether she might ride the next day 1 
 The surgeon advised against it, and gave her 
 several good reasons, to which, in her disap- 
 pointment, she did not much listen. The on- 
 ly words she retained were these, Whenever 
 you can walk without pain, then you may 
 safely venture to ride. No sooner was the 
 surgeon gone, than Rosamond began trying 
 how well she could walk ; and the occasional 
 remonstrances of Laura, Mrs. Egerton, and 
 her mother, were constantly answered with 
 ' Indeed it does not hurt me.' 
 
 The next morning when she got up, she as- 
 sured Laura, she could walk without pain — - 
 almost without pain. This however did not 
 appear so clearly in her countenance as in 
 
 VOL. II. 15 
 
170 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her words ; there was a wincing, every now 
 and then, which betrayed that she suffered. 
 
 1 This is quite foolish, very imprudent, Ro- 
 samond,' said her mother. 'You may per- 
 haps lame yourself for life, if you attempt in 
 this manner to walk before your ankle is 
 strong.' 
 
 1 My dear, be prudent,' said Mrs. Egerton, 
 1 and submit to lie still on the sofa a few days 
 longer.' 
 
 Rosamond, sighing, let herself be led back 
 to the sofa after breakfast, and there perhaps 
 she might quietly have remained all the mor- 
 ning ; but it happened, that at a time when 
 none of her guardians were beside her, God- 
 frey came in and whispered, that in conse- 
 quence of what she had told him yesterday, 
 that she could walk without pain, and that 
 she might ride whenever she could walk 
 without pain, he had ordered the pony to be 
 brought to the door, that she might try.' 
 
 Rosamond shook her head, and answered, 
 that she was afraid her mother would not be 
 pleased ; and that she was afraid Mrs. Eger- 
 ton would not be pleased ; and that, in short, 
 she believed it would not be prudent. 
 
 1 In short,' said Godfrey laughing, { you 
 are afraid, that's the plain fact.' 
 
 The lady who had prophesied that Rosa- 
 mond would be a capital rider, heard the 
 words, and smiled a little as in scorn ; and 
 after some more persuasions Rosamond con- 
 sented just to try whether it would hurt her 
 
ROSAMOND. 171 
 
 to put her foot in the stirrup. She went to 
 put on her habit, and not finding either her 
 mother or Laura, who had gone out to walk, 
 she excused herself to herself for doing what 
 she knew was imprudent, and what they 
 would not approve, by thinking, ' They are 
 too timid, too much afraid of me. I will on- 
 ly take one turn round the little back lawn ; 
 and the surgeon said that when I could walk 
 without pain I might ride ; and now it gives 
 me very little pain to walk.' 
 
 Thus cheating her conscience, and forget- 
 ting her prudent resolutions, Rosamond went 
 down stairs, crossing the hall quickly, lest 
 she should be stopped by Mrs. Egerton, whose 
 step she heard in a distant passage. God- 
 frey put her on the pony, and the lady whose 
 praise and prophesy had excited her so much, 
 looked out of the window, and admired her 
 spirit. 
 
 1 I am afraid it is imprudent,' thought Ro- 
 samond, ' but I cannot draw back now, it 
 would seem so cowardly. I will only go 
 once round this little lawn, and I shall be 
 home again in five minutes.' 
 
 As she went round the lawn, her ankle, she 
 said, did not hurt her much — ' that is, not 
 very much.' 
 
 As she came back, she was sorry, and a 
 little alarmed, when she saw her father and 
 mother standing at the hall door waiting for 
 her. Godfrey called out triumphantly, 'you 
 see I have brought her home quite safe.' 
 
172 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Rosamond would have added something, 
 but observing that both her father and mo- 
 ther looked very grave, she forgot the sen- 
 tence about the surgeon, which she had pre- 
 pared in her own defence, and could only say 
 1 I hope you are not displeased with me, mo- 
 ther 1 lam afraid, father, you are not pleased?' 
 
 Godfrey jumped from his horse, and ran to 
 take her down from the pony. 
 
 'My ankle,' said Rosamond, 'does not give 
 me any' — pain, she would have said, had not 
 her feelings at the moment, and the manner 
 in which she walked, or attempted to walk, 
 so contradicted the assertion, that she stopped 
 short, and indeed was forced to catch hold of 
 Godfrey's arm. Her father put him aside, 
 saying, ' Leave your sister to me, young man,' 
 in a tone which implied, ' you are not fit to 
 be trusted with her.' Then taking her up in 
 his arms, her father carried her to the library, 
 and to the sofa ; she all the time going on 
 with such apologies as she could make, more 
 for Godfrey than for herself. 
 
 ' It is not Godfrey's fault, it was all my 
 fault, indeed it was ; he held my bridle all the 
 time ; I told him it did not hurt me at all.' 
 
 ' It is very little satisfaction to me, that you 
 told him what was false,' said her father. 
 
 ' But I did not know it till afterwards, fa- 
 ther, till I took my foot out of the stirrup.' — 
 Then she got out her favorite sentence about 
 the surgeon, ending with an appeal to her 
 mother. ' You know, mother, he said I might 
 
ROSAMOND. 173 
 
 ride whenever I could walk without pain?' 
 
 ' But you know, Rosamond,' said her mo- 
 ther, in a tone which re-appealed to her con- 
 science, and required, in answer, the exact- 
 ness of truth, ' you know, Rosamond, that 
 you could not walk without pain.' 
 
 'Not without a little pain,' said Rosamond. 
 
 1 And you recollect, Rosamond, that I had 
 advised you not to attempt it, and you made 
 a great many wise reflections and resolutions, 
 and yet you went and did directly the con- 
 trary to that, which you were convinced was 
 best, the moment we left you.' 
 
 1 O Laura, my dear, I wish you had been 
 in our room when I went to put on my habit.' 
 
 ' How I wish I had not gone out, 'said Laura. 
 
 ' But, dear Laura, that was not your fault. 
 I only mean to say, mother, that if either of 
 you had been there, I would not have gone 
 without asking your advice and consent; and 
 one thing more I may say in my own defence.' 
 
 ' No, no, Rosamond,' interrupted her fath- 
 er, l let me hear no more childish defences 
 and excuses ; do not let me see you go back 
 to all the faults of your childhood.' 
 
 ' Say no more, say no more, my dear Ro- 
 samond,' whispered Godfrey, who stood in 
 great anxiety at the back of the sofa, as close 
 to her, and as quiet as possible. 
 
 ' You are no longer a child, Rosamond,' 
 continued her father, ' and therefore I am se- 
 riously concerned to find that you have so 
 little prudence and steadiness.' 
 
174 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' I assure you, my dear father, I never will 
 be so foolish, so imprudent again.' 
 
 ( What satisfaction, or what security, my 
 dear, can such assurances give me of your fu- 
 ture conduct V said her father. ' I judge by 
 actions, not by words.' 
 
 ' But such a trifling action!' said Rosamond. 
 ' Surely you would not seriously judge of me, 
 and be alarmed for my future conduct, by 
 such a trifling imprudence; especially when,' 
 — She stopped, for something in her father's 
 countenance warned her, that he knew what 
 she was going to add, and that it would not 
 
 avail. ' Especially when it has done no 
 
 harm, you were going to say V 
 
 ' Yes, that toas what I was going to say.' 
 
 And that was what Godfrey's looks had 
 been saying all the time. 
 
 1 Your having escaped, if you have escap- 
 ed, hurting your ankle, or doing yourself any 
 serious mischief, rather increases than lessens 
 my alarm,' said her father; 'because this 
 would encourage you to venture to be again 
 imprudent another time. You say, that I 
 need not be alarmed, and that I should not 
 judge of you by such a trifle ; nothing is a 
 trifle that marks an imprudent disposition in 
 a woman ; and by what can I judge of you 
 but by such things ? You are not called up- 
 on yet to make decisions for your own con- 
 duct in matters of consequence.' 
 
 ' I am sure I'm glad of it,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' But soon you will,' said her mother j ' and 
 
ROSAMOND. 175 
 
 consider, Rosamond, that then every trifling 
 imprudence may be of serious consequence — 
 irreparable consequence. If you are to be so 
 easily swayed from your better judgment, so 
 easily persuaded by any one who comes near 
 you, so easily excited by any foolish praise 
 or idle vanity, to act contrary to your own 
 resolutions, contrary to your conviction of 
 what is best, of what use will be all your 
 good sense, all your good dispositions, all 
 your good principles V 
 
 1 AIL my good education ! All you have 
 done for me !' said Rosamond. ' O mother !' 
 
 Tears now flowed so fast, that she could 
 say no more. 
 
 Godfrey then burst forth, * Father, I own 
 I thought you were wrong at first, and too 
 angry about a trifle ; but now I understand 
 your reasons and mother's ; and I think you 
 are quite right, and I was quite wrong ; and 
 I am sorry for it ; but you shall see, that now 
 and forevermore, I am fit to be trusted with 
 the care of my sister.' 
 
 ' I shall be glad of it, and still more glad 
 to see, that she can be trusted with the care 
 of herself,' said her father. 
 
 1 And I prophesy,' said Mrs. Egerton, who 
 had not till now spoken one word, ' I venture 
 to prophesy, that Rosamond, witli so much 
 candor, and so true a desire to improve, will 
 become a most prudent woman.' 
 
 { Rather a better prophesy for me,' said Ro- 
 samond, wiping away her tears and smiling, 
 
176 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 than that I shall, with so much spirit, be- 
 come a most capital rider. But my dear kind 
 Mrs. Egerton, you are too good to me ; the 
 worst, the most foolish thing I did, in this 
 whole business, you do not yet know. When 
 I heard your voice at a distance, I ran away, 
 lest you should see me, and advise me not to 
 
 go-' 
 
 ' That certainly was foolish, Rosamond : 
 but now you have told me the worst thing 
 you did, I must say that the best thing you 
 have done is to confess it so candidly,' said 
 Mrs. Egerton, kissing her. 
 
 'Don't flatter, don't spoil my daughter,' 
 said her father. ' Let me see that her candor 
 is not of the useless sort. Let me see that 
 she is not one of those, 
 
 • Who own their faults, but never mend.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 177 
 
 THE PALANQUIN. 
 
 Either from the pressure on Rosamond's 
 foot in riding, or from her precipitation in dis- 
 mounting, a fresh twist had been given to her 
 ankle. We pretend not to decide among dis- 
 puted causes ; the consequence was indisput- 
 able, that Rosamond was not able to walk a- 
 gain for a fortnight. But from almost all the 
 unfortunate circumstances of life, and even 
 from those evils which we have brought upon 
 ourselves, by our own fault or folly, some con- 
 soling, if not counterbalancing, good often a- 
 rises, or may be drawn by those who know 
 how to make use of the lessons of experience. 
 
 So it was with Rosamond. The amiable 
 temper she showed, the patience with which 
 she bore pain, disappointment and confine- 
 ment, increased the affection of all her friends, 
 and especially of her brother Godfrey. He, 
 considering himself as in a part the cause of 
 the blame and suffering she had incurred, was 
 peculiarly sensible of her good temper and 
 generosity, in never, directly or indirectly, re- 
 proaching or throwing on him any part of the 
 blame. Many little trials of temper, and 
 some trials of prudence occurred. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton put off her ball on Rosamond's 
 account for a week, but when the adjourned 
 day arrived, Rosamond's ankle was still weak. 
 She could stand indeed, she could walk, and 
 
178 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 she believed she could dance, yet she had the 
 prudence to forbear the attempt. She lay 
 quietly all the evening on her sofa; a passive 
 spectator of that ball, in which she had once 
 hoped to have been a most active, perhaps a 
 most admired performer ; for having had the 
 best of masters, having practised quadrilles 
 the last season in Loudon, with great dili- 
 gence and success, with some of the most 
 promising rising geniuses of the age, and of 
 the most fashionable names, Rosamond could 
 not but be aware, that she had great chance 
 of excelling any country competitors ; and of 
 being perhaps envied as well as admired for 
 her superior skill. But even here there were 
 counterbalancing advantages. 
 
 While she was a passive spectator, asitter- 
 by at this ball, she had opportunity of seeing, 
 hearing, observing, and feeling much, for 
 which otherwise she would have had no leis- 
 ure. At this ball, which Mrs. Egerton inten- 
 ded for her young friends, there were assem- 
 bled a great number of young ladies ; and 
 among these were two of Rosamond's London 
 acquaintance, who danced for fame, and dan- 
 ced exceedingly well. There were others, 
 who danced less well, but with more ease and 
 gaiety of heart ; and who were obviously 
 free from anxiety, jealousy, or envy. Rosa- 
 mond observed how much happier these were 
 than the exhibitors ; and further, she heard 
 the opinions of all the spectators near her, es- 
 pecially of her favorite traveller, who had seen 
 
ROSAMOND. 179 
 
 so much of the world. Whenever the exhib- 
 itors were dancing, the spectators pressed for- 
 ward to see them ; and after admiring and 
 criticising, with a freedom which astonished 
 Rosamond, they always ended by declaring, 
 that they preferred dancing which was quiet 
 and gentlewomanlike to that which was in it- 
 self superior, but which was evidently perfor- 
 med to produce effect, and excite admiration. 
 
 Rosamond attended anxiously when her 
 sister was spoken of ; and had the pleasure 
 of hearing several, who did not know how 
 much she was interested in what they were 
 saying, bestow approbation of the most grat- 
 ifying sort upon 'that graceful, modest young 
 person.' Rosamond had, more than once, the 
 satisfaction of answering, when asked, ' Do 
 you know that young lady V l Yes, sir, she 
 is my sister.' 
 
 A lady, who was sitting near the sofa on 
 which Rosamond lay, seemed to be attracted 
 by something in her countenance, and drew 
 nearer and nearer, till at last, by seizing the 
 vacated places of those who stood up to dance 
 or to talk, she obtained the seat next to the 
 arm of the sofa. 
 
 This lady was not young, nor very hand- 
 some, nor was she a person of fortune or 
 rank ; but she seemed one of the happiest in 
 the room. She had a most benevolent, cheer- 
 ful countenance, and took particular and de- 
 lighted interest in attending to some of the 
 dancers. She was a Mrs. Harte. In times 
 
180 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 long past, she had been governess to a sister 
 of Helen, who died ; and Mrs. Egerton, sen- 
 sible of her merit, had assisted in establishing 
 her in a school in the neighborhood. Many 
 of the young people who were at this ball 
 had been her pupils ; and Mrs. Egerton had 
 invited her, on purpose that she might have 
 the satisfaction of seeing them and their pa- 
 rents. The parents and the young people all 
 loved and respected her. When Rosamond 
 saw the aifectionate manner in which they 
 all came and spoke to Mrs. Harte, she could 
 not help being interested for her, though she 
 was a stranger to this lady. 
 
 Rosamond' s pleasure this evening chiefly 
 arose from her sympathy in these benevolent 
 feelings. Though her ankle at times gave 
 her pain, and though she was prevented from 
 dancing, of which, independently of all van- 
 ity, she was naturally and heartily fond, yet 
 she was very happy. As she observed to 
 Laura, when they went to rest, she was much 
 happier than she had been at the ball at the 
 Folliott Brown's, or on any occasion where 
 she had only enjoyed the triumphs, or mixed 
 in the petty competitions of vanity. 
 
 Mrs. Harte's young friends, in talking over 
 old times with her this night, recurred to 
 many ' very happy days 1 of their childhood ; 
 and among others they mentioned that time 
 when they acted a certain tiny play, which a 
 friend wrote on purpose for them, and which 
 they performed merely among themselves, 
 
ROSAMOND. 181 
 
 and for Mrs. Harte's amusement. Rosamond 
 wished to know the name of this tiny play. 
 The name did not promise much — The Dame 
 School Holiday. However, Rosamond's eyes 
 still expressing some wish to know more, Mrs 
 Harte obligingly offered to have it looked for, 
 promising that, if the prompter's mutilated 
 copy could be found, it should be sent to her 
 in the course of a week ; or that, if she could 
 wait so long as a fortnight, a perfect copy 
 should be made, which she might keep for 
 ever. Of course, she chose that, which might 
 be kept forever. 
 
 Next day, Rosamond told Godfrey of this 
 promise, and asked him whether he did not 
 think that a certain waste room in Egerton 
 Abbey would make a charming theatre 1 but 
 Godfrey argued ill from the title ; observed, 
 that a tiny play must be stupid ; and as to a 
 theatre, he had not time to think of it. God- 
 frey was then quite intent upon making a 
 palanquin, on which he and Laura might car- 
 ry Rosamond round the grounds, without in- 
 jury to her sprained ankle. 
 
 Rosamond would much rather have had 
 the play than the palanquin, she said ; but 
 Godfrey held to his purpose, and insisted up- 
 on it, that he would finish the palanquin ; 
 and she saw that she must be delighted with 
 it, though she confessed to Laura, she was 
 more afraid of being carried on it, than of 
 mounting the pony. As she justly observed, 
 it is really provoking to be forced to be oblig- 
 
182 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ed to a person for something which you would 
 rather he would not do ; especially when 
 there is something else that you wish very 
 much to have done. 
 
 1 It is a little trial of temper certainly,' said 
 her mother ; 'but such continually occur, ev- 
 en between the best friends ; and there is no 
 possibility of making or keeping good friends, 
 my dear, without such little sacrifices of the 
 fancies and humors. Either you, or your 
 brother, you see, must give up to the other 
 the fancy of the moment.' 
 
 ' Then I will give it up !' cried Rosamond. 
 'I will say no more to him about acting the 
 play, and I will be pleased with the palan- 
 quin he is making for me, if I can. If I 
 can, mother,' repeated she. 'You know, if 
 I really cannot like it, I must say so ; but 
 I will say it as kindly to Godfrey as I can.' 
 
 Rosamond refrained, though not without 
 some difficulty, from saying any thing more 
 to Godfrey about the play ; and he went on 
 working indefatigably at his own favorite 
 project ; till at length, with the assistance of 
 his father, and of a carpenter, and with an 
 old chair bottom, and two poles, Godfrey did 
 contrive to make a solid, safe, commodious 
 palanquin. Rosamond acknowledged it was 
 very well made ; and, without trembling 
 much, she suffered herself to be placed upon 
 it ; and when she had made this conquest of 
 herself she was soon delighted, even to God- 
 frey's complete satisfaction, with the palan- 
 
ROSAMOND. 183 
 
 quin, and with the palanquin bearers. Of 
 these she had many relays, for her patience 
 and good-humor, during her long confinement, 
 had so much interested every body at Eger- 
 ton Abbey in her favor, that all were eager 
 to offer their services ; and the orator once 
 stopped half way in a fine simile, and ran to 
 put his hands under her palanquin. In this 
 manner Rosamond was carried in triumph, as 
 Godfrey called it; but what was much better, 
 carried in kindness ; she enjoyed many a fine 
 day, and many a pleasant expedition. The 
 palanquin became her greatest delight ; and 
 Godfrey's satisfaction in his success, and in 
 his sister's obliging manner of accepting his 
 kindness, was at least equal to her pleasure. 
 
 ' How glad I am, mother, that I really and 
 truly do like the palanquin !' whispered she 
 to her mother one evening. ' I am glad that 
 I tried it fairly, instead of telling my brother 
 that I was sure I should never like it.' 
 
 ' But,' said the travelled lady, 'I have seen 
 such handsome palanquins ! I wish you had 
 seen such palanquins as I have seen !' 
 
 1 1 wish I had,' said Rosamond, 1 1 mean, I 
 am glad I have not ; for then perhaps I should 
 not like mine so well.' 
 
 ' It would be well enough if it had some- 
 thing like curtains; but really a palanquin 
 without curtains is little better than a hand- 
 barrow.' Rosamond looked at Godfrey, and 
 Godfrey looked at Rosamond, and they both 
 grew rather melancholy. 
 
184 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The next day Rosamond found the flies, 
 and the sun, and the dust, and the wind, very 
 troublesome : and Godfrey, after having in 
 vain contended that there was no wind, no 
 dust, no sun. and very few flies, grew angry, 
 and said something about the unreasonable- 
 ness of women, who were never satisfied ; and 
 made some allusion to a foolish princess in 
 the Arabian Tales, who grew dissatisfied with 
 her delightful palace, from the moment that 
 an old woman told her it. wanted a roc's egg. 
 
 Rosamond, vexed at this mixture of truth 
 and falsehood, justice and injustice, in her 
 brother's observations, declared that she could 
 no longer bear ' the sun shining so full in her 
 eyes.' Laura took off her green veil at this 
 moment and threw it over Rosamond's head, 
 whispering, as she tied it on, ' the sun was 
 as hot, and hotter than it is now, when I one 
 day saw Godfrey hard at work for hours, at 
 this palanquin, for you, Rosamond ; so I am 
 sure you will bear the sun in your eyes for 
 five minutes, rather than vex him.' 
 
 Rosamond immediately recollected herself, 
 and begging her palanquin bearers to stop for 
 one minute, placed herself with her back to 
 the sun, and assured Godfrey that she was 
 now quite comfortable ; and no further com- 
 plaints were heard of sun, wind, dust or flies. 
 
 Godfrey, as soon as they reached the house, 
 began to consult in secret with Laura, upon 
 the possibility and the best means of making 
 curtains to the palanquin. Now it happened 
 
ROSAMOND. 185 
 
 that Laura had bought some pretty green silk 
 with which she had intended to make bags for 
 two chiffonieres; but when she saw how 
 much Godfrey and Rosamond wished for the 
 palanquin curtains, she determined that she 
 would give up her piece-bags. Accordingly 
 she rose an hour and a half earlier than usual 
 the next morning, and the curtains were 
 made, and the rings sewn on, and the strings 
 too, before she was called to breakfast. 
 
 Godfrey was much delighted, for though 
 he had contrived how the curtains could very 
 easily be put up, and though he had provid- 
 ed himself with four brass rods belonging to 
 some old window blinds, which Dr. Egerton 
 had been so good as to say were at his ser- 
 vice, yet he had been quite at a loss for some- 
 thing of which to make the curtains. Mrs. 
 Egerton's stores, and the housekeeper's chests 
 had all been rummaged in vain. He never 
 knew however the extent of Laura's kind- 
 ness, till Rosamond saw the palanquin with 
 its curtains, when she immediately exclaimed, 
 ( O Laura, this is your doing ! you have given 
 me the silk that you intended for your chiffo- 
 nieres ; but I cannot bear to rob you of it.' 
 
 Laura, who knew how to do kindness so 
 as to prevent her friends from ever feeling un- 
 easy in the thought that they deprived her of 
 any pleasure, assured Rosamond that these 
 curtains might do just as well for her two 
 bags, after they had been used for the palan- 
 
 VOL. II. 16 
 
186 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 quin ; and that therefore she had more plea- 
 sure from her green silk, than she had ever 
 expected that this, or any other green silk, 
 could give her. 
 
 Rosamond, Godfrey, and Laura, were now 
 pleased with themselves and with each other, 
 as friends always are, when they feel that 
 they have each, even in trifles, borne and for- 
 borne from mutual kindness. 
 
 The travelled lady found many faults with 
 the manner in which the curtains were made, 
 and suggested several things which would be 
 necessary to make Rosamond's palanquin like 
 those which she had seen. In particular, a 
 tassel in the middle was indispensable. But 
 Rosamond smiled at Godfrey, and said, that 
 she was quite satisfied without the roc's egg. 
 
ROSAMOND. 187 
 
 THE FOREST DRIVE. 
 
 { The time will soon come, when you will 
 be able to ride again, Miss Rosamond,' said 
 the traveller's sister. But Rosamond never 
 attempted to ride till she could honestly walk 
 without pain ; and, when she rode, it was in 
 a manner which convinced her father, that 
 she was not one of those 
 
 Who own their faults,, but never mend. 
 
 The next time she came within sight of the 
 black lane, she permitted — no, let us do her 
 justice — she requested careful Richard to lead 
 her horse past the dangerous turn, even in the 
 face and front of all the remonstrances and 
 ridicule, which the traveller's sister threw, or 
 might have thrown, upon her want of spirit ; 
 even while a denunciation sounded on her 
 ear, that now she would ' never be a capital 
 horsewoman.' 
 
 Her father was satisfied in the main point 
 which he had in view, and which he knew to 
 be of so much consequence to his daughter's 
 future character and happiness ; quite satis- 
 fied, since she showed herself able to do stea- 
 dily what she believed to be best, without be- 
 ing influenced to the contrary by praise, per- 
 suasion, blame, or example. 
 
 After the traveller's sister had left Egerton 
 Abbey, and when there could no longer be any 
 
188 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 doubt of the motive, — when Rosamond had 
 proved that she had conquered her foolish am- 
 bition to be a distinguished and a desperate 
 lider, her father took her Avith him to the 
 black lane, and taught her to manage her 
 horse, so as to pass and repass in perfect safety. 
 
 Though the traveller's sister had left Eger- 
 ton Abbey, the traveller himself still remain- 
 ed, much to the satisfaction of all the young 
 people, as his varied conversation, full of in- 
 teresting information, made him a most agree- 
 able companion ; and he was so goodnatured 
 as to bestow much of his time and attention 
 upon Laura, Rosamond and Godfrey. 
 
 Rosamond, though now able to walk with- 
 out pain, was advised to avoid fatiguing her 
 ankle, which was not yet quite strong ; there- 
 fore she did not venture upon any long expe- 
 dition. One day, some walk too distant for 
 her had been proposed. Helen, Laura and 
 Godfrey, jointly and severally, offered to give 
 it up, and to take some shorter walk, which 
 Rosamond knew was not half so pretty ; and 
 a generous debate on the subject was warmly 
 commencing, when Mrs. Egerton moved that 
 Rosamond should accompany her in the gar- 
 den chair, as, she said, she particularly wished 
 for her company for one hour ; but she would 
 let her walk back with her younger friends. 
 
 The place of re-union was settled to be at 
 the old white gate into the forest ; and which- 
 ever of the parties should arrive first was to 
 wait for the other. This point being careful- 
 
ROSAMOND. 189 
 
 ly agreed upon, and very necessary it is to be 
 accurate in such agreements, for all who 
 would avoid disappointments and dissentions, 
 the parties set out on their different roads. 
 
 As Mrs. Egerton took the same way which 
 she had formerly gone, when they went to 
 see the paralytic woman, Rosamond said, c I 
 know now, my dear Mrs. Egerton, where we 
 are going ; and I am glad of it, for I long to 
 see that poor creature, and that grateful girl 
 again. Why would you never answer any 
 of my questions about them V 
 
 ' You shall have all your questions satis- 
 factorily answered presently, my dear,' said 
 Mrs. E. l You know you are lately grown 
 remarkable for patience 7 and since you will 
 not have your curiosity satisfied perhaps this 
 half hour, think of something else.' 
 
 ' How difficult it is to think of something 
 else, when one is bid to do it ! The other day, 
 when Godfrey insisted upon my never think- 
 ing of what colour Dr. Egerton' s new horse 
 was to be, I found that black, gray and brown 
 would flit before my eyes, till I drove them 
 away by an excellent expedient ; by trying 
 to recollect, and repeat to myself, some lines 
 which Laura and I had just been learning.' 
 
 1 Try the experiment again now,' said Mrs. 
 Egerton, ' and let me be the better for it.' 
 
 'But you know the poem, I am sure,' said 
 Rosamond. ' It is one of those translations 
 from the Arabic, which Dr. Egerton read to us, 
 the lines, you know, by the generous Hatem.' 
 
190 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' I have not the honor, nor pleasure of be- 
 ing acquainted with the generous Hatem.' 
 
 ' Is it possible, ma'am, you can have forgot- 
 ten him 1 
 
 1 1 never heard any lines about him, my 
 dear.' 
 
 1 True, I remember now that you were out 
 of the room, when they were read. Now, my 
 dear Mrs. Egerton, if you do not like them as 
 well as Laura and I do, I shall be sorry.' 
 
 ' Well, my love, let me hear them, and then 
 I can judge.' 
 
 1 But as you were not in the room when the 
 poem was read, perhaps you did not hear the 
 anecdotes of Hatem, which are given in the 
 preface to the poem, by the translator ; I for- 
 get his name, but I know he was a professor 
 of the Arabic, and from Cambridge.' 
 
 ' Well, never mind his name ; let me hear 
 what he says of Hatem,' said Mrs Egerton. 
 
 ' He says, ma'am, that his poems express- 
 ed the charms of beneficence, and his prac- 
 tice evinced that he wrote from the heart.' 
 
 ' That was well said of him and his poems, 
 but does he give any instance of his generos- 
 ity ?' 
 
 'He was,' continued Rosamond, 'in his 
 time, as famous for beneficence as the far-fa- 
 med Aboulcasem. It was common in the 
 East, when any person did a generous action, 
 to say ' he was as generous as Hatem.' One 
 of the anecdotes that he tells in proof of his 
 generosity is this : 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 191 
 
 1 The Emperor of Constantinople, having 
 neard much of Hatem's liberality, resolved to 
 make trial of it ; for this purpose he despatch- 
 ed a person from his court, to request a par- 
 ticular horse, which he knew the Arabian 
 prince valued above all his other possessions. 
 The officer arrived at Hatem's abode in a 
 dark tempestuous night, at a season when all 
 the horses were at pasture in the meadows. 
 He was received in a manner suitable to the 
 dignity of the imperial envoy, and treated 
 that night with the utmost hospitality. The 
 next day the officer delivered to Hatem his 
 message from the emperor. Hatem seemed 
 concerned. 'If,' said he, 'you had yesterday 
 apprized me of your errand, I should instant- 
 
192 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ly have complied with the emperor's request : 
 but the horse he asks is now no more. Be- 
 ing surprised by your sudden arrival,and hav- 
 ing nothing else to regale you with, I ordered 
 him to be killed and served up to you last 
 night for supper.' Hatem immediately order- 
 ed, that the finest horses he had yet remain- 
 ing should be brought, and begged the am- 
 bassador to present them to his master. The 
 emperor, as the history says, could not but 
 admire this mark of Hatem's generosity ; and 
 owned, that he truly merited the title of the 
 most liberal among men.' 
 
 Notwithstanding her wish to agree with 
 Rosamond in admiring Hatem's generosity, 
 Mrs. Egerton could not help regretting the 
 killing and eating of the fine horse. 
 
 Rosamond was averse to the eating ; but 
 thought the killing grand. In favor of the 
 eating too, it was to be observed, that the A- 
 rabians prefer the flesh of horses to any other 
 food. But even so, why should the ambas- 
 sador be regaled with this most valuable of 
 horses, which was so desired too by the em- 
 peror? Could not this ambassador have wait- 
 ed for his supper, while some of the other 
 horses were brought in from the meadows ? 
 
 It is not fair, Mrs. Egerton allowed, to try 
 Arabic actions by English laws; and she was 
 willing to allow, that ihis instance of Hatem's 
 liberality is curious, as a picture of Arabian 
 manners ; but as to the positive merit of the 
 generosity, she thought that was questionable. 
 
ROSAMOND. 193 
 
 This involved discussions on many other 
 points ; for instance, whether the merit of 
 generosity depends on the pain it costs, or the 
 pleasure it bestows j whether its merit de- 
 pends on the greatness of the sacrifice, or on 
 its utility ; whether it be true that our vir- 
 tues all depend on sacrifices of some of our 
 selfish feelings ; or whether it be true only, 
 that some of our virtues cannot be practised, 
 without requiring some such sacrifices. Wide 
 and deep subjects of thought were displayed 
 to Rosamond's inquiring mind ; her friend 
 just opened them, and left them there. 
 
 Meanwhile they had gone three miles on 
 the beaten road, and then had turned into the 
 forest ; and Rosamond, wakening to external 
 objects, found that she was in a pleasant 
 glade in the wood, within view of a cottage, 
 not that cottage in which she had formerly 
 seen the paralytic woman. This was in an- 
 other part of the forest, and in a less pictur- 
 esque situation perhaps ; but it was a more 
 comfortable looking dwelling, well thatched, 
 well glazed, and in neat repair. They got 
 out of their carriage, and walked to the cot- 
 tage. A man who was at work in the gar- 
 den threw down his spade, and came to meet 
 them. Mrs. Egerton asked this man, an hon- 
 est-faced, good-natured looking farmer, wheth- 
 er he and his wife were satisfied with their bar- 
 gain, and their new lodgers 1 c Quite satisfied,' 
 the man answered; ' and that all was going on, 
 and likely to go on well.' vol. ii. 17 
 
194 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 It was here that Mrs Egerton had settled 
 the paralytic woman, and the grateful girl. 
 The mistress of this house, who next appear- 
 ed at the door, was, as her countenance be- 
 -spoke her, and as her husband called her, as 
 good-tempered, kind-hearted a soul as ever 
 breathed ; as active and as notable a dame, 
 moreover, as the scolding hostess. This far- 
 mer and his wife were tenants of Dr. Egerton, 
 so that Mrs. Egerton was well acquainted 
 with their conduct and with all their affairs. 
 
 They had, she knew, been kind to a servant 
 girl, who had lived with them several years, 
 and who was just married, and who had left 
 them with their good-will, though much to 
 their inconvenience. From this experience 
 of their kind conduct (the only safe test) Mrs 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 lt)5 
 
 Egerton formed her expectations, that they 
 would behave well to those whom she placed 
 under their protection. And she took great 
 care, in making the agreement and arrange- 
 ments, that all should be for the reciprocal 
 advantage of the parties concerned, and that 
 all should be perfectly well understood. 
 
 The farmer's wife was often obliged to be 
 absent from home, at market, and wanted a 
 servant she could trust with her children ; the 
 grateful girl was just such a one as she need- 
 ed. The paralytic woman, having still the 
 use of her hands and her head, could be use- 
 ful also to the children, because she had a lit- 
 tle learning ; just as much as was not a dan- 
 gerous thing for poor children. She could 
 teach them to read and write, and a little a- 
 rithmetic; and she could teach the girls to 
 sew and to knit, and, as she said, even the 
 very thought that she could do something still, 
 and that she could be in any way useful to 
 those that took charge of her, was a great 
 ease to her mind, in her state ; sad state she 
 no longer called it. Rosamond now saw her 
 in a light, neat, comfortable room, and a bed 
 with sheets as white as snow ; and there she 
 was sitting with the children round her, one 
 knitting, or learning to knit, and another 
 reading to her. 
 
 The grateful girl, though she still looked as 
 if \\pa health required care, had no longer that 
 hectic flush and overworked appearance, nor 
 the expression of anxiety on her countenance, 
 
196 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 
 
 which had marked the depression on her 
 mind. She looked the picture, the reality of 
 happiness. 
 
 ' And O, madam Egerton ! "best of all !' said 
 she, ' thanks to you, for settling that I was 
 to pay for the room for her. Little as it is, 
 what a pleasure it is to me to be still earning 
 it for her.' 
 
 Mrs. Egerton had taken particular care that 
 this girl should still enjoy the satisfaction of 
 providing for the paralytic woman, for whom 
 she had so long worked witli such grateful 
 perseverance. It would have been easy to 
 have paid for the lodging, but this would have 
 been less real kindness than permitting her 
 
ROSAMOND. 197 
 
 still to feel that she exercised to good purpose 
 her kind affections ; on which kind affec- 
 tions, whether in health or sickness, riches or 
 poverty, whether in the highest or lowest 
 stations of life, so large a portion of the hap- 
 piness of human creatures depends. 
 
 Rosamond observed, that by judicious ar- 
 rangements much had been done for these 
 poor people, without Mrs. Egerton's having 
 given them, or having laid out much money ; 
 and she began to think, that it would be pos- 
 sible for her to do good, without possessing 
 the wealth of Hatem, of Aboulcasem, or of 
 the Polish Countess. 
 
 The walking party staid for Mrs. Egerton 
 at the white gate, as appointed ; a degree of 
 punctuality worth recording, because it is of 
 rare occurrence. Rosamond however, instead 
 of walking, as had been proposed, chose to go 
 home in the garden chair with Mrs. Egerton, 
 that she might talk to her, her thoughts being 
 still intent upon all they had seen in the cot- 
 tage, and especially on the happiness of the 
 grateful girl. 
 
 ' She is much happier than if she was rich,' 
 said Rosamond. ' I think the poor have in- 
 finitely greater opportunities of showing one 
 another affection, and kindness, and gratitude, 
 than the rich can ever have. Consider what 
 sacrifices they make every day to each other, 
 even of the necessaries of life. Our sacrifices 
 are nothing to these ; when we leave the fin- 
 est peach for our neighbor, as you did yester- 
 
198 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 day,' said Rosamond smiling, ' that may be 
 very polite, but there is no great generosity in 
 such things.' 
 
 ' Very true,' said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 c Then as to gratitude, it often happens, 
 that the persons to whom one feels the most 
 obliged are in a situation of life where one 
 can do nothing for them.' 
 
 ' There I differ from you, my dear.' 
 
 ' Why, my dear ma'am, for instance, what 
 can I do for you V 
 
 1 Have you forgotten, (I can never forget,) 
 all the kindness you showed me when I was 
 ill in London?' replied Mrs. Egerton; 'and I 
 know the whole of the Nine Days' Trial? 
 
 1 How could you know about that ] God- 
 frey must have told it you. That is just like 
 him, and I love him the better for it ; I don't 
 mean for telling it to praise me, but — ' 
 
 ' I understand you perfectly,' said Mrs. E. 
 
 ' But to return to what we were talking of,' 
 said Rosamond. ' These are such little proofs 
 of affection, such insignificant proofs of grat- 
 itude, compared with what the poor can and 
 io show each other.' 
 
 ' My dear Rosamond,' said Mrs. Egerton, 
 ' though in our rank of life we are not often 
 called upon to sacrifice the necessaries, or ev- 
 en the luxuries of life, to prove our gratitude; 
 yet we are often called upon for sacrifices of 
 our humors, our time, our pleasures, our self- 
 ish interests, in many ways; so that altogeth- 
 er, though the trials may be very different, 
 
ROSAMOND. 199 
 
 yet they are full as constant and as great. 
 For instance, I know in this neighborhood a 
 young lady of about Laura's age, who — ' 
 
 Mrs. E. stopped, and seemed considering. 
 
 ' Well, my dear Mrs. Egerton, pray go on. 
 You know a young lady in this neighborhood 
 about Laura's age. What is her name? Did 
 I ever see her 1 Shall I ever see her V 
 
 1 Her name is Louisa Dudtey. You have 
 never seen her ; but I think perhaps you may 
 see her ; and I was considering how we could 
 manage it.' 
 
 ' Thank you, thank you, ma'am. I recol- 
 lect hearing the name before. Miss Dudley ! 
 Louisa Dudley ! I remember now, that was 
 the name I heard you and Mrs. Harte, and 
 all those young ladies, repeat so often on the 
 night of the ball — Louisa Dudley, whom they 
 all wished so much had been there ; and 
 something was said about the reason why she 
 could not come ; something about the odd 
 tempers of the people she is with. Will you 
 tell me all about it, my dear ma'am V. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton smiled, and answered, that 
 now she had excited her curiosity she would 
 not tell her more ; but that she should either 
 see or hear more in a few days. ' And now,' 
 added Mrs. Egerton, ' to prevent your curi- 
 osity from preying upon you, amuse yourself 
 and me, my dear, by repeating those lines of 
 Hatem's.' 
 
200 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 MORNING VISITS. 
 
 ' Morning visits ! This whole morning to 
 be sacrificed to the returning of those visits !' 
 said Rosamond. ' This finest of days, which 
 I had laid out for finishing my view of the 
 Abbey ! How I hate morning visits !' 
 
 ' I do not love it more than you do, my 
 dear,' said her mother ; l and I wish that the 
 custom were laid aside ; but in living in soci- 
 ety, there are many little sacrifices we must 
 make to civility.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know that you, mother, must re- 
 turn the visits of all those people who called 
 upon you ; but why must I go V 
 
 ' Don't you recollect, my dear, that Mrs. 
 Egerton said, she particularly wished you 
 should go V 
 
 1 Has she any particular reason, I wonder?' 
 
 ' Is not her wish reason sufficient, without 
 further question ?' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Rosamond ; ' I am willing 
 to do any thing she wishes ; only ' 
 
 ' Only — you are not willing ; is that what 
 you mean to say, my dear V 
 
 1 No, no, mother, I was only thinking that 
 I could go out first, and just finish my view 
 of the cloisters, while the lights and shades 
 are on them so beautifully.' 
 
 1 But if you go out now, Rosamond, you 
 
ROSAMOND. 201 
 
 will not be ready when the carriage comes to 
 the door ; and yon know, Mrs. Egerton re- 
 quested that we should set out early V 
 
 Rosamond cast a lingering look out of the 
 window, and, still adhering to her portfolio 
 and walking very slowly towards the door, 
 said, 'must I then give up the whole morning?' 
 
 ' I have heard a proverb,' said her father, 
 looking up from the paper he was reading, 
 ' a latin proverb, which says, Who gives 
 promptly gives twice. This applies to the 
 gift of time, as well as to all other gifts. And 
 I should add, Who complies readily complies 
 in the only manner in which I would accept 
 of their compliance, either in a matter of con- 
 sequence or a trifle.' 
 
 Rosamond stood abashed. All thoughts of 
 the cloisters were promptly given up. She 
 vanished, and re-appeared in a few minutes, 
 ready to set out, even before the carriage 
 came to the door. 
 
 The round of necessary but tiresome visits 
 was duly paid, according to the list which 
 Rosamond's mother held in her hand ; and 
 when they came to the last on the list, and 
 when the joyful words Not at home had been 
 heard, and the cards, with corners duly dog's- 
 eared, had been delivered, Rosamond ex- 
 claimed, '" Home ; is not it, Mrs. Egerton V 
 
 1 No ; there is one other visit to be paid, 
 and six miles off,' said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 Rosamond's face lengthened, but shortened 
 
202 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 again the next instant, when Mrs. Egerton 
 added, l To Dudley Manor.' 
 
 ' Dudley Manor !' exclaimed Rosamond. 
 'Now I know why you wished me to accom- 
 pany you, dear Mrs. Egerton. I may always 
 trust to your intending some kindness, even 
 when you ask me to do what I don't like. — 
 Now I shall see that Louisa Dudley, whom 
 every body wished for so much at. the ball. 
 And now, my dear Mrs. Egerton, will you go 
 on with what you were going to tell me of 
 her the other day. You stopt short/, if you 
 recollect, just after you told me that she is a- 
 bout Laura's age. Is she like Laura I Pray 
 describe her.' 
 
 ' You will see her so soon, my dear,' an- 
 swered Mrs. E. ' that I may spare the descrip- 
 tion of eyes, nose, mouth and chin; especially 
 as all these, when most minutely described, 
 seldom give any idea of a countenance.' 
 
 'But is she like Laura in disposition, cha- 
 racter, manners, temper V 
 
 1 As to temper — to answer one question at 
 at a time' — said Mrs. Egerton, ' I cannot tell, 
 whether your sister's temper is as good as 
 her's. True, my dear, notwithstanding your 
 look of incredulity. I do not know, I assure 
 you, because I have never seen Laura's tem- 
 per put to such trials as I have seen miss 
 Dudley's, and I hope I never may.' 
 
 ' What sort of trials V said Rosamond. 
 ' Pray tell me some of them.' 
 
 ' Impossible to tell them to you, they are 
 
ROSAMOND. 203 
 
 such petty things ; they must be seen and felt 
 to be understood.' 
 
 1 But if they are such little things, surely 
 they might be easily borne.' 
 
 ' No ; little torments, continually reiterat- 
 ed, are, it is found, the most difficult of all 
 others to endure.' 
 
 ' Are the people she lives with fond of her?' 
 
 ' Yes, very fond of her.' 
 
 ' Then I do not pity her. I could bear any 
 thing from people who are fond of me.' 
 
 ( Stay till you try, my dear Rosamond,' 
 said her mother. 
 
 1 Stay till you see Mr. and Mrs. Dudley,' 
 said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 ' What sort of persons are they V 
 
 £ Excellent people, with good hearts, good 
 heads, good name, good fortune.' 
 
 1 O, I don't pity her !' cried Rosamond. 
 
 1 Good fortune, did I say ? I should have 
 said more than good — great fortune ; they 
 have, in short, every thing this world can af- 
 ford to make them happy : steeped up to the 
 lips in luxury.' 
 
 ' They are what are called hyp-o-chon-dri- 
 a-cal then, I suppose V said Rosamond. 
 
 1 Mental hyp-o-chon-dri-a-cism, perhaps, it 
 may be called,' said Mrs. Egerton ; ' they do 
 not imagine themselves ill, but they imagine 
 themselves unhappy. The fact is, they want 
 nothing in this world but temper.' 
 
 1 That is a sad want indeed ! but still — ' 
 
 1 But still,' repeated Mrs. Egerton smiling, 
 
204 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 you have never felt it, you cannot conceive 
 the misery.' 
 
 * Yes, I can conceive it,' said Rosamond ; 
 ' but still, if they are fond of one another — ' 
 
 ' They married for love,' said Mrs. Egerton, 
 ' and for aught I know they maybe, as many 
 people say, very fond of each other, in the 
 main, to this day ; but their love has all the 
 effects of hate, for they make one another as 
 unhappy as the bitterest enemies chained to- 
 gether could do. Their lives are, every day 
 and all day long, one scene of petty contra- 
 diction, opposition, dispute, taunt, and reply. 
 They were originally high-bred persons ; but 
 their tempers have so far got the better, or the 
 worse, of them, that they quite forget domes- 
 tic politeness ; and though they are well-bred 
 to all the world beside, are really ill-bred to 
 one another.' 
 
 c And does this appear before company too V 
 said Rosamond. ' And cannot Louisa Dud- 
 ley, if they are so fond of her, do any thing 
 to make affairs go on better V 
 
 ' She does every thing that is possible, but 
 all in vain. She cannot please one without 
 displeasing the other ; and their very fondness 
 for her proves a new source of jealousy, and 
 if not of open altercation, of secret taunt. 
 She gives up her amusements, her occupa- 
 tions, her will, her whole time, her liberty, to 
 them, and yet she can never succeed in mak- 
 ing them satisfied with her, or happy them- 
 selves, for one day, one hour.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 205 
 
 ( What a misfortune to have such a father 
 and mother !' said Rosamond. 
 
 'Mr. and Mrs. Dudley are not her father 
 and mother,' replied Mrs. Egerton ; ' they are 
 only distant relations to her.' 
 
 ' Then why does she live with them, if she 
 is not bound by duty V 
 
 ' She is bound to them, or she thinks her- 
 self bound to them, by gratitude,' said Mrs. 
 Egerton. ' They conferred some important 
 obligation, of what nature I do not know, on 
 Louisa Dudley, when she was a child, or up- 
 on her parents. As to the rest, she is quite 
 independent ; she will have a very consider- 
 able fortune ; her guardians are people of 
 fashion, who live in what are called the first 
 circles, and with whom she might reside if 
 she pleased ; but Mr. and Mrs. Dudley are 
 anxious to have her with them, and to them 
 she devotes herself in the manner you will see. 
 
 ' And, after all that Louisa does to prove her 
 gratitude and affection, there is always some 
 further petty proof required, c a cruel some- 
 thing.' For instance, they are jealous of her 
 regard for the good Mrs. Harte, by whom she 
 was educated. It was this jealousy and some 
 affront about Mrs. Harte' s visiting or being 
 visited, which put them out of temper, and 
 which at last prevented poor Louisa from com- 
 ing to our ball. I am now going to make a 
 propitiatory visit, in hopes of prevailing upon 
 Mrs. Dudley to come, or let Louisa come to 
 Egerton Abbey for a few days, while you are 
 
206 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 with ns ; I know that this would be such a 
 pleasure to her. And now that I have told 
 you this much, it is but fair to my friend 
 Louisa to assure you, that not the slightest 
 word of complaint ever came to me from her. 
 On the contrary, she is continually and zeal- 
 ously intent upon veiling all defects, and tur- 
 ning every thing Mr. and Mrs. Dudley say 
 and do to the best advantage. She treats 
 them with such respect, and her attachment 
 to them is so sincere and determined, that I 
 am convinced not one of her most intimate 
 friends, young or old, have ever ventured to 
 speak to her, or before her, of any of Mr. or 
 
ROSAMOND. 207 
 
 Mrs. Dudley's disagreements, or of her own 
 suffering from their faults.' 
 
 1 That is right, that is excellent,' said Ro- 
 samond. 
 
 When they drove up to the house at Dud- 
 ley Manor, Rosamond exclaimed, ' A beauti- 
 ful place ! an admirable house ! Italian front, 
 conservatory, trellice ! How happy people 
 might be here !' 
 
 If the length, breadth, or height of a room 
 could secure happiness, Mr. and Mrs. Dudley's 
 felicity would have been perfect ; but all 
 thoughts of their being happy was given up, 
 when their discontented faces and care-worn 
 figures appeared entering at opposite doors. 
 Their manners to their guests, to strangers 
 particularly, were so polite, their conversation 
 so pleasing, that for the first quarter of an 
 hour Rosamond, deceived by the charm of 
 good breeding, disbelieved or forgot all that 
 she had heard of their discontented dis- 
 positions. It was plain, that some grief sat 
 heavy at heart ; but that their unhappiness 
 could arise from faults of temper, the sweet 
 smiles of the lady, and the softened voice of 
 the gentleman, forbade her to think. When 
 miss Dudley was asked for, a cloud over the 
 lady's brow however appeared, and a cold- 
 ness and constraint towards Mrs. Egerton, but 
 to every body else in the room, she was more 
 particularly charming than before. 
 
 Louisa came in fresh from a walk, with 
 heightened colour, and with a countenance of 
 
208 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 cheerfulness and affection, which Rosamond 
 thought must set all to rights. For some little 
 time longer the conversation kept on smooth- 
 ly skating over the ice of ceremony, which 
 had not yet been broken. It is happy in these 
 cases, when strangers know nothing of the 
 dangers beneath. 
 
 Presently the conversation turned upon the 
 dance at Egerton Abbey. Mrs. Dudley piti- 
 ed Rosamond very much, as she said, for hav- 
 ing been confined to a sofa all night. 
 
 Rosamond was going to answer, that she 
 had been that evening happier than if she had 
 been dancing ; but afraid to mention Mrs. 
 Harte, whose conversation had so much in- 
 terested her, she gave but a bungling account 
 of her happiness, and left it to her mother 
 and Mrs. Egerton to finish her sentences. 
 But even Mrs. Egerton could not give satisfac- 
 tion in speaking of Mrs. Harte and the ball. 
 
 Much indeed was said by Mrs. Dudley in 
 praise of Mrs.Harte, and much was said of 
 Mrs. Dudley's concern that Louisa had missed 
 the opportunity of seeing a person to whom 
 she was so warmly attached, but her altered 
 and constrained voice and manner betrayed 
 her dissatisfaction. Even poor Louisa, who 
 had given up the ball, and the company of 
 her friend Mrs. Harte, did not seem to have 
 succeeded in pleasing. 
 
 While all this was going on, Mr.Dudley ut- 
 tered (sotto voce) as Rosamond, who sat near 
 him, heard, many sighs and pshaws. But he 
 
ROSAMOND. 209 
 
 was evidently in cordial good humor with 
 Louisa. He observed to Rosamond, that his 
 Louisa had the sweetest temper in the world ; 
 that the celebrated Serena was nothing to 
 her ; but he rejoiced, he significantly said, that 
 he was not the old father in the gout, whose 
 humors always crossed the heroine's pleas- 
 ures. The compressed lips and cleared throat 
 of Mrs. Dudley were now signs, that all was 
 going wrong with her. 
 
 Rosamond made an attempt to turn the 
 conversation to a harmless course, by asking 
 some question about the manner in which the 
 windows were fastened. 
 
 1 They are French windows, with espag- 
 nolettes said Mrs. Dudley. 
 
 Immediately stepping forward, with a de- 
 lighted and delightful smile, she opened and 
 shut the window, to show Rosamond bow ea- 
 sily these long bolts fastened both sides of the 
 the window at once. Rosamond was delight- 
 ed with them, and with herself, for having 
 given this happy turn to the conversation ; for 
 now, and for the first time for many minutes, 
 the lady looked really pleased ; but, turning 
 her eyes upon Mr. Dudley, who stood silent, 
 Rosamond saw that he was quite discomfited, 
 and in Louisa's face there was a look of re- 
 pressed apprehension. There is no knowing, 
 thought Rosamond, what may prove danger- 
 ous subjects with people who disagree. 
 
 The manner of opening and shutting these 
 
 VOL. II. 18 
 
210 
 
 EARLY LESSON'S. 
 
 windows happened to have been a subject of 
 daily altercation between Mr. and Mrs. Dud- 
 ley. She had always patronized, he had al- 
 ways detested, them ; and every stranger 
 was subject to being asked their opinion, and 
 could never escape giving offence one way or 
 the other. Mr. Dudley began by observing, 
 in a disdainful manner, that such things were 
 vastly well in summer, and in a warm cli- 
 mate, but that he owned he did not like mere 
 summer friends ; he was ' too English, he 
 confessed, for that? he liked well-fitted, well- 
 pullied English windows. Now Mrs. Dudley 
 liked every thing that was French. Here o- 
 pened a wide field of battle, each party bring- 
 
ROSAMOND. 211 
 
 ing all the forces of their understanding, and 
 knowledge of all sorts, (and very considera- 
 ble forces they were) in support, not of rea- 
 son but of opposite prejudices, and in the spi- 
 rit of contradiction. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton endeavored to commence, and 
 Rosamond's mother supported the praises of 
 an excellent Edinburgh Review, which had 
 then just appeared, on the comparative merits 
 of French and English inventions and indus- 
 try. The new and curious facts mentioned 
 delighted Louisa ; and, for a time, the new 
 interest excited by the question of who the 
 author of that review might be, suspended 
 the window debate. But the truce was of 
 short continuance, and hostilities recommenced 
 with renewed vigor. New materials supplied 
 fresh fuel to the flame. From industry, arts, 
 and sciences, they soon proceeded to manners, 
 morals, politics, French and English. 
 
 The gentleman and lady to be sure dealt 
 only in general assertions, but the particular 
 applications were too obvious. The implica- 
 tions and inuendoes became shockingly clear 
 and frequent, till the husband and wife no 
 longer talked to, but at each other, and soon it 
 came to ' all the cruel language of the eye.' 
 
 Rosamond, quite abashed, scarcely dared 
 to look at any body. From time to time, 
 however, she saw Louisa's varying colour, 
 which betrayed how much she felt while this 
 sort of conversation went on, and when fre- 
 quent appeals in the course of it were made 
 
212 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 to her testimony, her taste, or opinion. She 
 however preserved her presence of mind, and 
 answering always only as much as truth, 
 and as little as kindness required, her respect 
 for both recalling each to respect for the oth- 
 er, her genuine affection conciliated both, and 
 continually softened and covered all that was 
 wrong ; so that, as Rosamond described it af- 
 terwards, the company felt themselves bound, 
 under pain of hurting her feelings, not to see, 
 hear, or understand, that any thing unbecom- 
 ing or disagreeable had passed. 
 
 A collation, well deserving the epithet the 
 newspaper writers so often bestow, an elegant 
 collation, now appeared, and, gathering round 
 the table, all clouds seemed to have cleared 
 up and passed off, in a wonderful way ; and 
 Rosamond could scarcely believe that her 
 host and hostess, now most politely doing the 
 honors to their guests, in the most perfect u- 
 nison, and in good humor, or semblance of 
 good humor, were the persons between whom, 
 but a few minutes before, she had heard such 
 ' bitter taunt and keen reply.' ' Well,' tho't 
 she, ' perhaps, as Mrs. Egerton said, for aught 
 I know, these people love each other after all.' 
 
 Disenchanted from the constraint that had 
 seized upon her, Rosamond became quite at 
 ease and happy, especially when Mrs. Eger- 
 ton, seizing the propitious moment, apologized 
 successfully to Mrs. Dudley, for some affront 
 about a visit; and she and Mr. Dudley joined 
 in polite expressions of regard for the Eger- 
 
ROSAMOND. 213 
 
 ton family, regrets that their intercourse was 
 not more frequent, and ended with a most 
 cordial and pressing in treaty, that they would 
 fix a day for doing them the pleasure and 
 honor of dining at Dudley Manor. As this 
 was almost the only point on which the hus- 
 band and wife had agreed, and as they evi- 
 dently did coalesce in this wish, good Mrs. 
 Egerton was tempted to comply the more rea- 
 dily, because her compliance would give Lou- 
 isa satisfaction. All was now upon velvet ; 
 and even the ball and Mrs. Harte were men- 
 tioned, by Mrs. Dudley, with complacency. 
 
 Encouraged by Mrs. Dudley's smiles and 
 readiness to enter into the subject, Mrs. Eger- 
 ton now ventured to make her petition, ' that 
 she might have the pleasure of Louisa's com- 
 pany for one day during the time which Ro- 
 samond and all her friends were to stay at 
 Egerton Abbey.' 
 
 Mr. D. instantly acceded. ' By all means — 
 by all means, since you are so good as to give 
 us a day especially ; and I know it is the 
 thing of all others that Louisa wishes.' 
 
 Louisa did not deny it, but, coloring, look- 
 ed timidly towards Mrs. Dudley. 
 
 1 Pray, Louisa — pray, miss Dudley, do 
 whatever you wish ; do not, I beg, let me be 
 any restraint upon you,' said Mrs.D. ' If your 
 look means to look to me for consent, do me 
 the justice to believe that you are quite at lib- 
 erty. What objection can I possibly make V 
 
 Truly Louisa did not know ; but though the 
 
214 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 words were added, 7" am sure I make no objec- 
 tion, yet the words and the tone and the eyes 
 did not accord. Even Rosamond, who had 
 scarcely learnt the language of Mrs. Dudley's 
 countenance, could read this' much ; and Lou- 
 isa knew that she must give up her own 
 wishes, or that all would be wrong again. 
 She therefore declined Mrs. Egerton's invita- 
 tion, without saying any thing that was un- 
 true, and without appearing to make any sa- 
 crifice. In fact, she did, as she said, what, 
 upon the whole, was most agreeable to her, 
 for it was most agreeable to her to give up 
 any gratification of her own, to satisfy friends 
 to whom she felt herself obliged. 
 
 But after all they were not satisfied, for she 
 heard Mr. Dudley, in his soliloquy voice, say- 
 ing to himself, l in my opinion Louisa had 
 much better go. No use in these sacrifices : 
 nonsensical — nonsensical. For my part, I 
 own I like courage and sincerity.' 
 
 Louisa's hand trembled as she was dividing 
 a bunch of grapes with Rosamond, and she 
 could not cut them asunder. She did not 
 however quarrel even with the bluntness of 
 the grape scissars, she blamed only her own 
 awkwardness. The grapes were some of the 
 finest that ever were seen ; but Rosamond 
 eat them without knowing how they tasted ; 
 and a melting peach of the finest flavor, which 
 Mr. Dudley put on her plate, might have 
 been, what he scornfully called l a mere tur- 
 nip,' for any thing she knew to the contrary. 
 
ROSAMOND. 215 
 
 The carriage was ordered, and Rosamond 
 rejoiced when it came to the door. A few 
 minutes before their departure, as she was 
 standing opposite to the chimney piece with 
 Louisa, looking at a beautiful china cup, that 
 she had pointed out to her as Mrs. Dudley's 
 painting, Mr. D. came between them, and 
 said, l Do you go to Egerton Abbey V 
 
 1 No, sir !' answered Louisa. 
 
 c Pshaw ! how can you be so foolish ! quite 
 obstinate !' 
 
 Mrs. Dudley glided near Louisa, on the 
 other side, and observing her colour, and hear- 
 ing no answer to whatever Mr. Dudley had 
 suggested, she said, ' Why will you not go, 
 Louisa ? If you wish to oblige me, pray go. 
 Miss Rosamond wishes it so much, you see, 
 and Mrs. Egerton. Pray go.' As she took 
 the cup from Louisa's hand, and replaced it 
 on the mantlepiece, she added, ' sacrifices are 
 my detestation ; the feelings of the mind are 
 what I look to.' These were Mrs. Dudley's 
 last words ; and her last look a look of dis- 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Rosamond was the first to break the silence 
 that prevailed, as they drove from the door. 
 1 Goodbye, Dudley Manor !' said she. ' I did 
 not think it possible to be so unhappy in so 
 beautiful a place. What a difficult, what a 
 terrible thing it must be, mother, to live with 
 two such people ! to live with any people 
 who cannot agree ! It is absolutely impossi- 
 ble, as you said, Mrs. Egerton, to please them 
 
216 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 both at the same time. But what an angelic 
 temper Miss Dudley shows V 
 
 Almost all the way home Rosamond passed 
 in exhaling her indignation against Mr. and 
 Mrs. Dudley, and in expressing her pity, ad- 
 miration, and love of Louisa. Yet she would 
 not be Louisa for any thing upon earth. She 
 would rather, she declared, be the poor girl in 
 the cottage, serving the paralytic woman, and 
 having her services received and paid by kind 
 acceptance, good humor, and affection ; above 
 all, by seeing that she really made the happiness 
 of the person for whom she exerted herself. 
 But to be obliged to such a discontented per- 
 son asMrs.Dudley, and to live with people who 
 disagree eternally, how few could stand it '? 
 
 ' Not but I think Laura could,' added Ros- 
 amond. l But I am sure I could not; I would 
 much rather endure any great trials, the 
 greatest that could be invented ; there would 
 be some motive, some glory, some self-com- 
 placency to support one ; but these constant 
 little torments ! ' 
 
 'But these constant little torments,' said Mrs 
 Egerton, ''are those to which we, in our station 
 of life, are most likely to be exposed ; and I am 
 very sure you would learn to bear them, my 
 dear Rosamond, if it were necessary ; and 
 though I hope you may never be in such a situ- 
 ation as Louisa Dudley, yet you may be pretty 
 sure that, in the course of your life, you will be 
 obliged to submit to many little sacrifices of 
 your tastes and wishes ; and the temper 
 
90* 
 ROSAMOND. 217 
 
 which will make you support such trials is 
 more to be desired than even the wealth and 
 power of your favorite Polish Countess.' 
 
 THE BRACELET OF MEMORY. 
 
 1 Come down ! come down to the breakfast 
 room, my dear Rosamond, this instant,' cried 
 Godfrey. ' Make haste ; but make no noise 
 as you come into the room.' 
 
 ' Why, what can the matter be, brother V 
 said Rosamond, following him down stairs as 
 fast as she could. 
 
 1 Nothing is the matter,' replied Godfrey. — 
 1 Did I say anything was the matter ? Don't 
 let your imagination run away with you, as 
 usual ; if you do, you will be disappointed, 
 and find your mountain produce nothing but 
 a mouse. Take care you don't tumble down 
 stairs ; that is all you need be afraid of at 
 present.' 
 
 1 But pray, Godfrey,' said Rosamond, over- 
 taking him just as he reached the room-door, 
 1 do tell me before I go in why I should make- 
 no noise.' 
 
 1 Hush, hush ! follow me on tiptoe, and you; 
 shall see — what you shall see. 1 
 
 VOL. II. 19 
 
218 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Rosamond followed him as softly as she 
 could. She heard the word hush ! repeated 
 as she entered the room, and saw that every 
 body was standing round the breakfast table, 
 looking at something attentively. Joining 
 them, she found that they were looking at a 
 little mouse, which stood quite still, before 
 some crums of bread on the table, seeming to 
 be so much terrified as to be incapable of stir- 
 ring. 
 
 1 Poor thing ! how frightened it is !' whis- 
 pered Rosamond. ' Let me take it up in my 
 hand.' 
 
 The traveller drew her back as she was go- 
 ing to take it up. Godfrey bid her take care, 
 lest it should bite her, and Laura begged her 
 to stand still, and watch what the mouse 
 would do. Presently it turned its little head 
 from side to side, as mice are wont to do when 
 in dangers great ; its bright, round, and not 
 unthinking eyes, seemed to watch for an op- 
 portunity to escape. Hearing no noise, it ap- 
 peared to take courage, began to nibble at the 
 crums of bread, then, setting up its tail, ran 
 on a few steps to the right, then to the left, 
 then very quickly all round the table, regard- 
 less of the spectators, and even of the offici- 
 ous Godfrey, who moved every thing out of 
 the way before it. 
 
 But just as it was running past Rosamond, 
 Mrs. Egerton's cat, who had followed her in- 
 to the room, and unperceived had jumped up 
 on the chair behind her, darting forward, 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 219 
 
 sprang upon the mouse and caught it in her 
 mouth. A general cry was heard, loudest 
 from the traveller, who seized the cat by the 
 back of the neck, and forcing her to drop the 
 mouse into his hand, swung her out of the 
 room, and shut the door. 
 
 'Is the mouse hurt? is it dead?' cried 
 Rosamond, pressing forward to look at it. 
 
 ' No, it is safe, it is safe !' said the travel- 
 ler ; ' but this is the second time a cat has 
 nearly destroyed it. Look where its side was 
 bitten before.' 
 
 1 But it looks as if it were dead,' said Ros- 
 amond, going closer to look at it, as the trav- 
 
220 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 eller held it out, stretched on the palm of his 
 hand. 
 
 ' It is not alive certainly,' said Godfrey. 
 1 Touch it ; take it in your hand, Rosamond.' 
 
 She touched it, and exclaimed, ' It is not 
 alive ! It is cold ! It is stiff ! It is hard ! It is 
 not a real mouse.' 
 
 1 O, you have found that out at last !' said 
 Godfrey, laughing. ' You have been finely 
 taken in.' 
 
 ' No shame for her,' said Laura, ' since even 
 the best judge of mice, the cat, was deceived.' 
 
 Rosamond begged to see it move again. 
 The traveller took a key out of his pocket, 
 wound up some machinery concealed within- 
 side of the mouse, and setting it upon its legs 
 on the table, it again moved its apprehensive 
 head from side to side, nibbled, and ran its 
 course, to Rosamond's delight. 
 
 . l It is the most perfect imitation of a living 
 animal I ever saw,' said she. 
 
 ' Since you are so much pleased with my 
 mouse,' said the traveller, ' you shall see the 
 whole contents of my box of curiosities ; pro- 
 vided that if I unpack them, some one will 
 undertake to pack them up again carefully.' 
 
 Laura undertook to do this ; and after break- 
 fast, which was soon eaten, all gathered round 
 the traveller's box. And first he pulled out 
 abundance of wool and paper ; and fold with- 
 in fold of silver paper was opened, till, upon 
 a bed of cotton wool, appeared a large cater- 
 pillar, with gold and crimson rings. After 
 
ROSAMOND. 221 
 
 some magical operation had been performed 
 upon it, by its master, it was placed upon a 
 large leaf, and it raised its head and its tail, 
 after the manner of caterpillars, and showed 
 its many feet ; then walked deliberately on, 
 drawing ring within ring as it moved forward, 
 the circulation of its blood through each trans- 
 parent circle seeming to appear so plainly, that 
 it was scarcely possible to doubt its life. Its 
 master took it up, and stuck a pin under the 
 middle of its body ; it writhed and struggled, 
 moving its head and tail up and down in such 
 apparent agony, that it was painful to look at 
 it ; and it seemed cruel, as Rosamond said, to 
 keep it in such torture. Relieved from its im- 
 palement, the beautiful creature walked again 
 uninjured ; and Rosamond acknowledged that 
 the mouse was far surpassed by the caterpillar. 
 
 'You think nothing can exceed the caterpil- 
 lar, and perhaps you are right.' said the travel- 
 ler ; ' but look at this box,' added he, putting 
 into her hand a gold snuff-box, curiously 
 wrought. ' The chasing is rich, and this 
 enamelled picture in the lid is pretty.' 
 
 1 It is a view of Mont Blanc and the lake of 
 Geneva, is not it V said Rosamonds ' The 
 box is very pretty ; but ' . 
 
 As she pronounced the word but, the lid flew 
 open, and up sprang a bird, a tiny bird, not 
 half the size of the smallest of the feathered 
 tribe, in comparison with which the humming- 
 bird and the bee-bird would seem gross and 
 vulgar. Its body of the brightest blue, its 
 
222 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 wings canary colour, streaked and variegated. 
 It might be of the jay species ; but never jay 
 in all its glory, never jay in all its borrowed 
 feathers, ever shone with plumage so gay, so 
 brilliant ; each feather so perfect in itself ; the 
 whole in such shining order. Rosamond 
 could have looked at it for an hour ; but, in 
 an instant, it moves — it breathes — it spreads 
 its wings bedropped with gold — it raises its 
 head — it opens its beak — it stretches its neck 
 — it warbles, and you see the liquid motion in 
 the throat at every note it sings ! and with a 
 sound so clear, so strong, so sweet ! but ab- 
 rupt ! its song is ended : sudden it sinks down : 
 the prison lid of itself closes over it ! — to the 
 regret of all the spectators, all the audience, 
 and most to the regret of Rosamond. 
 
 ' Beautiful bird ! How far, far superior to the 
 caterpillar !' cried Rosamond. ' There never 
 was any thing equal to this since the time of 
 the talking bird and the singing tree in the 
 Arabian Nights, or sirce the days of Aboulca- 
 sem and his never-to-be-forgotten peacock. 
 But how far superior this delicate creature to 
 that peacock ! How wonderful, that human 
 ingenuity and perseverance can realize, and 
 more than realize, surpass the feats of genii 
 and the imagination of fairy land !' Rosamond 
 thought this, but could not find words to ex- 
 press her admiration. Again and again she 
 begged to see and hear the bird ; and repeated- 
 ly it rose, and sung unwearied, and sunk, obe- 
 dient, into its prison house ; till at last, asham- 
 
ROSAMOND. 223 
 
 ed of troubling it or its master more, Rosamond 
 refrained from asking for ' one other song.' 
 
 ' You think that nothing can surpass the 
 singing bird V said the traveller. 
 
 ' Nothing ! nothing !' replied Rosamond. 
 
 I We shall see,' said the traveller, searching 
 at the bottom of his box of wonders ; and, as 
 he drew out a common pasteboard trinket box, 
 she said to herself, ' Whatever this may be, he 
 should certainly have produced it before the 
 bird. It is impossible we can like it half as 
 well. I really have no curiosity to see it ; 
 but it would not be civil to tell him so.' 
 
 The traveller, with a provoking look of se- 
 curity and deliberation, shook from its cotton 
 and papers a golden bracelet, which Rosamond 
 received, as he put it into her hands, with a 
 look in which disappointment sadly contend- 
 ed with civility — sadly and vainly ! As the 
 gold chains hung from her hand, she observ- 
 ed that it was pretty , but that was all. 
 
 I I see,' said the traveller, ' that you have 
 not the taste which some young ladies have 
 for mere pretty useless ornaments.' 
 
 ' There was a time,' said her mother, 'when 
 Rosamond liked pretty useless things, but that 
 is completely past.' 
 
 1 I hope so,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Perhaps you may think differently of this 
 bracelet, when you have worn it,' said the 
 traveller. ' Give me leave to clasp it on your 
 arm ; you must wear it a few moments before 
 you can judge.' 
 
224 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 He put it on, while Rosamond looked supe- 
 rior down, and smiled. 
 
 ' Wait till the charm operates,' said he, 'and 
 you will prefer the bracelet to the bird.' 
 
 ' What charm V said Rosamond, looking at 
 Godfrey. ' The charm of vanity ? I hope you 
 have not so mean an opinion of me. I as- 
 sure you, that I infinitely prefer the bird to 
 all the bracelets' She stopt, and started. 
 
 1 It pricks me ! I felt it prick. Indeed, 
 Godfrey, it did prick me.' 
 
 1 Imagination !' said Godfrey. 
 
 c No imagination, brother. I wish you had 
 felt it. Look here,' said she, unclasping the 
 bracelet ; ' the red mark, do you see it on my 
 wrist ? Will you believe it now V 
 
ROSAMOND. 225 
 
 1 1 see it really, ' said Godfrey. ' Then if 
 it was not imagination, it must be conscience; 
 the prick of conscience.' 
 
 'As if it could be conscience ! But it almost 
 drew blood. Let me try it once more ; there 
 again I felt it' 
 
 ' It is the bracelet of conscience,' cried God- 
 frey. ' Look how she blushes !' 
 
 ' I blushed only from surprise, brother, as 
 any body might. But of what use ' 
 
 c It is ! It is the bracelet of conscience,' re- 
 peated Godfrey, laughing. 
 
 ' Only the bracelet of memory,' said the 
 traveller. ' Tell me, is there any thing you 
 wish to remember at a particular hour or min- 
 ute, this day ? and I will engage that the 
 prick of this talismanic bracelet shall remind 
 you of it, true to a second.' 
 
 ' Is it possible ? Let me see. Yes, there is 
 something I wish to remember to-day. You 
 know, Laura, at twelve o'clock — no, at half 
 past twelve, we are to go to see that poor 
 blind woman.' 
 
 The traveller took the bracelet into his own 
 hands ; what conjuration he performed was 
 not seen or heard ; but he clasped it again on 
 Rosamond's arm, and bid her wait the result 
 patiently. 
 
 Patiently, was too much to expect ; with 
 her wrist stiffened, and her eyes fixed alter- 
 nately upon the bracelet and upon the minute 
 hand of the traveller's watch, which he had 
 placed before her, she sat till the minutehand 
 
226 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 pointed to half past twelve ; and at that mo- 
 ment Rosamond, starting up, exclaimed, 
 
 ' It is so ! I felt it ! It is like the ring of 
 Prince Cherry in the Fairy Tales ! It is like 
 the ring of Am ura th in the Adventurer. Oh 
 how often, when I was a child, have I wished 
 for such a ring ! But is it possible ! How can 
 it be V The traveller touched a spring, and 
 the lid of the medallion of the bracelet open- 
 ing, discovered within, the dial-plate of a very 
 small watch. 
 
 ' It is an alarum,' said the traveller, ' that 
 can be set to the hour and minute required ; 
 so that, at a certain moment, the point which 
 you felt pricking you is pushed through this 
 scarcely visible hole withinside the bracelet, 
 where it touches the arm. The artist who 
 made it told me that it cost him infinite pains 
 to bring the mechanism within to the requis- 
 ite degree of precision. But at last, you see, 
 it perfectly succeeds, and I hope the lady for 
 whom it is intended will be pleased with this 
 ingenious trinket.' 
 
 ■ To be sure she must be pleased, and ex- 
 cessively pleased with it, or nothing in the 
 world could ever please her,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' Nothing in the world !' repeated Godfrey. 
 
 'Of this sort, I mean,' added Laura. 
 
 Rosamond asked the traveller who it was 
 that invented all these beautiful and ingen- 
 ious things, and where they were made ? — 
 He answered, that they were all invented and 
 executed at Geneva, by a clockmaker and 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 227 
 
 jeweller, who lived in a little dark shop up 
 seven flight of stairs, in a house difficult to 
 find, and to be found only after groping thro' 
 an obscure, long, covered, noisome passage. 
 Yet through this passage, and up these stairs, 
 every traveller, male or female, of any dis- 
 tinction, or of any curiosity, who has ever 
 passed through Geneva, has been drawn by 
 the fame of M. Bautte ! 
 
 Rosamond did not wonder at it. The tra- 
 veller declared, that his knees had often ached 
 in the service of his fair countrywomen, in 
 going up and down, seven times a day, these 
 seven flights of steep stone stairs. He said, 
 
228 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that he had been, in his last visit to Geneva, 
 overwhelmed with commissions, so that he 
 had been obliged absolutely to refuse to bring 
 over dozens of watches and necklaces, and 
 rings innumerable; he had not however been 
 able to resist the solicitations of a dear friend's 
 sister, who had begged him to take charge of 
 this little box of wonders. Rosamond was 
 right glad that he had been so good-rlatured. 
 
 ' And pray now, sir,' said the country gen- 
 tleman, who had been all this time standing 
 apart, engaged with the newspaper, ' may I, 
 without indiscretion, ask the price of these 
 wonders V The traveller answered, that 
 the caterpillar, as well as he recollected, was 
 thirty or forty guineas ; the bird, a hundred ; 
 and the bracelet sixty guineas.' 
 
 'Only sixty for the bracelet !' cried Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' Only /' repeated the country gentleman. 
 ' Only think of sixty guineas for a bracelet !' 
 
 ' It is a great deal to be sure,' said Rosa- 
 mond ; ' but I was surprised, that it was so 
 much less than the price of the bird.' 
 
 ' The bird a cool hundred ; the caterpillar, 
 say forty ; the bracelet, a great bargain, six- 
 ty guineas ; so there goes two hundred good 
 guineas of English money, to foreign parts, 
 for these gimcracks,' said the country gentle- 
 man ; ' and how many hundreds more will go, 
 think you, in the same way, out of England, 
 before the end of the year V 
 
 1 Thousands, not hundreds/ answered the 
 
ROSAMOND. 229 
 
 traveller, l and before the end of the month. 
 Don't sigh, man ! all the better for trade.' 
 
 ' Foreign trade, sir,' said the country gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 ' True,' said the traveller, ' but are not we 
 liberal citizens of the world V 
 
 1 No, sir, I am not what you call liberal,' 
 replied the country gentleman ; ' and I do not 
 pique myelf upon being a citizen of the world ; 
 I look at home first.' 
 
 ' And last,' said the traveller. 
 
 ' First and last, sir, I look, as it is my duty 
 to do, to my own concerns, to my own little 
 snug cell in the great beehive ; and, if every 
 one would do the same, I have a notion the 
 beehive would prosper. In short, without 
 tropes or figures, which after all are mostly 
 nonsense, I will confess to you, that I am 
 heartily glad that none of my girls, nor my 
 wife, happened to be at the unpacking of your 
 box ; if they had, I should have been cursed 
 with an importation of these wriggling cater- 
 pillars, and snuff-box singing birds, and prick- 
 ing bracelets, and no rational man alive can 
 guess how many more ingenious absurdities.' 
 
 Rosamond thought the word absurdities 
 was too strong — too hard. But the indignant 
 gentleman went on ■ — 
 
 ' It may be too severe, but I make it a prin- 
 ciple to discourage the taste for baubles in my 
 family, ingenious or not ingenious ; yet, after 
 all, it is astonishing what sums of money my 
 girls waste upon trinkets.' 
 
230 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The country gentleman here inveighed a- 
 gainst the general taste for luxuries, and told 
 anecdotes of several of his neighbors, or ac- 
 quaintance, who had been ruined by the expen- 
 sive habits of their wives and daughters. He 
 mentioned in particular one lady, whom he had 
 seen at a ball covered with diamonds, at a 
 time when her husband was in jail for her 
 debts. ' Yes, young lady, I remember, years 
 before, thinking what it would come to, when 
 I saw her buy one morning half a shop full of 
 your mighty ingenious baubles !' added he, 
 laying his hand on Rosamond's shoulder, who 
 was at this moment contemplating the cater- 
 pillar walking on the back of an opened packet 
 of letters, which the traveller was holding. 
 
 Rosamond, colouring, turned away to look 
 for Godfrey, who was standing behind her. 
 
 ' I know what you are thinking of, brother/ 
 whispered she, ' you are thinking of the purple 
 jar. But there is a great deal of difference be- 
 tween admiring what is ingenious and beau- 
 tiful, and having a taste for useless baubles, 
 or having habits of extravagance, I hope.' 
 
 ' I hope V echoed Godfrey, with a provoking 
 smile. 
 
 ' You hope, but I am sure of it,' said Rosa- 
 mond. l Do you think I forget my father's re- 
 fusing himself that fine picture the other day, 
 and all he said about the difference between 
 the taste for the pleasure of seeing pictures, for 
 instance, and a taste for the mere possession of 
 them ? This may be applied to other things. 
 
ROSAMOND. 231 
 
 'It may be applied, no doubt,' replied God- 
 frey. 
 
 ' May ! but do you not see, that it is appli- 
 ed by me in my own case V 
 
 1 What's your own case ?' said Godfrey. 
 ( I did not know you were in any case.' 
 
 ' Well ; but supposing I was in a case 
 where I was to judge and to act V 
 
 1 Why then we should see how you would 
 judge and act, my dear.' 
 
 1 Very well ; I who know what passes with- 
 inside of my own mind, better than you can 
 do with all your penetration, I know that I 
 have not the least wish, at this instant, to pos- 
 sess or purchase the caterpillar, bird, or' 
 
 ' Bracelet — she would have said, but con- 
 science pricked her in time,' cried Godfrey. 
 
 ' I confess I should wish to have the brace- 
 let,' said Rosamond ; { but I think I could re- 
 sist the temptation, and that is all that is ne- 
 cessary.' 
 
 ' Stay till you are tried,' said Godfrey, 
 ' and luckily for you that is not very likely 
 at present.' 
 
 This by-battle was interrupted by an excla- 
 mation from the traveller, who, starting up, 
 and throwing down one of the letters he had 
 just opened, cried, ' The most provoking wo- 
 man in the world ! After all the trouble I have 
 taken, she writes me word she has changed 
 her mind, and hopes I have not quite bought 
 the bracelet. Quite bought; what a lady-like 
 expression ! Because she has fallen in love 
 
232 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 with a hundred guinea cashmere, and she re* 
 ally must be economic and give up the brace- 
 let. How can any man, any reasonable crea- 
 ture, be prepared for these alternate hot and 
 cold fits of extravagance and economy ! But 
 no matter. She very obligingly tells me that 
 I must get it off her hands as well as I can, 
 and as soon as possible, if unluckily I have 
 quite bought it ; and her ladyship is my af- 
 fectionately obliged, <fec. But stay, here is a 
 postscript : ' If you cannot get it off your 
 hands, the best way will be to return it to M. 
 Bautte, who will, I am sure, take it back to 
 oblige me ; and, upon the whole, I must beg 
 that you would send it back, because, as I 
 have not it myself, I had much rather nobody 
 should have it in England, because ' 
 
 ' The rest is illegible ; ho, stay, here is a 
 scribble under the seal. ' Mr. Somebody of 
 Geneva, who is now in town, and who has 
 just been with me for my lord's pupils, sets 
 off for Geneva on Friday, and will take charge 
 of the bracelet, and of the whole business.' 
 
 5 For her lord's pupils ! What can that 
 mean ? I did not know her lord had any pu- 
 pils. Mrs. Egerton, Dr. Egerton, can you 
 guess what her ladyship means ? No, nobody 
 can guess, for she never knows herself above 
 half her own meaning, and that half she chan- 
 ges while her humble servants are puzzling a- 
 bout the other. But seriously here I am with 
 the bracelet of memory on my rash hands. 
 I cannot think of sending it back again to 
 
ROSAMOND. 233 
 
 Geneva, for it is bought — quite bought. But 
 as there is not another in England — not ano- 
 ther in the world — and,' added he, ironically 
 smiling at Rosamond, ' as it is only sixty 
 guineas, I think I am safe enough. It will 
 be off my hands before I have been twenty- 
 four hours in town ; it will be snatched out 
 of my hands by rival beauties.' 
 
 Rosamond put on the bracelet, and, looking 
 fondly at it, saying to herself, ' It is fortunate 
 for me that I have not sixty guineas, or God- 
 frey might be right after all. It would be such 
 a delightful thing to buy it to give to Laura, 
 who I know likes it as much as I do. She 
 said it was the prettiest and most ingenious 
 invention she ever saw, and the most useful 
 certainly ; but I have no money.' 
 
 With a sigh, she resigned the bracelet into 
 the hands of Laura, who, according to her 
 promise, was carefully packing up the box of 
 wonders. At the close of her soliloquy, Rosa- 
 mond looked up to see what Godfrey was 
 thinking of, but Godfrey had left the room. 
 She heard his voice on the lawn, speaking in 
 a tone of joy, and she ran to the window to 
 see who or what was arrived. 
 
 She saw on the lawn, before the hall door, 
 a beautiful little bright bay mare, at which 
 Godfrey and her father were looking, while a 
 rider by turns walked, trotted, and cantered the 
 mare, showing her gentleness, spirit, and fine 
 paces. Soon, Godfrey, sent by his father, came 
 vol. ii. 20 
 
234 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 in to Rosamond, and, seizing her arm, carried 
 her out along with him so rapidly that she could 
 hardly keep up with him. ' Fly ! fly ! my father 
 wants to speak to you directly, and I know 
 what he is going to say to you ; but I am not 
 to tell you. Indeed he did not tell me, but I 
 know, and I give you joy, Rosamond.' 
 
 Godfrey would have waited to see her joy, 
 tut his father sent him back, and desired that. 
 Rosamond should come alone. 
 
 { Very extraordinary !' thought Godfrey, 
 1 when I know the secret very well — that this 
 mare is intended for Rosamond.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 235 
 
 Rosamond had no idea that the horse was 
 for her, till she saw a servant coming out of 
 the stable yard, carrying a side-saddle. 
 
 1 Is it possible, my dear father !' she cried. 
 
 ' Yes, it is possible,' replied her father smil- 
 ing ; l it is possible, but it is not certain ; in- 
 deed, I scarcely think it is probable.' 
 
 Rosamond, afraid that she had taken too 
 much for granted, felt ashamed of having im- 
 agined that the horse was for her. Yet, when 
 the groom was ordered to draw the stirrup 
 up to the hole in which it was usually put for 
 Miss Rosamond, she was confirmed in her 
 first thought. 
 
 \ Go and put on your habit, my dear, and 
 you shall try this horse.' 
 
 No sooner said than done. Never was a 
 habit more quickly put on. But before she 
 was ' in her saddle set,' she had fifty alterna- 
 tions of hope and fear. 
 
 ' Pretty creature ! pretty creature !' said 
 she, patting its neck. ' What a beautiful 
 bright bay, and how delightfully she canters.' 
 
 ' All that a woman ever thinks of about a 
 horse is, whether it is a pretty colour, and 
 whether it canters well,' said her father. 
 
 ' But look how well she walks ; and she 
 has such an easy trot, I could trot forever up- 
 on her ; and she has such a fine mouth, that, 
 as Godfrey said of Helen's pony, she could be 
 ridden with a rein of worsted ; and it is such 
 a difficult thing, as Godfrey Says, to find a 
 lady's horse.' 
 
236 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Ladtfs horse ! Rosamond was a little asha- 
 med when the words sounded on her ear. and 
 she endeavored to mend the matter. ' I mean 
 a good horse, whether it is for a lady or not' 
 
 Her father smiled and was silent. What 
 could he be thinking of 1 
 
 1 Rosamond,' said he, 'this good horse was 
 intended for a lady's horse, and you are the 
 lady for whom it was intended.' 
 
 1 WasV 
 
 'Was,' repeated her father. 'Whether it 
 shall be yours or not depends upon your own 
 choice.' 
 
 ' My choice !' O, if it depends on my choice, 
 thank you, thank you, father ; I choose it 
 certainly.' 
 
 ' Stay, my dear ; choice implies the power 
 of judging between two things, and you must 
 hear to the end of my sentence before you can 
 decide ; you must know what the two things 
 are between which you are to decide. The 
 price of this horse is sixty guineas ; here is 
 the money ; you may lay it out as you please, 
 either in purchasing this horse, or in buying 
 the bracelet you saw this morning. Now take 
 your choice, my dear, and judge for yourself 
 
 Rosamond was quite silenced by surprise, 
 joy, gratitude, and by the sense of the impor- 
 tance of the decision she had to make. ' It is 
 no child's play,' thought she. ' Sixty guineas! 
 how very kind of my father to think of buy- 
 ing a horse for me, and such a horse !' 
 
 While she was on this horse, and riding 
 
ROSAMOND. 237 
 
 with her father, she felt little doubt of what 
 her choice would be. - The horse, the horse, 
 certainly the horse !' It would be such plea- 
 sure to ride with her father and with Godfrey, 
 and she should also be able to lend it to Lau- 
 ra, who would like it exceedingly. In short, 
 she was determined, quite determined, in fa- 
 vor of the horse ; but when her ride was fin- 
 ished, when she went into the library and 
 saw the box of wonders, packed but not yet 
 locked, she wished to look at the bracelet once 
 more — she stood pondering. 
 
 Godfrey, coming close to her, took hold of 
 the whip which she held in her hand. ' Well, 
 Rosamond, how do you like your new horse?' 
 
 ' Very much, brother, but ' 
 
 • But what ? I suppose she put up her ears, 
 and that you were afraid, and now ashamed 
 to tell us so ? hey V 
 
 ' No such thing.' 
 
 1 What then 1 What can make you look so 
 careful, so wondrous careful ?' 
 
 ' I have reason to look careful,' said Rosa- 
 mond, turning to Laura, ' for I have a great 
 judgment to make.' 
 
 Then she told them what had passed, and 
 asked their advice, adding, that she was al- 
 most determined to choose the horse, but that 
 she should like to look once more at the brace- 
 let, as the box was not locked, if it would not 
 be too much trouble to Laura to unpack it. 
 
 ' Not the least trouble,' said Laura, yet she 
 made no advance towards the box. ' No trow 
 
238 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ble to me to unpack it ; but I do not perceive 
 what advantage it can be to you to see the 
 bracelet again. You know as much now as 
 you can know about it. How can seeing it 
 again assist your judgment*?' 
 
 1 Fair play, fair play, Laura !' cried Godfrey. 
 ' If people do not see, how can they judge V 
 
 And so saying, with the traveller's leave, 
 he unpacked the box, reproduced the bracelet, 
 spread it before Rosamond's eyes, and finish- 
 ed by again clasping it on her wrist. 
 
 ' Now come away and leave her to judge 
 for herself,' said Laura, drawing Godfrey a- 
 way. 
 
 'No, no,' said Godfrey resisting ; l what a 
 pretty sort of judgment a person must have 
 who cannot decide when others are standing 
 by ! very useful it would be to them in the 
 course of their life ! But,' whispered he, ' I 
 think it is not quite fair that mother should 
 stand there, as she does, looking so anxious ; 
 that must disturb Rosamond's reflections ; and 
 if she decides only to please mother, or be- 
 cause she is afraid to give mother pain, there 
 will be no trial or proof of prudence.' 
 
 His mother went to the other end of the 
 room, and waited for Rosamond's decision, 
 without influencing her by word or look. 
 
 ' Remember, Rosamond,' said Godfrey, ' that 
 there are many horses in the world, many 
 such horses as that ;' pointing to the horse, 
 which the groom was leading past the win- 
 dow ; ' many hundred, thousand perhaps, 
 
ROSAMOND. 239 
 
 such horses as that, and only one such brace- 
 let as this ! Only one in the world ! — The 
 bracelet of memory — Le bracelet de souvenir, 
 if you like it better in French. And how yon 
 will show it in London to Miss This ! and 
 Lady T'other ! and how Miss This and La- 
 dy T'other will admire it ; and how they will 
 wish that heaven had blessed them with such 
 a bracelet ; and how they will envy you ! 
 and how often they will ask, if it is not pos- 
 sible that they could get such a one ! And 
 you will answer, ' that if they were to give 
 the world for it they could not get such ano- 
 ther, for it was made on purpose for you.' 
 
 These last words, which Godfrey pronoun- 
 ced in a marked tone of irony, recalled the 
 recollection of one of the adventures of Ros- 
 amond's childhood. She smiled and said, 
 Brother, I am not such a child, such a fool 
 as you think me.' 
 
 ' But seriously, Rosamond,' said he, ' con- 
 sider, as you said this morning, what a very 
 ingenious thing this bracelet is, like Prince 
 Cherry's ring, and Amurath's ring. And it 
 is not a bauble, but a talisman — a fairy talis- 
 man ; and I could make verses upon it, lines 
 addressed to a lady — 
 
 Fairy treasure — Fairest Fair — ' 
 
 Godfrey was silent for a few moments as 
 he walked Up and down the room, searching 
 perhaps for a rhyme to fair, but returning to 
 Rosamond, he went on. 
 
240 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' It is snch a very useful bracelet. Rosa- 
 mond. With the bracelet of memory yon can 
 never fail to do all your duties in this world, 
 and yon will always remember every thing 
 yon have to do punctually to an instant ; a 
 single prick will do the business.' 
 
 ' By the by,' said Laura, ' did you go to 
 the blind woman this morning, Rosamond V 
 
 1 1 did not indeed,' said Rosamond color- 
 ing, ' though the bracelet pricked me exactly 
 at the right moment.' 
 
 1 But this was only the first time — the first 
 prick,' said Godfrey. ' Very likely you will 
 mind it better the next time.' 
 
 ' That is not likely,' said Rosamond ; ' it 
 is more likely that I should grow quite used 
 to it, and indifferent to the prick. And after all, 
 a watch tells me just as well the right time, 
 for every thing I have to do. I flattered the 
 bracelet, or flattered myself, when I said it 
 was so very useful. The horse, no doubt, is far 
 the most useful. But there is one really good 
 argument in favor of the bracelet,' said she, 
 ' that it will last longer than the horse ; the 
 horse may die, may be lamed, may go blind, 
 and there will be an end of her.' 
 
 ' And you forget that you may break or 
 lose the bracelet,' said Laura. 
 
 ' True,' said Rosamond. 'There is not one 
 really good argument in favor of the bracelet. 
 1 have considered them all. Pack it up, Lau- 
 ra ; I have done with it. Thank you, my 
 dear father, I decide for the horse.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 241 
 
 Her decision was approved of by all pres- 
 ent, by Godfrey especially. ' I really did not 
 think you were so sensible, Rosamond,' said 
 he. ' Confess that my ironical arguments 
 helped you a little. As fast as I put weights 
 into the wrong scale of your mind, you were 
 forced to find others to balance them in the 
 right scale. Confess that, though I plagued 
 you, I was of some little use to you at last? 
 
 1 Of some little use,' said Rosamond smil- 
 ing. c You see, my dear mother, at last, that 
 with Godfrey's and Laura's assistance I am 
 not quite a fool.' 
 
 VOL. II. 21 
 
242 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 BLIND KATE. 
 
 While Rosamond was thus congratulating 
 her mother and herself upon her not being 
 quite a fool, Laura was repacking the box of 
 wonders. 
 
 In the haste in which Godfrey had unpacked 
 it, some brown paper at the bottom of the 
 bird box had been rumpled ; she took it up to 
 smooth it, and found underneath it a small 
 pamphlet, which, having been also much dis- 
 turbed, she took that out to set it to rights. 
 As soon as the traveller saw it, he exclaimed, 
 
 ' The very pamphlet I have been looking 
 for among all my packages, and could never 
 find ! I knew I had put it up remarkably 
 carefully, but I could npt recollect where, and 
 now I remember I put it into this box, that I 
 might get at it readily. It is the pamphlet 
 you desired me to bring to you, Dr. Egerton, 
 by Maunoir, the celebrated Genevese oculist j 
 i Memoires sur Vorganisation de Viris el lope- 
 ration de la pupille artificielle? And now I 
 recollect what Lady Scribble, as I may well 
 call her, meant by her lord's pupils, and the 
 name we could not decipher must be Maunoir.' 
 
 The traveller and Dr. Egerton began to 
 look over the pamphlet together, and Rosa- 
 mond approaching them listened anxiously. 
 
ROSAMOND. 243 
 
 She heard the traveller give an account of 
 a French emigrant officer, who had been ban- 
 ished by mistake to Siberia, where, in conse- 
 quence of the glare of the snows, he lost his 
 sight, continued fifteen years blind, and after 
 he recovered his liberty went from oculist to 
 oculist in vain, till at last Scarpa the famous 
 Italian surgeon sent him to Geneva, telling 
 him, that if any body in the world could serve 
 him it must be Maunoir of Geneva. To 
 Maunoir he went. After undergoing the dou- 
 ble operation of being couched for the cata- 
 ract, and of having new pupils made in his 
 eyes, he completely recovered his sight, and 
 in the course of two years sent to his bene- 
 factor views he had drawn for him of the 
 countries through which he had passed. The 
 traveller then gave a detailed account of the 
 operation of forming the new pupils. Sur- 
 prised at the profound attention with which 
 Rosamond listened to the account of a surgi- 
 cal operation, the traveller inquired why it 
 interested her so much ? 
 
 ' Because,' answered Rosamond, ' I am in 
 hopes of hearing something that may be use- 
 ful to a poor woman in this neighborhood — 
 Blind Kate. You may remember seeing her 
 one evening, when we were returning from a 
 walk, sitting on a stone before her door, and 
 a number of children round her, listening to 
 a story she was telling them. I recollect your 
 stopping to listen too, and your saying, How 
 beautiful that woman would be if she had 
 
244 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 eyes ! what a pity that she is blind V £ I re- 
 collect her perfectly well,' said the traveller. 
 1 She had a very interesting countenance.' 
 
 ' Yes, she interests every body who sees 
 her,' continued Rosamond, ' and much more 
 those who know her, and who know what a 
 sweet-tempered, cheerful, kind-hearted crea- 
 ture she is. All the little children of the 
 neighborhood are so fond of her, and all the 
 old people. If any of them are in sorrow 
 they always go to tell it to her, and she pities 
 them ; and if any good fortune befals any one 
 in the neighborhood, they go directly to tell it 
 to Blind Kate. This was the way we first 
 got acquainted with her.' 
 
 ' Which was the way?' interrupted Godfrey. 
 
 ' O never mind ; you know what I mean.' 
 said Rosamond. ' You remember, Laura, 
 when the paralytic woman was settled in her 
 new comfortable house, that good Mary went 
 for Blind Kate and brought her in, that she 
 might feel how comfortable it was. Such 
 pleasure appeared in her poor blind counten- 
 ance ! she seemed quite to forget her own 
 misfortunes. I remember her saying repeat- 
 edly, ' I am very glad to see you so comfort- 
 able ; it is the happiest day I have seen this 
 many a year.' Her only painful thought, she 
 says, is, that she can do nothing for anybody. 
 O how I wish I could do something for her !' 
 concluded Rosamond, c particularly as I for- 
 got to go to see her this morning. I should 
 be so glad to carry her some good news ! but 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 245 
 
 she has been couched, and it has done her no 
 good.' 
 
 To Rosamond's great satisfaction, the trav- 
 eller proposed going immediately to see Blind 
 Kate, that he might examine her eyes care- 
 fully, and determine whether there was any 
 probability that this operation would be of 
 use to her. 
 
 They found her in her cottage, surrounded 
 by children, whom she was teaching to plait 
 straw, which she did with great address. 
 
 ' It is my good young lady,' said Kate. ' I 
 knew she would come, though they told me 
 it was too late.' But hearing unusual foot- 
 steps, she rose, and stopt speaking. 
 
246 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 c I have brought my father, Kate, and a 
 good gentleman, who is come to see you, in 
 hopes of being of the greatest use to you.' 
 
 ' To me ! Thanks — many thanks to him ; 
 but see, I want nothing.' 
 
 1 Nothing, Kate !' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' How neatly you plait this straw,' said 
 Laura ; ' almost as well as any of the chil- 
 dren here.' 
 
 ' Better, a great deal,' said one of the elder 
 children. ' 'Twas she taught all of us, sir ; see 
 the difference, and it's wonderful all she does.' 
 
 The children went to fetch different things 
 she had made, and told of all she did in the 
 house, more, they said, than many that had 
 their eyesight. 
 
 ' But if she had her eyesight again, she 
 could do a great deal more, and she would be 
 a great deal happier ; would you not, Kate ?' 
 said Rosamond. * 
 
 * Ah, if I could but do more, I should be 
 happier surely,' said Kate ; ' that's all that 
 grieves me sometimes.' 
 
 The traveller inquired whether she had 
 been blind from her birth ? She answered, no. 
 That she had as good eyes as any in the par- 
 ish, in the world, she believed, till about nine 
 years ago, when she was a girl, a giddy girl 
 of fifteen. She lost them by her own fault. 
 
 ' Could you tell us how, if it is not too 
 painful?' asked Rosamond. 
 
 1 That I will ; I am always ready to tell a- 
 bout it, for a warning to the thoughtless/ she 
 
ROSAMOND. 247 
 
 saidj stroking the head of one of the girls who 
 was working near her. c It was one snowy 
 winter. I had been washing, and was hot, 
 all in a bath, and went out to look for a sheep 
 I had forgot to bring in, and that I heard bleat- 
 ing, as I thought, just in the next field ; but, 
 not finding it there, I went on and on, the 
 wind all the time very sharp and high blow- 
 ing in my face. I was out the greatest part 
 of the night, before I found the sheep ; but 
 next morning my eyes were as red as blood, 
 and that inflamation never ceased, do what I 
 would, or what the doctors would ; leeches, 
 bleeding, blistering, couching, every thing I 
 tried that they bid me, but all in vain ; the 
 inflamation never ceased for eighteen months 
 or more, and then left me, thank God ! free 
 from pain, but stone blind, as you see.' 
 
 From this account the traveller augured 
 well ; as Rosamond guessed by his counten- 
 ance ; but she impatiently begged him to 
 speak, and tell her what he thought. He asked 
 the poor woman to let him examine her eyes. 
 
 Upon a careful inspection the traveller gave 
 it as his opinion, that the sight might be re- 
 stored. Rosamond was exceedingly rejoiced, 
 and begged that her father would immediate- 
 ly have it effected. 
 
 1 But, Rosamond,' said her father, ' per- 
 haps Kate would not be willing to undergo 
 the operation.' 
 
 Rosamond endeavored to overrule this ob- 
 jection, by stating that she was .certain Kate 
 
248 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 would be willing to submit to any thing that 
 would enable her to regain her sight. ' And 
 you know, father, how delighted she must be 
 to view again the beauties of nature, and to 
 find herself no longer dependent upon the will 
 of others. 
 
 1 1 am not quite so certain, Rosamond,' said 
 her father, 'of the result which you anticipate ; 
 Kate has been many years shut out from the 
 participation of such feelings as you describe 
 and experience ; and though it is certainly a 
 great blessing to enjoy the full possession of 
 our faculties, yet habit has so accustomed her 
 to the deprivation, which, together with the 
 sympathy which is usually excited, so consol- 
 ing to the afflicted, that I question if her hap- 
 piness would be increased, by being again de- 
 prived of these consolations ; at present she is 
 an object of charity ; in possession of her sight, 
 that would comparatively cease, and her situ- 
 ation would be infinitely worse than before.' 
 
 Rosamond's countenance exhibited her sor- 
 row at this conclusion, and she expressed her 
 confidence that the same Providence would 
 Continue, that had hitherto sustained her. 
 
 1 You have not heard enough yet, Rosa- 
 mond,' said her father ; ' there are difficulties.' 
 
 ' What difficulties, sir ?' 
 
 1 There is but one person who can perform 
 the operation, from which only her cure can 
 be expected.' 
 
 { I know — 1 understand that perfectly, sir, ? 
 said Rosamond. ' The gentleman in the pam- 
 
ROSAMOND. 249 
 
 phlet — the gentleman mentioned in lady — la- 
 dy Scribble's letter. But you know, sir, that 
 letter said that he is now in London, and that 
 he is to stay there some days longer ; then if 
 Kate goes immediately, she may be in time.' 
 
 1 Perhaps so ; possibly,' said her father. — 
 1 But still there are other difficulties. You do 
 not seem to consider, that, to perform this 
 journey, and to pay an eminent surgeon, and 
 to pay for attendance and lodgings in London, 
 during the time she must remain there, before 
 she could safely travel again after the op- 
 eration' 
 
 1 And perhaps sea bathing afterwards may 
 be necessary,' said the traveller ; 'it was or- 
 dered I know in one instance.' 
 
 ' What a number of things to be thought of 
 that I never thought of,' said Rosamond, 
 sighing. ' But all this can be done, cannot 
 it 1 What should prevent it V 
 
 1 That which prevents many things from 
 being done in this poor world,' said the trav- 
 eller, ' the want of money.' 
 
 ' Is that all V said Rosamond. ' Would it 
 cost a great deal V 
 
 1 A great deal more than this poor woman 
 and all her family, and all her friends, could 
 afford.' 
 
 'But how much, how much?' said Rosa- 
 mond. ' Fifty or sixty guineas perhaps,' said 
 the traveller. 
 
 ' Just my horse,' cried Rosamond. ' You 
 have not paid for it yet, dear father. Will 
 
250 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 
 
 you give me leave to give it up ? and may I 
 use the money for Kate ?' 
 
 I You may, my dear daughter, you may, if 
 you will do it prudently ; take time.' 
 
 ' O yes ; I will be very prudent,' said Ros- 
 amond. ' But you know we have no time to 
 lose 3 Joy ! joy !' cried she, going back to 
 Kate, who started up at the sound. ' Joy ! 
 joy ! for now it is all settled ! all certain ! 
 and I will tell yon how it is to be. You are 
 to go to London directly.' 
 
 'Shall IV said Kate, with a bewildered air, 
 turning her head to the side whence Rosa- 
 mond's voice came. 
 
 ' Yes, you shall, good Kate ; listen to me, 
 and I will explain it all.' 
 
 I I am listening, my dear, as well as I can.' 
 1 Well, quietly sit down, here's your chair ; 
 
 but why do you tremble so, Kate V 
 
 ' I don't know.' 
 
 1 You need not tremble, Kate, for I have 
 nothing to tell you but good.' 
 
 { O, I am sure of that ; that is, I am sure 
 you mean me nothing but good,' said Kate. 
 1 It's foolish of me to tremble, but I am some- 
 times this way, when taken suddenly.' 
 
 ' Well,' continued Rosamond, speaking as 
 slowly as she could, ' you are to go to Lon- 
 don, and you shall be very well taken care of 
 on the road, and when you get to London we 
 will4ake care of what is to be done ; trust to 
 me, will you not, Kate?' 
 
 1 Trust to you ? O sure, yes. 1 have no mis- 
 
ROSAMOND. 251 
 
 trust in any, much less you, dear miss; but — ' 
 
 ' But — no but, Kate, till you have heard 
 the whole that is intended. We will not force 
 you to do any thing, even for your good, a- 
 gainst your will. Only hear me first, then 
 do as you please.' 
 
 ' Thanks, thanks V said Kate, stretching 
 out her neck in eager attention. 
 
 1 The operation,' resumed Rosamond, 
 
 'Don't be frightened at the word operation.' 
 
 ' Eh, no. I am used enough to more than 
 hear of it ; that's not frightening me.' 
 
 ' That's right, good Kate ; now you begin, 
 I see, to understand me. I will tell you how 
 it will be,' pursued Rosamond, going on with 
 great rapidity, f This day week, on this ve- 
 ry spot, you will stand there, and you will 
 see all in this room, as well as I see you now, 
 all the faces of these children. You will 
 never sigh again, Kate, nor say you can do 
 nothing for nobody.' 
 
 Kate started up, but^ 'Eh, dear!' cried she, 
 gasping. The swelled veins in her forehead 
 disappeared ; she grew pale suddenly, and 
 must have fallen if Laura had not support- 
 ed her. Rosamond, excessively frightened, 
 opened the window as soon as she could stir, 
 and water was brought, and air and water in 
 time restored the poor woman to herself. 
 
 1 Rosamond,' said her father, taking her a- 
 
 ^ide, ' you see how imprudent you were. Let 
 
 this teach you to be more cautious, and go 
 
 more reasonably to work in future. My dear, 
 
252 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 it is not only necessary to wish to do good, 
 but to know how to do it, else you injure those 
 you would serve. That is all I will say, your 
 own good sense will suggest the rest. Wipe 
 away those tears, they will do no good. Com- 
 pose and command yourself. You have be- 
 gun this, and must go through with it.' 
 
 Laura came to tell Rosamond that the poor 
 woman had repeatedly asked for her. 
 
 1 Go to her, my dear,' said her father ; l we 
 will leave you, and on our return from our 
 walk we will call for you, and by that time 
 you will, I hope, have considered well, and 
 determined what is to be done, and how it is 
 to be accomplished. You must arrange the 
 whole, and if I approve of your arrangements 
 I will give you any assistance in my power.' 
 
 ' And if you do not approve, you will tell 
 me how to do better. But I wish, father, you 
 would not go away, but advise me before- 
 hand, and then I should not do things wrong.' 
 
 ' If I always advised you beforehand, you 
 would never learn to do things rightly,' said 
 her father. 
 
 c But cannot you stay now, my dear father, 
 because this is a matter of real consequence, 
 and I am afraid of doing mischief, more mis- 
 chief.' 
 
 1 It is a matter of real consequence,' said 
 her father. ' But now that you are afraid of 
 doing mischief, and are aware of the danger,* 
 you will take care to avoid it. I leave you, 
 trusting that you will exert your good sense, 
 
ROSAMOND. 253 
 
 where the happiness of a human creature de- 
 pends so much upon your prudence.' 
 
 So saying, he went, taking Laura and the 
 traveller away with him. 
 
 Kate being now quite recovered, and a 
 neighbor having come in to stay with and 
 take care of her, Rosamond, left alone, sat 
 down in the porch, to consider what she ought 
 to do. She looked into the cottage, and saw- 
 Kate lying on her bed, and heard her say to 
 one of the children, that now they were alone 
 she would try to sleep, for that she felt 
 strangely tired, though she had done nothing 
 this day to tire her. 
 
 Rosamond made a sign to the children, to 
 prevent them from saying that she was there, 
 thinking, that the best thing that could be 
 done at this instant, was to let her sleep and 
 compose her mind, which had been so much 
 agitated. 
 
 While she slept, Rosamond sent one of the 
 children to the Abbey with a note to Mrs. 
 Egerton. The note requested, that Mrs. E., 
 who knew so well the characters of the people 
 in the neighborhood, would tell her who 
 would be a proper person to travel with and 
 take care of Blind Kate, if she were to be sent 
 to London, to have this operation performed. 
 The person Mrs. Egerton named in her an- 
 swer was a Mrs. Hand, the neighbor who 
 was at this time with Kate, who it seems had 
 for years lived near her, had been constantly 
 kind to her, and interested in her concerns. 
 
254 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 While she was sleeping, Rosamond, sitting 
 beside her bed, could talk in a low voice to 
 Mrs. Hand, and she made various inquiries 
 and arrangements that were necessary for 
 Kate's journey to London. 
 
 In the first place, Rosamond asked, wheth- 
 er Mrs. Hand would go with her ? 
 
 'Willingly,' replied she, 'only I have a fam- 
 ily of my own to look after, and my children's 
 and husband's meals must be cooked, and I 
 could not stay away a fortnight from them.' 
 
 This Rosamond easily settled, by offering 
 to pay a person whom Mrs. Hand would en- 
 gage to find. All the expenses of the journey 
 were next to be calculated and provided for ; 
 this also was accomplished, though not des- 
 patched with such haste as Rosamond could 
 have wished, for Mrs. Hand was mighty slow 
 and exact, and would not take a penny more 
 than was strictly necessary, though Rosamond 
 continually said it did not signify. 
 
 Next — tiresome woman ! she asked how 
 they were to go ? 
 
 ' How ! was any thing easier than to go to 
 London V exclaimed Rosamond. 
 
 ' Nothing easier,' said Mrs. Hand ; 'but still 
 I must know how. We may walk, or ride, or 
 go in the wagon, or in some sort of carriage.' 
 
 ' Ride or walk, impossible !' cried Rosamond. 
 1 Wagon ! that's quite out of the question, it 
 is so slow ; she must go in the coach.' 
 
 ' The coach ! What coach ? there are so 
 many stages and mails,' said Mrs. Hand. 
 
ROSAMOND. 255 
 
 And all the names of these, and all the pla- 
 ces from whence they set out, and at which 
 they put up, and their hours of setting out 
 and coming in, Mrs. Hand, whose brother 
 was an innkeeper, knew right well ; nor did 
 she spare Rosamond any one of these. 
 
 Much perplexed, Rosamond however, set- 
 ting her understanding to the business, at last 
 put out of the question all the coaches that 
 did not go at the right hours, that would set 
 out before Kate could be ready, and at length 
 came to a just decision in favor of a stage that 
 was to set out at six the next morning, and 
 in which two inside places could be secured. 
 
 1 So far so good,' quoth Mrs. Hand ; ' but 
 the next thing to be considered, Miss Rosa- 
 mond, is about where we are to go when we 
 are set down.' 
 
 ' Set down ?' 
 
 { Aye, set down in Lon'on town.' 
 
 1 Why is there any thing easier than to find 
 lodging in London when you have money V 
 
 1 Nothing easier than to get lodgings in 
 Lon'on for money, sure enough,' Mrs. Hand 
 said ; ' but where ? It would be as well to set- 
 tle that before they got to Lon'on, because 
 Lon'on is a great town,' as Mrs. H. observed ; 
 ' and it is awkward to be looking about late, 
 and not to know where to put one's head ; 
 just set down at the spot where the coach puts 
 up, in a strange place, among strangers, and 
 with a poor helpless blind body to be led in 
 the streets.' 
 
256 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 "Rosamond, when thus pressed, recollected 
 the very thing that would do. Laura's nurse 
 had married a green grocer in London, and 
 they had lodgings to let ; and nurse was an 
 excellent creature, and would be the very per- 
 son to take care of Kate and make them com- 
 fortable at her house. 
 
 Mrs. Hand was quite satisfied, as well she 
 might be. ' But where does she live V 
 
 Rosamond knew it was at a green-grocer's. 
 
 1 But lackaday. there are so many green- 
 grocers in Lon'on,' cried Mrs. Hand. 'What 
 street ? what's the number of the house V 
 
 The name of the street had gone clear out 
 of Rosamond's head, and the number along 
 with it. ' Yet,' as she said, ' she ought to 
 know both perfectly well, because they so of- 
 ten sent parcels there. 
 
 This however did not mend the matter, or 
 help Mrs. Hand to guess where it might be. 
 But Rosamond said she was sure Laura could 
 tell them the street and number both, because 
 fortunately she never forgot directions ; she 
 had a direction-book. 
 
 Rosamond must next settle about Kate's 
 clothes. Her neice Martha, who lived with 
 her, was in this matter of great use to Rosa- 
 mond, for she knew what Kate's clothes were 
 and where they were ; and she undertook to 
 have the two caps and the three neckerchiefs 
 washed and ironed, and to have all that was 
 to go put up nicely in a little bundle ; and 
 Rosamond desired her to set about it directly. 
 
ROSAMOND. 257 
 
 In setting about it directly, she was obliged 
 to open a closet door, close to Kate's bed. 
 Now this door, if opened boldly, made no noise, 
 but if opened by a timid hand it creaked the 
 more, the more you wished it not to creak. 
 And Martha, much afraid of wakening Kate, 
 began without the boldness so essential to 
 success, and creak, creak, creak, screech went 
 the door, and Kate (no wonder) wakened, and 
 starting up, said she was sorry to be awake- 
 ned from the pleasantest dream she ever had 
 in her days. ' She was dreaming that she 
 was in a green field, where she used to drive 
 home the cows in a summer's evening in her 
 youth, and she smelt and saw the cowslips, 
 saw as well as ever she did in her life : but 
 somehow it was all in London.' 
 
 The word London recalled what had pass- 
 ed before she had gone to sleep, and before 
 she had fainted ; and, as if not yet clearly a- 
 wake, asked who had been there, and if there 
 had not been some talking of her really going 
 to London, or if it was all only a dream ? 
 
 Rosamond then spoke, and assured her of 
 the truth of all she remembered. There was 
 no difficulty in disposing her to undertake the 
 journey now ; on the contrary, it was plain 
 that she wished it eagerly ; and though she 
 every now and then repeated, as if to quiet 
 herself, the same words she had said before... 
 ' Better for me to stay as I am. I am settled 
 to it now. Best for me not to hope again'.... 
 vol. ii. 22 
 
258 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Yet the expression of her countenance was 
 so different between the times of these des- 
 ponding sentences, and even in the moment 
 of pronouncing them, from what it had been 
 before, that it was obvious her mind had 
 changed, and that she would have been ex- 
 ceedingly sorry to be forced to give up this 
 new feeling of hope. 
 
 Rosamond now spoke with such good sense 
 and moderation, that she brought Kate's mind 
 nearly to a proper state between too much and 
 too little confidence, with resolution sufficient 
 to undertake the journey and undergo the 
 
ROSAMOND. 259 
 
 operation, yet without that ardent anticipa- 
 tion of joy, which, if disappointed, might be 
 dangerous to her health and happiness. 
 
 Kate ended at last with ' It is worth while, 
 surely, to go and make the trial, since this 
 good young lady can get it done for me. 
 Bless her for it ! How thankful I should be, 
 and happy, think, Martha, to see you and all 
 friends again. But, if it is not God's will that I 
 should enjoy my eyesight again, His will be 
 done. I am resigned, and shall settle to my af- 
 fliction again, with gratitude to you, dear Miss.' 
 
 Satisfied to have brought her to this reason- 
 able state, Rosamond judiciously determined 
 to say no more, and not to repeat what she 
 had already said sufficiently. This resolu- 
 tion it might have been as difficult to Rosa- 
 mond to keep as it appears to be to the gene- 
 rality of orators and moralists ; but fortunate- 
 ly she was not put to any desperately long 
 trial. Before she had quite exhausted her re- 
 sources in silence, before she had arranged 
 the old bows of Kate's black bonnet, so as to 
 make them look quite new for the journey, 
 her father returned, and relieved her from the 
 danger of doing or saying too much. 
 
 Her father approved of her arrangements. 
 There was no assistance wanted on his part, 
 except to change her sixty pounds bank note 
 into cash, and into smaller notes, for the con- 
 venience of the journey ; and this he went 
 home to do immediately ; Mrs. Hand follow- 
 ed them to receive the money. The traveller 
 
260 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 wrote a letter of introduction to the oculist, 
 and Rosamond, who now thought of every- 
 thing, wrote down the direction carefully. 
 She furnished Mrs. Hand also with a letter to 
 Laura's nurse, and made her read the direc- 
 tion to make sure of it — To Mrs Bristow, 
 No. 43 Boot-lane — 9 doors from the corner, on 
 the right hand side of the street, she would 
 add, though as this must depend, as Laura 
 observed, on the way you came into the lane, 
 it rather puzzled than explained the matter : 
 but now Rosamond had begun to be so exact, 
 she thought she could never give directions 
 enough. 
 
 Her father advised her to employ her time 
 in what was more necessary than giving a su- 
 perfluity of directions, in taking a list of the 
 numbers of the bank notes : with Laura's as- 
 sistance she accomplished this with accuracy. 
 
 In the morning Rosamond was up at six 
 o'clock, and with Godfrey was at Kate's cot- 
 tage, ready to bid her good-bye. and see her 
 safely off. But alas, when all were prepar- 
 ed, bundles and all, when the coach came to 
 the corner of the road where they were wait- 
 ing to be taken up, the coachman, instead of 
 stopping as they expected, drove past, saying 
 ' No places, no places, full, full.' 
 
 And when Godfrey roared to him to stop, 
 he only pulled up for an instant, and repeated 
 * No places.' 
 
 ' But two places were taken last night.' 
 
 1 Yes, sir, by the gentlemen in the coach.* 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 261 
 
 A fat man and a lean man alternately put 
 their heads out of the carriage window to con- 
 firm what the coachman said ; and without 
 waiting for further explanation drove on. 
 
 ' But did not yon send to take the places, 
 Rosamond V said Godfrey. 
 
 'No.' 
 
 Rosamond had taken it for granted that 
 Godfrey or that her father had engaged them. 
 But Godfrey said he had never thought of it, 
 because Rosamond had never asked him to 
 do it ; ' and as to my father/ added Godfrey, 
 ' you know he said you were to manage all 
 the business yourself.' 
 
262 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' What shall we do ?' cried Rosamond. 
 
 There was nothing to be done, Mrs. Hand 
 said, bat to wait till next day, and to be sure 
 to take places this day. 
 
 'But poor Kate! poor Kate!' said Rosa- 
 mond. ' O, perhaps she may lose every thing 
 by this mistake of mine ! O, Godfrey, what 
 shall I do ? Perhaps the man, M. Maunoir, 
 may have left London. Who knows what 
 the delay of this day may do !' 
 
 'Don't fret, don't fret so, dear miss Rosa- 
 mond,' said Kate, trying to get over her own 
 disappointment. ' I dare say we shall not be 
 too late to-morrow, and if we are, why I am 
 no worse than I have been this many a day, 
 and many a year. Don't let it grieve you, 
 my dear. We will go home, if you will give 
 me your arm, good Mrs. Hand, and you can 
 see your husband before you go, who is to be 
 back to-day, which will be a comfort to you, 
 and for me there is always Martha and the 
 children, and it is only one day. What dif- 
 ference can it make, dear miss Rosamond ? 
 Do not keep blaming yourself so, after giving 
 up your new horse and all for me !' 
 
 ' Dear, then it is a pity these places were 
 forgot, after all,' said Mrs. Hand ; 'how hap- 
 pened it, I wonder V 
 
 ' I know now it happened very well,' said 
 Rosamond, turning to Godfrey. ' I know it 
 was all my forgetfulness and folly. How 
 could I be so silly !' 
 
 Godfrey replied, that he could not pretend 
 
ROSAMOND. 263 
 
 to answer that question. But though he spoke 
 in a tone of irony, he was so much touched 
 with Rosamond's distress, candor, and peni- 
 tence, that he swallowed two sarcastical puns 
 which had been ready on his lips. He fore- 
 bore to tell her, that between her and Mrs. 
 Hand they had made but a bad hand of it. 
 He forebore to tell her that she was sending 
 Kate to Boot-lane on a bootless errand. 
 
 Pensive and silent, Rosamond retraced her 
 steps homeward. As she and Godfrey crossed 
 the lawn, out came cantering the pretty bay 
 horse, which the groom was leading back to 
 its owner, as he had been ordered to do this 
 morning. 
 
 1 My dear Rosamond, I do pity you now.' 
 
 Rosamond stopped to take a last look at 
 the horse, and said, ' I am afraid it will be 
 all in vain.' 
 
 ' Then had not we better stop the man, and 
 keep the horse ? for if you cannot do any 
 thing for the poor woman, do not give up the 
 horse. If you repent, now is your time to 
 speak. Every woman may change her mind 
 three times at the least, especially when she 
 repents.' 
 
 1 No generous person ever repents or changes 
 her mind about what she has given,' said Ro- 
 samond indignantly. ' No ; what I repent of 
 is only my folly ; and what I was thinking 
 
 of — what I am thinking of — is Will you 
 
 call to the man and stop him ?' 
 
 Godfrey roared, and the groom stopped. 
 
264 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Rosamond suggested, that as this man was 
 to pass through the neighboring town he might 
 inquire at the inn, whether a post chaise and 
 post horses could be had, as, if these could 
 be obtained, the day would not be lost, and 
 he should take places for to-morrow in the 
 stage, if no chaise could be had to-day. 
 
 ' Well thought of, Rosamond !' Godfrey 
 said he would not trust the matter to any one, 
 he would go himself, and he would bring her 
 back a chaise, if one could be had for love or 
 money. The groom dismounted, Godfrey 
 sprang into his seat, leaving him to convey 
 home the unpurchased horse as he might. 
 
 Rosamond, as he galloped off, thought, to 
 herself, ' though he does plague me some- 
 times, he is the kindest of brothers when it 
 comes to good earnest.' 
 
 An hour afterwards Godfrey returned in a 
 chaise, driving very fast. 
 
 ' But what strange man is that along with 
 him in the chaise ]' 
 
 He was a messenger going up to London 
 express with a prodigiously fine turtle, which 
 was to arrive in time for a great entertainment 
 at White's. He had taken the only chaise 
 that was to be had, every other being out at 
 some races ; and Godfrey, by the joint force 
 of his own eloquence and Rosamond's money, 
 which he knew her well enough not to spare, 
 succeeded in prevailing on this man to let 
 Kate and Mrs. Hand occupy the two vacant 
 places in his chaise. But he could not and 
 
ROSAMOND. 265 
 
 would not wait a minute. Nor was he kept 
 waiting one minute. Rosamond had prudent- 
 ly desired Kate and her guide to follow her 
 to Egerton Abbey. Godfrey jumped out, put 
 them into the carriage, and stowed their bun- 
 dles after them, and off they drove. 
 
 1 Really gone !' cried Rosamond. l Thank 
 you, my dear Godfrey, thank you ! I promise 
 you, that you shall be the very first person 
 that shall see the letter which Mrs. Hand has 
 engaged to write to me, the very night she 
 gets to London, or the day afterwards.' 
 
 ' The day afterwards I hope,' said Godfrey, 
 1 for this operation can hardly, I should think,. 
 be performed upon Blind Kate the moment 
 she steps out of the chaise, the night she gets 
 to town, and by candle-light too ! Besides, do* 
 pray allow that poor chip, Mrs. Hand, a night's 
 sleep before she pens this letter. I am sure^ 
 penning a letter will be laborious work to her.' 
 
 It was a laborious work to her, no doubt ; 
 but as Rosamond had laid great stress upon 
 her writing as soon as possible, if it were only 
 one line, Mrs. Hand, faithful to her promise, 
 wrote the night of her arrival, and her letter 
 was as follows : 
 
 Honored Miss, 
 
 Being- as you desired, I write to tell you that 
 
 I have nothing to say yet ; at best not being to 
 
 see the gentleman with the letter till morning. 
 
 The people of this house very civil, but knows 
 
 vol. ii. 23 
 
266 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 nothing of him. Whether gone out of town 
 or not carit say till morning. If so be that he 
 is not gone, shall see him first thing in the 
 morning, till when with Kate's duty to all, 
 who is asleep thank God and purely, am 
 honored miss, 
 yours to command till morning 
 
 Betty Hand. 
 
 1 Rosamond, my dear, I am much obliged 
 to you for the privilege of seeing this letter 
 first,' said Godfrey ; ' but I should have been 
 more obliged if there had been any thing in 
 it. This comes of insisting upon poor people 
 or rich people writing the instant they arrive. 
 Would it not be better to let them wait till 
 they have something to say? or at least till 
 they have slept off their stupidity — till morn- 
 ing, as Mrs. Hand says V 
 
 Another and another post came, and anoth- 
 er and another, and no letter for Rosamond. 
 Ten days passed, but on the eleventh morn- 
 ing Godfrey entered the breakfast room, hold- 
 ing a letter far above his head. Higher than 
 ever dancing-master made her spring, Rosa- 
 mond sprang up, seized it, tore it open, and 
 saw these words in large scrawling writing, 
 which filled the whole page, from corner to 
 corner : 
 
 My sight is restored, thank God ! Written 
 by me this 15th September. 
 
 Rosamond, happy beyond expression, with- 
 
ROSAMOND. 
 
 267 
 
 out uttering a syllable, took this paper to her 
 father, and to her mother, and to Mrs. Eger- 
 ton — to each and all of her friends, not forget- 
 ting the traveller. All congratulated her, 
 and sympathized in her joy. At the bottom 
 of the page were, in small good, but childish 
 hand-writing, the words, Turn over. 
 
 1 The rest of the letter of three pages is 
 written by nurse's daughter,' said Rosamond, 
 turning to Laura, ' whom you taught long 
 ago to write. Little did we think' 
 
 The rest of her moral reflection was lost in 
 empty air. The boiling water from the urn 
 
268 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ran over the table, for Laura had forgotten to 
 stop it as she rose to look at the writing. This 
 being set to rights by Mrs. Egerton, and no- 
 body scalded, and Rosamond in the mean time 
 having glanced her eyes over the letter which 
 was dictated by Kate, she put it into her 
 brother's hands, remembering her promise, 
 that he should have the first reading of the 
 first good news. He read as follows : — 
 
 To my dear good young lady, who, after God, 
 I have to thank for this great happiness. 
 
 I hope, my dear miss Rosamond, yon was 
 not uneasy at not hearing on Tuesday, which 
 was my faidt, for I would not let Mrs. Hand 
 or Ellen Bristoio write till I could pen the 
 first words of this letter my own self. The 
 gentleman ivas to have set out the day we saw 
 him, but was so kind as to stay for us. I was 
 not alloiued to do any thing till this morning, 
 for fear of hurting myself so soon after the 
 operation, but which did not deserve to be so 
 called, as it was no more pain than the prick 
 of a pin, and so quick, I cannot well tell what 
 it was like. 
 
 But, as you desired me to be particular, may 
 mention, that it ivas, to my mind, like a stretch- 
 ing and lifting up of a great weight ; and 
 that, being taken off, on a sudden, like a shot, 
 came back my eyesight ; and for the first 
 time these nine years, I saw the daylight, and 
 could not believe, at first, but it was a flash, 
 
ROSAMOND. 269 
 
 and would go again from me. Thank God! 
 no such thing happened. 
 
 The gentleman bid me say what I saio, if I 
 saw any thing before my eyes. I answered 
 that I saw three or four small branches, which 
 were the fingers of his hand that he held up 
 between me and the light, as I afterxvards 
 found. So he bound up my eyes, saying it 
 was all well, only I must be kept quiet for 
 some days ; and he ivas very glad to see me 
 so happy and thankful. 
 
 But, ma'am, I should have told you in the 
 beginning, as you desired me to describe the 
 gentleman, that he is a very kind spoken gen- 
 tleman, and speaks English so, that at the first 
 I did not know he had the misfortune to be 
 born a foreigner. And no Englishman born 
 could have spoke more tender, or behaved more 
 generous to the poor blind woman {as I was 
 then?) lie would not take half, nor a quarter, 
 of what you thought and intended for him. 
 So little indeed does it come to altogether, that 
 we could very well struggle and make it out 
 among ourselves, when the sheep is sold ; for 
 it is a great pity and trouble to me, to think 
 that you should give up that fine horse, my 
 dear miss Rosamond. Oh ! the trot of that 
 horse was going on in my ears all night, 
 whenever I was falling asleep. 
 
 Please give my love to all at home, particu- 
 larly Martha, and please to tell her that I had 
 all right. We have every thing hospitable 
 and comfortable here, as if we were princesses > 
 
270 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 in your good nurse's house, who is (as is naU 
 ural) very fond of you and yours, and I of 
 her and hers, especially of the daughter that 
 now holds the pen for me, and has as they 
 call it the pen of a ready ivriter. Thanks to 
 Laura, (interlined.) 
 
 This day eight days, please God, the gen- 
 tleman says if nothing happens to check me, 
 1 may set out on my journey homeward, and 
 all bandages are to be taken off, and I shall 
 see as well as ever ! I am sure I can never 
 be thankful enough, dear miss Rosamond, but 
 will say no more, hoping you vnll not be dis- 
 pleased by what I said about the horse, and 
 begging just one line about it. I am, my dear 
 good young lady, in haste to conclude,lest should 
 miss again this post, your very dutiful and 
 
 loving Kate, no longer Blind Kate. 
 
 No one who knows Rosamond can, we 
 trust, imagine that she would take back what 
 she gave, or let the sheep be sold to regain the 
 horse, however bright its bay, or black its 
 mane. She answered so as to show that it 
 must never more be thought of; and yet that 
 she was not displeased at its having been sug- 
 gested by the scrupulous honesty and grati- 
 tude of Kate. 
 
 ' Kate, no longer Blind Kate' — these words 
 sounded so delightfully, that Rosamond could 
 not forbear often repeating them aloud to her- 
 self in the course of the day. Her imagina- 
 tion, always lively, became ardently fixed 
 
ROSAMOND. 271 
 
 upon the idea of all that would happen on the 
 day and hour when this poor woman should 
 return to her family. 
 
 Her father found her sitting one morning 
 with her work hanging from her lap, with 
 her eyes fixed, and in so deep a reverie that 
 she did not perceive he was near her, till he 
 put his hand on her shoulder. Then she 
 started up, and in answer to her father's look, 
 which seemed to ask what she was thinking 
 of, she replied, 
 
 ' I was thinking only of Blind Kate, father, 
 that is, of Kate that is no longer blind.' 
 
 ' And may I ask what you were thinking 
 of her 1 What castles in Spain were you buil- 
 ding for Kate or for yourself?' 
 
 ■ I was not building any castles, father ; 
 quite the contrary.' 
 
 ' The contrary ! Pulling down castles then 
 that you had formed?' 
 
 ' No, nothing about castles, only about cot- 
 tages. I was imagining to myself exactly 
 how it will all be on Tuesday next when Kate 
 is to return to her cottage. I think I see her 
 and all the children, and hear every word and 
 look.' 
 
 ' And then if the reality does not come up 
 to these your bright imaginations, how disap- 
 pointed you will be, poor Rosamond. You 
 know how often that has happened to you in 
 other cases ? Do you recollect V 
 
 1 O yes, father, I recollect perfectly ; you 
 need not tell me of it ; but this is a different 
 
272 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 affair. I do not think I can be disappointed 
 here. In general, what you say is true, but 
 not in this instance, I think.' 
 
 S So, instead of judging by what she has 
 felt, or by general rules founded on general 
 experience, my wise daughter thinks it pru- 
 dent, or at least convenient, to make for her- 
 self a particular exception in each case.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Rosamond. ' But what 
 harm can it do me to form bright imagina- 
 tions ? You know, even if I am disappointed 
 at last in the reality, I have had secure all the 
 pleasure of the anticipation, and of the happy 
 imaginations.' 
 
 1 But you will consider that the happy im- 
 aginations pass away, and the realities, what- 
 ever they are, remain ; and if your bright 
 imaginations make you discontented with dull 
 realities, you will have but a bad chance for 
 happiness in this world. For instance, if you 
 imagine the gratitude of this poor woman, 
 and represent to yourself her words and ges- 
 tures, or manner ; perhaps you may be dis- 
 gusted afterwards by her homely expressions, 
 and you would become less kind to her, or, at 
 least, your kindness would cost you more ef- 
 fort. Those, who induldge in these fine rev- 
 eries, when they waken from them, find, that 
 the plain truth seldom is equal to, or rather 
 seldom resembles accurately any picturesque 
 or dramatic, or romantic description, or any 
 previous picture drawn by the fancy.' 
 
 1 That is possible — that is very likely,' said 
 
ROSAMOND. 273 
 
 Rosamond ; ' so I will try not to imagine any- 
 more about the matter ; and I will put away 
 my work, for I cannot help falling into these 
 reveries when I am at work, and have noth- 
 ing else to employ my thoughts.' 
 
 Rosamond next amused herself by going 
 round the library, searching out every poem 
 or novel or tale, in which there was any des- 
 cription of the feelings of the blind, beginning 
 with Milton's beautiful lamentation on his 
 blindness, and ending with Madame de Gen- 
 lis' Aveugle de Spa, Madame de Montolieu's 
 charming Leonora Aveugle, and the interest- 
 ing Blind Child without a name. Rosamond 
 collected these and many more on the table, 
 and read them with an avidity which left no 
 leisure for comparison of their merits. Her 
 father looked over some of them again with 
 her, and pointed out, or rather excited her to 
 consider and judge of what was natural, or 
 what was exaggerated in expression or des- 
 cription. And he observed, that many of the 
 heroines of romance speak in language too 
 refined for their conditions in life. 
 
 'I acknowledge, father,' said she, ' that it is 
 not very likely that all this should be said ov- 
 er again, especially by our poor Kate. And 
 I might, as you say, be disappointed, though 
 I could not be so unjust or absurd as to be an- 
 gry with her for not being as poetical or ele- 
 gant or sentimental as these.' 
 
 In truth and science there is always safe 
 and interesting employment for the minds of 
 
274 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 young people of ardent imaginations ; and on 
 every occasion Rosamond's father endeavored 
 to turn her attention from fiction to reality. 
 She read with him Chesclderts account of the 
 blind boy couched for the cataract, and vari- 
 ous other narratives of this kind ; searched in 
 every Cyclopedia for the articles blindness^ 
 cataract, couching, &c. and acquired all the 
 information she could upon this subject while 
 her interest was awakened, and gave motive 
 for application. 
 
 ' Thursday, Friday, Saturday,' said Rosa- 
 mond ; ' during these three last days I have 
 never once indulged myself, father, in any an- 
 ticipations or fancy pictures ; and now here is 
 a letter from Kate to tell me that she will not 
 come on Tuesday ; that is, not unless I de- 
 sire it particularly. She has not been so well 
 as she was, and she is advised to go to bathe 
 in the sea. She has plenty of money left, 
 that's one good thing. But then she will not 
 return here till we have left Egerton Abbey, 
 and I shall lose the pleasure of seeing her.' 
 
 It was a disappointment ! 
 
 It would have been a much greater disap- 
 pointment to Rosamond, but for her prudent 
 forbearance from bright anticipations during 
 the preceding Thursday, Friday, Saturday. 
 Nor did her prudence on this occasion tend to 
 lessen, but rather to increase her generosity ; 
 for now she never hesitated between the en- 
 joyment she might have had in seeing the 
 happiness she had caused, and the real bene- 
 
ROSAMOND. 275 
 
 fit to the poor woman's health, which was to 
 be expected from the delaying her return. 
 
 THE PRINT GALLERY. 
 
 1 My dear Godfrey !' exclaimed Rosamond, 
 as her brother came into the room one morn- 
 ing, ' how terribly tired you look ! and, beg- 
 ging your pardon, if one might say so. Mrs. 
 Egerton, without offending against 'domestic 
 politeness,' how uncommonly stupid he looks.' 
 
 ' The word uncommonly saves you,' said 
 Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 ' I may well look stupid/ said he. ' I am 
 indeed quite stu pitied, I have been studying 
 so hard V 
 
 * What have you been studying V 
 
 1 Greek and Latin,' replied Godfrey, ' and 
 grand things that gentlemen cannot be gentle- 
 men without knowing.' 
 
 ' 'Tis a pity then they are so tiresome to 
 gentlemen,' said Rosamond. 
 
 1 Tiresome ! my dear,' cried Godfrey in an 
 awakened tone—' tiresome only to learn, not 
 tiresome to know. So pray, Rosamond, tho' 
 I may look uncommonly -stupid, and though I 
 own I have oeen uncommonly dull in making 
 
276 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 out an uncommonly difficult passage, yet do 
 not fancy that I am like your old partner, 
 young Heavysides, and that I pronounce Ho- 
 mer and Horace, and classical literature, ' al- 
 together a bore.' But, ' dulce est d'tssipere' — 
 I beg pardon. I won't quote Latin to ladies, 
 as Folliott Brown would say.' 
 
 1 What is become of him, and of all the 
 Browns, I wonder V said Rosamond. 
 
 ' They are all abroad, in France I believe/ 
 said Godfrey ; ' but Folliott has dropped my 
 correspondence long since. I have heard no- 
 thing of them this great while. Do you know 
 any thing of them, Mrs. Egerton V 
 
 ' Yes ; but as I can tell you no good, ex- 
 cuse me from saying any thing.' 
 
 Then turning to Laura, who had been play- 
 ing on the pianoforte before Godfrey came in- 
 to the room, she begged her to sing again the 
 pretty song that she and Rosamond had been 
 singing. 
 
 ' Yes, pray do,' said Godfrey, ' music is re- 
 freshing when one is tired.' 
 
 ' Yes, and so useful in changing the course 
 of thought, and turning the attention from 
 any thing tiresome to something new,' said 
 Rosamond. 
 
 ' And when one can have it without any 
 trouble, and just for asking once for it,' said 
 Godfrey, going to the instrument. ' What I 
 like about Laura's voice and music is, that 
 they are always ready, and at the service of 
 her friends, and she does not tell you she is 
 
ROSAMOND. 277 
 
 not in voice, or that this does not suit her, or 
 the other does not suit her, or that she never 
 plays in the morning, 0* that she has not some 
 particular music book with her, or that she 
 has forgotten the words, or the tune, of every 
 song you ask for, Italian or English, but es- 
 pecially English. Now,' continued he, 'there 
 is some satisfaction in Laura's obliging way 
 of playing, though, I dare say, judges would 
 tell me, she does not play half as well as half 
 the young lady professors, and plagues.' 
 
 ' After this compliment,' said Laura, ' I am 
 bound to sing and play for you whatever you 
 please.' 
 
 ' Then begin with my favorite,' said God- 
 frey, ' The Son of Alknomook.' ' 
 
 Godfrey, with enthusiasm, joined Laura as 
 she played and sung — 
 
 The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, 
 But glory remains when their light fades away. 
 Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain ; 
 The son of Alknomook will never complain. 
 
 Remember the arrows he shot from his bow ; 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low. 
 Why so slow ? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain? 
 The son of Alknomook will never complain. 
 
 1 go to the land where my father is gone ; 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son. 
 Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain ; 
 And thy son, O Alknomook ! has scorned to complain. 
 
 Godfrey thought this was the real death- 
 song of an Indian chief, and was surprised 
 
278 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 when Mrs. Egerton assured him, that these 
 lines were written by an English lady. 
 
 Godfrey would not believe it ; he said it 
 might be a lady's translation, and he ac- 
 knowledged that it was a most spirited trans- 
 lation ; but he was sure it could not be any 
 woman's original composition.' 
 
 Mrs. Egerton took down a small volume of 
 poems from the bookcase, and showed God- 
 frey ' The Son of Alknomook,' and the fol- 
 lowing note at the end of it, which flashed 
 conviction in his face : — 
 
 ( The idea of this ballad was sugge&ted, sev- 
 eral years ago, by hearing a gentleman, Avho 
 had resided many years in America, among 
 the tribe called the Cherokees, sing a wild air, 
 which he assured me it was customary for 
 those people to chaunt with a barbarous jar- 
 gon, implying contempt for their enemies in the 
 moments of torture and death. I have endeav- 
 ored to give something of the characteristic 
 spirit and sentiment of those brave savages.' 
 
 1 1 ! but who is she V interrupted Godfrey. 
 
 * The widow of the celebrated John Hunter. 
 In this little book there are some lines of hers 
 in a different style,' continued Mrs. Egerton, 
 1 which I like particularly. But they are 
 perhaps too serious to please your young taste 
 as well as they do mine. , 
 
 Nevertheless, the young people unanimously 
 desired to hear them, and Mrs. Egerton read 
 aloud, from a poem addressed to ' A friend on 
 New Year's Day,' the following lines : — 
 
ROSAMOND. 279 
 
 Sudden to cease, or gently to decline, 
 
 O, Power of Mercy ! may the lot be mine : 
 
 Let me not linger on the verge of fate, 
 
 Nor weary duty to its utmost date ; 
 
 Losing, in pain's impatient gloom confined, 
 
 Freedom of thought, and dignity of mind ; 
 
 Till pity views, untouched, the parting breath, 
 
 And cold indifference adds a pang to death. 
 
 Yet, if to suffer long my doom is pass'd, 
 
 Let me preserve this temper to the last. 
 
 O let me still from self my feelings bear, 
 
 To sympathize with sorrow's starting tear ; 
 
 Nor sadden at the smile which joy bestows, 
 
 Though far from me her beam ethereal glows. 
 
 Let me remember in the gloom of age, 
 
 To smile at follies happier youth engage, 
 
 See them fallacious, but indulgent spare 
 
 The fairy dreams experience cannot share : 
 
 Nor view the rising morn with jaundiced eye, 
 
 Because, for me, no more the sparkling moments fly. 
 
 These lines touched Rosamond particularly, 
 because she felt how strongly they were ap- 
 plicable to Mrs. Egerton herself, whose amia- 
 ble temper made her, in age, ever ready to 
 sympathize with the follies and pleasures of 
 youth. Some other serious reflections, excited 
 in Rosamond's mind, made her silent for sev- 
 eral minutes. These reflections were inter- 
 rupted by Dr. Egerton's summoning them all 
 to look at some new engravings, which he was 
 putting up in the print gallery. In this gal- 
 lery he had a collection of the portraits of cel- 
 ebrated people, with many of whom Rosamond 
 was well acquainted ; but she now consider- 
 ed them in a new point of view ; and, recur- 
 
280 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ring to the reflections in which she had just 
 been interrupted, she observed to Laura, how 
 few of these great people had been happy 
 both in youth and age. While Rosamond 
 was reviewing these portraits, Godfrey asked 
 her this puzzling question : 
 
 c Which of all the women most famed in 
 ancient or modern history would you rather 
 have been V 
 
 'What an immense question !' said Rosa- 
 mond. ' I don" t know where to begin. How 
 far am I to go back 1 In ancient history, let 
 me see, there is old Pe-nel-o-pe." 
 
 ' I am not quite sure that she did right a- 
 bout the suitors,' said Godfrey. c She might 
 I think have got rid of those gentlemen soon- 
 er ; indeed I do not know why she let them 
 come at all.' 
 
 ' O, Godfrey, let poor Penelope pass with- 
 out scandal,' said Laura. 
 
 ' Yet upon the whole I would rather be An- 
 drom-a-che than Penelope,' said Rosamond, 
 moving to the print of Andromache and Hec- 
 tor. ' As far as I know, Andromache was 
 perfect. But then I know but little of her, or 
 of any of these ancient heroines.' 
 
 1 My dear, that is your own fault, for even 
 you ladies may know a good deal of these an- 
 cient heroines, as you call them, from the 
 translations of Soph-o-cles, Eu-rip-i-des, and 
 Es-chy-lus.' 
 
 1 Not enough to judge of their characters 
 entirely,' continued Rosamond. ' And though 
 
ROSAMOND. 281 
 
 I admire Iphigenia exceedingly, and still more 
 An-tig-o-ne, and though some others are very 
 grand, yet still their ways of life, and their 
 ideas of virtue, and their religion, were so 
 different from ours, that I can't judge of them 
 rightly. I could not wish to be any of these 
 heroines.' 
 
 ' Then go on to the Roman history,' said 
 Godfrey. ' There are Lucretia, and Virginia, 
 and the heroic Portia, who wounded herself 
 to prove to her husband that she deserved his 
 confidence, and afterwards swallowed burn- 
 ing coals, like a worthy daughter of Cato. 
 And Arria, who bled to death with her hus- 
 band, and set him the example, you know 1 
 
 When Arria from her bleeding side 
 Withdrew the reeking steel, 
 I feel not what I do, she cried ; 
 What Paetus has to do I feel. 
 
 1 But, brother, I should not like to have 
 been any of these stabbed or stabbing women, 
 said Rosamond. 
 
 ' The Roman ladies were not all stabbing 
 women,' said Godfrey. ' There never would 
 have been Roman citizens, if there had not 
 been Roman matrons. What do you think of 
 the wife and mother of Coriolanus ? or Cor- 
 nelia, the mother of the Gracchi? or the gen- 
 tle Octavia, who sacrificed her private feel- 
 ings to the peace of mankind V 
 
 1 Octavia was very good to her husband, 
 vol. ii. 24 
 
EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and Cornelia was very good to her children, 
 and I admire her speech about her diamonds. 
 But before I decide to be a Roman matron, 
 let me think of some celebrated people in mod- 
 ern history. I do not think I could well turn 
 into an ancient Roman matron.' 
 
 '.What think you of being Catherine the 
 First of Russia,' said Godfrey, ' the wife of 
 Peter the Great of Russia 7 Pray, Rosamond, 
 come here and look at her. Here she is,' con- 
 tinued he, reading what was written at the 
 bottom of the print of her portrait. ' The 
 empress Catherine, in the habit in which she 
 appeared at the head of her own regiment.' 
 Admire her, with her sword in one hand and 
 
ROSAMOND. 283 
 
 her truncheon in the other, and that cocked 
 hat, wrong corner foremost, on her forehead, 
 a cockade on one side, and her military plume 
 on the other.' 
 
 £ What a figure !' exclaimed Rosamond. 
 1 More like a man than a woman. Her hair 
 frizzled out under the cocked hat like a bob- 
 wig, and the long-waisted riding habit, with 
 its skirts like a man's coat. I never saw 
 such an odd figure, such an odd dress !' 
 
 ' The dress might be easily altered,' said 
 Laura, £ so we need not mind that.' 
 
 ' True,' said Rosamond, ' it is not the ques- 
 tion whether I would have her dress, but her 
 character ; and she had a noble character and 
 great abilities.' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Godfrey ; ' I remember that one 
 night, before some famous battle, when Peter 
 had retired to his tent in despair, and had for- 
 bidden any body to approach him, she ventu- 
 red in, to suggest some expedient by which, 
 as he afterwards acknowledged, she saved 
 him and two-and-twenty-thousand men.' 
 
 ' Two-and-twenty-thousand !' repeated Ro- 
 samond. ' Think of the presence of mind 
 and courage of one person saving so many ! 
 How I should have liked to be that one per- 
 son ! But are we sure it is true, Dr. Egerton V 
 
 1 We have as good evidence for it as we can 
 have for any thing in history. We have it 
 under the hand writing of Czar Peter himself.' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Laura, ' do not you recollect, 
 Rosamond, our reading that character which 
 
284 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her husband wrote with his own hand of Ca- 
 therine, in which he says too that ' she knew 
 how to soothe his most violent passions into 
 an absolute calm.' Those were the very 
 words. She always used to intercede for the 
 innocent, and saved the lives of many, whom 
 he in his fits of fury had condemned to death ; 
 and sometimes, in begging for mercy for them, 
 she ran great danger herself. She was a most 
 courageous, noble-minded person, fit to be the 
 wife of Peter the Great. I should like to have 
 had her character, but not to have been in 
 her place. I should not like to have been 
 the wife of Peter the passionate.' 
 
 1 But. after all,' said Rosamond, ' the Cath- 
 erine you are talking of was not Catherine 
 the Great. Here is Catherine the Great.' 
 
 1 Yes, but as she was not Catherine the 
 Good, we had better, on the present occasion, 
 pass her by,' said Godfrey. ' Here's Maria 
 Theresa — what do you think of her V 
 
 4 O, I recollect WraxalFs description of Ma- 
 ria Theresa presenting her son to the states 
 of Hungary — beautiful ! If I were forced to 
 be an empress, I should like to have been Ma- 
 ria Theresa ; but I. would rather be a private 
 person.' 
 
 ' Well, here is an abdicated queen, Chris- 
 tina of Sweden ; would you like to have been 
 her?' 
 
 1 No, indeed,' said Rosamond, ' though she 
 was daughter of your dear Gustavus Yasa. 
 She had a great deal of pedantry and vanity, , 
 
ROSAMOND. 285 
 
 and as soon as she had abdicated she repent- 
 ed of it. She could neither be a private per- 
 son nor a queen. I can't think any one great 
 who has so little steadiness. Besides, recol- 
 lect the execution — some say the murder — of 
 her chancellor. I would not be Christina on 
 any account.' 
 
 ' I think you are right,' said Godfrey ; 'she 
 was very unlike her father. Who have you 
 got to there 1 Eleanor of England, queen of 
 Edward the First, who sucked the poison 
 from her husband's wound ; yes, now you 
 have it ; you will be queen at last.' 
 
 Rosamond paused, said she admired Elean- 
 or very much ; she liked her the best of all 
 the queens that had been mentioned, but still 
 could not decide to be Queen Eleanor, because 
 she knew but this one action of hers, and she 
 did not know what she was inevery-day life.' 
 
 1 That is a sensible consideration,' said Mrs 
 Egerton, ' for we read in history of many peo- 
 ple remarkable for one fine action, who might 
 have been unamiable characters in common 
 life.' 
 
 ' I could however mention to you many ex- 
 amples of women of distinguished merit in 
 times of trial and difficulty, who at the same 
 time possessed the most amiable domestic ac- 
 complishments,' said Dr. Egerton. ' When 
 you return to the library, I will show you, 
 for instance, an interesting account of the La- 
 dy Griselda Baillie.' 
 
 i I know it — I read it yesterday,' said Ros- 
 
286 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 amond. ' You mean the story of the daugh- 
 ter, who, when she was a child of twelve years 
 old, was trusted with the secret about the 
 place of her father's concealment; and who 
 kept the secret so well, and who conquered her 
 own foolish fears about crossing the church- 
 yard in the dark, and used to go every night 
 to carry his food to him. O, I remember ev- 
 ery particular — about the sheep's head that 
 vanished one day at dinner — and the little 
 brother who had nearly betrayed all. And 
 then her being the delight and support of her 
 family for so many years in poverty and ex- 
 ile. She was a charming creature. I will 
 be Griselda Baillie, I think.' 
 
 c But the time of civil troubles, and hiding 
 in caves, are past,' added she, sighing. 
 
 1 You need not sigh for want of troubles, 
 and dangers, and heroines, in our own times,' 
 said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 1 But did you ever know, that is, know to 
 your own knowledge, in our own times, such 
 a heroine as Griselda Baillie V 
 
 1 Yes, I knew Lady Harriet Ackland, who 
 went through such hardships at the time of 
 the American war, and who had the happi- 
 ness of saving her husband's life by her own 
 exertions.' 
 
 'O tell me that !' said Rosamond. 
 
 ( I will show it to you,' said Godfrey, ' in 
 the Annual Register ; I know where it is.' 
 
 1 And during the troubles in France,' coi> 
 
ROSAMOND. 287 
 
 tinued Dr. Egerton, ( there were many exam- 
 ples of amiable female heroines.' 
 
 c O, but if we go into the troubles of France 
 and all the people who were guillotined, we 
 shall never have done, sir,' said Godfrey. — 
 ' Rosamond was only to choose from among 
 the historical people, whose heads are here 
 before her.' 
 
 ' Then stay, we have missed Lady Jane 
 Gray,' said Rosamond, turning back to look 
 at some portraits she had before passed over. 
 
 Lady Jane Gray was very amiable, and 
 very learned, and very much to be pitied. 
 And before her portrait Rosamond paused ; 
 then turning to ask Laura's counsel, she saw 
 her fixed before another picture. 
 
 ' Lady Russell !' exclaimed Rosamond eag- 
 erly. ' Certainly, Laura, you are right ; how 
 could I forget Lady Russell? — forget her I 
 never did ; but why did I not fix upon her 
 sooner V 
 
 1 Better after comparison than before,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 1 Who can be compared with her ? Who is 
 there in our own country, or France, or Italy, 
 or Spain — in any country ? what celebrated 
 woman can you name, who can stand a com- 
 parison with Lady Russell ?' said Rosamond. 
 
 Several celebrated modern names, French 
 and English, were mentioned, but none could 
 stand a comparison with Lady Russell. 
 
 As Mrs. Egerton observed, we know Lady 
 Russell not merely by what historians or biog- 
 
288 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 raphcrs say in her praise, but we become inti- 
 mately acquainted with her from her own let- 
 ters. There we see her from youth to age, in 
 prosperity and in adversity ; we see her begin- 
 ning life, as if she were only a common person, 
 happy with her husband, and taking care of 
 her children ; we see how grateful she was to 
 God for her happiness — ' her great happiness,' 
 as she emphatically calls it ; we see how 
 wisely, in prosperity, she prepared her mind 
 for adversity, and, when it came upon her, 
 how nobly she bore it ; what presence of mind 
 she showed, what exertions she made, on the 
 trial of her husband ; and as to tenderness, 
 what fortitude in suppressing her feelings in 
 the last parting, that she might spare him 
 pain ! 
 
 1 And her whole life afterwards,' continued 
 Mrs. Egerton, ' was admirable. Instead of 
 giving herself up to her own feelings, she ful- 
 filled every active duty, lived for her chil- 
 dren, her husband ever present to her mind.' 
 
 c .O, I would rather have been the noble 
 widow of lord Russell,' exclaimed Rosamond, 
 'than the greatest queen upon earth !' 
 
 ' Rosamond,' cried Godfrey, suddenly pla- 
 cing himself before her, ' which would you 
 rather have been, Lady Russell, or Queen E- 
 lizabeth in all her glory?' 
 
 ' Lady Russell without a doubt,' replied 
 Rosamond. ' Queen Elizabeth !' repeated she 
 with a look of disdain. ' I would never be 
 Queen Elizabeth, with all her glory, as you 
 
ROSAMOND. 289 
 
 call it. It was the glory of a great queen, 
 but not of a good woman.' 
 
 ' Right, my dear young friend,' said Mrs. 
 Egerton, who rejoiced to see that Rosamond 
 was not dazzled with the glare of historic 
 greatness, but that she felt the full value of 
 female domestic virtues. She rejoiced too in 
 seeing the enthusiasm which Rosamond felt 
 for Lady Russell. She knew that the look- 
 ing up in early youth to a high character ex- 
 alts the mind, and gives the best promise of 
 future excellence. 
 
 vol. ii. 25 
 
290 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Much did the view divide his wavering mind : 
 Now glowed his breast with generous thirst of fame ; 
 Now love of ease to softer thoughts inclined 
 His yielding soul, and quenched the rising flame. 
 
 These lines Godfrey was repeating in a 
 loud voice, as he walked one morning before 
 breakfast, up and down the gallery. Rosa- 
 mond, opening the door of her room, asked 
 him what he was saying. 
 
 1 The choice of Hercules,' replied he. { I am 
 learning it by heart ;' and he went back, 
 
ROSAMOND. 291 
 
 When lo ! far off, two female forms he spies ; 
 Direct to him their steps they seem to bear. 
 
 1 Rosamond, direct your steps to me.' said 
 Godfrey, £ and call Laura. She shall be Vir- 
 tue for me, and you shall be Sloth.' 
 
 ' I Sloth !' cried Rosamond, stopping short, 
 ( indeed I never will.' 
 
 { Well, well ! At any rate, come here and 
 help me to shorten the long speeches in this 
 poem, for both Sloth and Virtue say too much 
 for me,' said Godfrey ; <at least too much for 
 my memory. Leaving out half will, as my 
 father says, much improve the whole.' 
 
 1 But pray don't leave out Virtue's first 
 speech" said Rosamond. 
 
 ' And certainly,' said Godfrey, ' we must 
 not leave this out about Honor. Now hear 
 me say this. I am perfect in this stanza. 
 
 Honor rewards the brave and bold alone ; 
 She spurns the timorous, indolent, and base : 
 Danger and toil stand stern before her throne, 
 And guard, so Jove commands, the sacred place. 
 Who seeks her must the mighty cost sustain, 
 And pay the price of fame — labor, and care, and pain. 
 
 In these lines Godfrey was perfect, and Ro- 
 samond and he had just settled what they 
 would leave out, when they were interrupted 
 by the entrance of Dr. Egerton, who came in 
 with letters in his hand ; his countenance 
 unusually grave, as if he had just received 
 some bad news. 
 
 When they were all assembled at the break- 
 fast table, he told them, that he had heard a 
 
292 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 sad account of a young man, for whom, inde- 
 pently of relationship, he had once had a great 
 regard ; who, from his once generous spirit, 
 and early display of talents, had promised to 
 be an honor to his family, and a distinguish- 
 ed member of society ; who, as his fond pa- 
 rents flattered themselves, would have risen 
 to the first rank in political eminence, and to 
 the highest honors of the state. 
 
 Godfrey and Rosamond looked at each 
 other, afraid to hear the name. 
 
 'Yes, Folliott Brown!' said Dr. Egerton 
 sighing. 
 
 There was a silence, for no one ventured to 
 ask any questions, and Dr. Egerton seemed 
 unwilling to say more. 
 
 ' I cannot tell you all the circumstances, 
 my young friends,' resumed he ; ' but he has 
 fallen into bad company abroad ; he has for- 
 med, or there is imminent danger of his form- 
 ing, a most disgraceful connexion ; and I con- 
 sider his being at this moment under arrest 
 for a gaming debt at Paris as the least part 
 of the evil.' 
 
 { Folliott Brown !' repeated Godfrey. ' We 
 thought him the finest fellow in the whole 
 school ! with such abilities ! such honor ! such 
 spirit ! ' 
 
 1 Ah !' said Dr. Egerton, ' abilities, spirit, 
 honor, will not do without something more. 
 What are they without religion, morality and 
 steadiness ] It must aggravate his mother's 
 affliction to know, as she must, that this ill 
 
ROSAMOND. 293 
 
 conduct arises from his parents' early and 
 late neglect. His father was so intent upon 
 bringing forward his abilities, that he abso- 
 lutely seemed to forget moral and religious 
 principles ; provided he won prizes, and ob- 
 tained school and college honors, he was sat- 
 isfied, without ever looking for more, or caring 
 what company he kept, or what habits he ac- 
 quired. In fact, the very means he took, even 
 to excite him forward in classical literature, 
 while yet a school-boy, prepared this ruin 
 that has ensued. He rewarded him, by in- 
 creasing his allowance of money to an exor- 
 bitant degree.' 
 
 ' That is true. I remember he used to have 
 a great deal of money,' said Godfrey ; ' but he 
 was in the upper form ; I did not know more 
 than that he was very extravagant.' 
 
 1 Colonel Brown used to say,' continued Dr. 
 E. ' that he thought he could not pay too 
 dear for his son's abilities. Dearly he paid, 
 and dearly has his son, and dearly must all 
 his family pay for them. At the university, 
 in spite of every remonstrance I could make, 
 the same principles were followed by his in- 
 fatuated parents. I was wild in my time, the 
 father always said, and Folliott must have 
 his day and his way ; he's a fine fellow, and 
 will take up when we get him into parliament, 
 and he will make a figure that will make a- 
 mends for any little extravagance. His mo- 
 ther too, Lady Frances, was anxious chiefly 
 about the rank and fashion of the young men 
 
294 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 who were his companions. If he was in high 
 company, she always thought he was in gooa 
 company. So from extravagance he went on 
 to all sorts of dissipation, and of course to 
 worse and worse, when his father's death left 
 him fatally at liberty. The disorder of their 
 affairs, the loss of their fortune, made an im- 
 pression just for a time. I remember he then 
 assured me that he was resolved to be pru- 
 dent, and he felt for his mother and sisters, 
 and he was anxious to distinguish himself in 
 parliament, and to set all to rights. And he 
 was in earnest, and felt strongly at the mo- 
 ment ; but what is feeling, what are good im- 
 pulses, without principle and resolution ! — 
 Then his mother, from vanity, put him again 
 in the way of all manner of temptation. He 
 must needs go abroad with a young profli- 
 gate nobleman ; and his mother, by way of 
 saving money, and breaking up an establish- 
 ment, must go to live in Paris too, with vis- 
 ions of glory, I am sure, before her for her 
 daughters. It has all ended as you see/ said 
 Dr. Egerton, putting the letters into his sis- 
 ter's hand. 
 
 Rosamond, extremely shocked, sat quite 
 overpowered with surprise ; she looked alter- 
 nately at Godfrey, Laura, and her mother, 
 without uttering a syllable. The recollection 
 of the time she had seen this family, when 
 they were all in prosperity and gaiety, and 
 when she used to look up to them with admi- 
 ration, was full in her mind, nor could she 
 
ROSAMOND. 295 
 
 forget the manner in which they had spoken 
 of those, who were now, in their adversity, 
 their only friends. 
 
 Dr. Egerton was determined, he said, to set 
 out immediately to Paris, to try what could 
 be done, not merely to relieve this young man 
 from his present difficulties, but to snatch 
 him if possible from future destruction. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton, ever inclined to think the 
 best, encouraged her brother in this benevo- 
 lent hope. It was some exertion, at his ad- 
 vanced time of life, and disliking as he did, 
 to leave his beloved home to go to a foreign 
 country ; but all these were trifles to him 
 with such an object before him. He also re- 
 gretted that he must abruptly leave friends, 
 whose company he so much enjoyed ; and 
 all deplored, that such must be the melancho- 
 ly termination of their hitherto delightful visit 
 to Egerton Abbey. 
 
 Dr. Egerton was to set off early the next 
 morning for France, and Mrs. Egerton was 
 to go to her own house to prepare every 
 thing for the reception of Lady Frances Fol- 
 liott Brown and her daughters, whom she in- 
 vited to make it their residence on this their 
 sudden return from the continent, they hav- 
 ing now no house nor home of their own. 
 
 Arrangements for their various journies, and 
 the necessary preparations for departure, were 
 now to begin, and were necessarily to occu- 
 py almost the whole of this last day. As 
 soon as they had breakfasted, or, to speak 
 
296 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 more correctly, as soon as they rose from the 
 breakfast table, Laura and Rosamond, think- 
 ing that Dr. Egerton might wish to speak 
 further on the subject of these unhappy af- 
 fairs to their father and mother, retired to 
 their own room. Godfrey soon followed. He 
 found Rosamond sitting upon the trunk 
 which Laura was preparing to pack, both 
 quite silent, and Rosamond looking more se- 
 rious than he had ever seen her. 
 
 1 Rosamond,' said he, ' do you recollect the 
 words we heard Folliott Brown say, the last 
 evening we ever saw him, 
 
 Crabbed age and youth cannot live together V 
 
 1 Remember it ! Yes,' said Rosamond. 
 1 When you came in, I was just thinking of 
 that ball, and of all that has passed since, and 
 I shall never forget it. My dear brother,' 
 continued she, ' how happy it is for you, that 
 your friendship for Folliott Brown was bro- 
 ken off !' 
 
 ' That intimacy rather ; for friendship, I 
 am sure, there never was on his side,' said 
 Laura. 
 
 ' But there was on mine,' said Godfrey, 
 1 and I am excessively sorry for all that has 
 happened. My father warned me from him, 
 you remember, and told me, what I never 
 suspected, that he was without principle. I 
 am glad that I trusted my father's judgment, 
 and took his advice.' 
 
ROSAMOND. 297 
 
 { How much reason,' said Rosamond, ' we 
 have to be grateful to our parents, Godfrey, 
 for giving us strong moral principles, with a 
 steady foundation of religion ; and for ma- 
 king us really good friends, instead of what 
 are called great friends.' 
 
 ' Very true,' said Godfrey. ' But who would 
 have expected such a really wise and really 
 good reflection, at last, from Rosamond V 
 
 1 Every body who knows her as well as I 
 do,' said Laura. 
 
 1 Well,' said Godfrey, ' I could tell you, 
 and I could tell Rosamond something.' 
 
 ' Pray tell me, brother ; you must,' said 
 Rosamond, holding him fast. 
 
 ' Then if I must, I will tell you, that there 
 is nobody living, not even yourself, my dear 
 Laura, who has higher expectations of Rosa- 
 mond's sense and goodness than I have, though 
 I agree, I own, with old lady Worral, that 
 miss Rosamond's education has been going 
 on a great while, and that it begins to be time 
 to think of finishing it. The day after we 
 go home, she will arrive, with her old ques- 
 tion, Ma'am, when will miss Rosamond's ed- 
 ucation be finished V 
 
 1 And you, I hope, will answer,' said Ro- 
 samond, ' Never, while she lives.' 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 Marmaduke Multiply, 
 
 Or the Multiplication Table in Picture and Verse. 
 This little book will impress on the young mind the recollection 
 of the multiplication of figures, serving as a book of amuse- 
 ment as well as of instruction. 
 
 Parlour Magic, dedicated to the Lovers of 
 
 Home, being a little Manual of amusing phenomena for fam- 
 ily recreation. The Contents are too numerous to be detail- 
 ed in an advertisement ; but there are forty-five different 
 Transmutations ; sixty-eight different experiments of Sight 
 and Sound ; fifty-six amusements in Light and Heat ; forty 
 different experiments with Gas and Steam ; eighty with air 
 and water ; forty amusing sleights and subtelties ; fortyeight 
 miscellaneous experiments, &c. fj= The boy, whose won- 
 der has been excited by the scientific lecturer, or the illusions 
 of the Ventriloquist, will here find many of these mysteries 
 unveiled, and plain directions for performing them, devested 
 of scientific language. Many of the descriptions are original, 
 and now for the first time appear in print, and especial care 
 has been taken to introduce only such experiments as are a- 
 dapted for performance at the parlour or drawingroom table 
 or fireside, and such as are practicable without expensive me- 
 chanical or chemical apparatus, and require no implements be- 
 yond those which any ingenious youth may readily make him- 
 self or furnish at a very trifling expense. 
 
 Robin Hood and his Merry Foresters, 
 
 By Stephen Percy. With nine spirited Engravings. Being a 
 History of the Life of this famous Outlaw. 
 
 ' Merry it is, in the good green wood, 
 When the mavis and merle are singing.' 
 
PICTURE BOOKS published by MUNROE & FRANCIS. 
 
 Berquin's Children's Friend, 2 volumes, 
 
 M. & P. have published, in two neat thick vols, the dramatic 
 stories of the celebrated Berquin, each with an engraving, and 
 revised throughout, making a most interesting little collection 
 of dramas for juvenile reading and schools. The contents are — 
 The Little Brother: A good heart compensates for many In- 
 discretions : The Three Cakes : The Deserter : Blind Man's 
 Buff: The conjuring Bird : The little Fiddler : Vanity pun- 
 ished : The School for Stepmothers : The Affectionate Moth- 
 er : The Sword : The little Gleaner : Fathers reconciled by 
 their Children : The Hobgoblin : The Young Gamblers : The 
 Fire by Night: The Good Son : Fashionable Education: The 
 Christmas Box : The Greyhound and the Ring : The Page, 
 &c. &c. In all, thirty stories. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe, the entire Work in 1 vol. 
 
 This edition comprises the whole Life of Robinson Crusoe, 
 and of course his adventures after he left his desert island. 
 
 Tales of Illustrious Children ; 
 
 By Agnes Strickland. §~jT This lady's name to any book 
 is recommendation sufficient of its worth ; we therefore only 
 give the names of the contents, whose relation is historically 
 true ; namely, Guthred, the widow's slave : The Royal Bro- 
 thers, or the two princes murdered by Richard 3d : Prince Ed- 
 ward and his wicked stepmother Elfrida : The Sons of the 
 Conqueror : The Boy Bachelor, or the youth of VVolsey : The 
 Judgment of Sir Thomas More, or Dorothy Collie's Dog: Lit- 
 tle lady Lucy's Petition for the life of her father. 
 
 Tales of the Saxons, by Emily Taylor. 
 
 This work is intended to present to children a picture of do- 
 mestic life in England in old Saxon times, in three very inter- 
 esting stories. Haco the Good : Hereward the Saxon : Edith 
 the Forester's Daughter. 
 
PICTURE BOOKS published by MTTNROE & FRANCIS. 
 
 fhrLMrChiid^Bo^ 
 
 Or Spelling and Reading illustrated by Emblematic Figures, 
 A new and improved edition. More than 500 Engravings. 
 
 The design of the Little Child's Book (approved by the sale of 
 several large editions) is to give young children a series oi 
 pictures with short definitions, for their amusement and in- 
 struction, until they are capable of more extensive reading. In 
 square 16mo. 
 
 The same work is likewise published in Four separate books, 
 with appropriate titles, &c. to each. 
 
 The Child's Own Book, 020 Pages. 
 
 With upwards of Two Hundred Engravings. 
 
 The contents of this book were selected by a Lady in reference 
 to strict moral as well as amusing reading ; and the Tales have 
 all their original beauty unimpaired ; nothing changed except 
 any vulgar or improper expression, unfit for the juvenile read- 
 er. The Contents are — 
 
 Aladdin ; Ali Baba ; Beauty and the Beast ; Blanch and Rosa- 
 linda ; Blue Beard ; Children in the wood ; Cinderella ; Dis- 
 creet Princess ; Diamonds and Toads ; Fatal and Fortune ; 
 Fortunatus ; Fortunio ; Fisherman and Genii ; Golden Locks ; 
 Goody Twoshoes ; Griselda ; Graciosa ; Gulliver's Travels ; 
 Hop o'my Thumb ; Little Jack ; King Pippin ; The Giant Kil- 
 ler ; Jack and the Bean Stalk ; Invisible Prince ; Little Hunch- 
 back ; Red Riding Hood ; La Perouse ; Royal Ram ; Nourja- 
 had ; Puss in Boots ; Philip Quart ; Peronella ; Lee Boo ; Ri- 
 quet with the Tuft ; Robin Hood ; Crusoe ; Seven Champions ; 
 Three Wishes ; Tom Thumb ; Valentine and Orson ; White 
 Cat ; Whittington and his Cat ; Yellow Dwarf. 
 
 Robert Ramble's Country and City Scenes. 
 
 Robert takes his young friend by the hand, and carries him at 
 first through the Country Town and then through the City, 
 showing him all the useful sights worth seeing, and relating 
 the Anecdotes connected with them. 
 
 Mrs, Hofland's Farewell Tales, 
 
 There are very few 
 pleasant writings oi 
 universally admired 
 
 There are very few persons who are unacquainted with the 
 pleasant writings of Mrs. H. Her stories ibr the young are 
 
PICTURE BOOKS published by MUNROE & FRANCIS. 
 
 The American Girl's Book ; 
 
 Or, Occupation for Play Hours. By Eliza Leslie. 
 w The sports of children satisfy the child." Golds. 
 This Book contains a fund of entertainment for Girls, when 
 in quest of recreation. Here are sixty-two different Sports 
 and Pastimes ; eight Plays with Toys ; sixteen little Games 
 with Cards ; Four hundred Riddles, Charades, Enigmas, Re- 
 busses and Conundrums. How to make seventeen different 
 kinds of Pincushions ; seven different Needlebooks ; twelve 
 different Reticules. Dolls, Lampstands, Penwipers, Book- 
 marks, Matchboxes, &c. All illustrated with wood cuts, de- 
 signed and drawn by the author. 
 
 Original Poems for Infant Minds. 
 
 By Jane Taylor and her sisters. In one volume, with numer- 
 ous engravings. 
 
 Rhymes for the Nursery; 
 
 By Jane Taylor and her Sisters, authors of that very pop- 
 ular book, " Original Poems for Infant Minds." Containing 
 One hundred and two different little poems, and Seventy-two 
 Cuts. Being a complete, and the only complete collection of 
 " Rhymes for the Nursery, Munroe and Francis' Edition '' 
 
 Paul Preston's GYMNASTICS ; 
 
 Or, Book of Active Sports for Youth. A Legacy to promote 
 the Health and long Life of his youthful friends, fjj- A few 
 words to Guardians of youth, where numbers of children are 
 congregated together, will not be amiss. There is not a sin- 
 gle exercise in this book that can really be called dangerous. 
 Many enlightened instructers of youth have often wished for 
 some Manual of Gymnastics to direct them ; and for want of 
 it, have chosen rather not to attempt them at all, than not do 
 them well. |jjf Here then is a book to their hands, and tho' 
 written expressly for boys, the exercises are so philosophically 
 laid down, as to "progress from the easiest to the most difficult, 
 forming a complete code to guide the teacher. 
 
 The Evergreen: Stories by Walter West 
 
 These Stories have been circulated extensively ; edition aftei 
 edition having been sold, which proves their excellence.