sooner they gave
up their lays the better. The public wanted healthy, cheerful, breezy
poetry, with a touch of humour here and there, and a varied human
interest running through it--a fit companion to the spirited novels of
Charles Kingsley, then at the height of his fame. If poets were to
teach the world, as they boasted that they were, they should not shut
themselves up, and practise variations on the one poor tune, "I am
miserable; I am not appreciated; the world is not worthy of me;" but go
forth to the world and learn that there are nobler subjects for poetry
than themselves. Then, with regard to Elsie's diction and rhymes, this
critic selected a number of the most faulty and imperfect verses for
censure, and Elsie had the miserable satisfaction of having to
acknowledge that they deserved it. I have little doubt that the critic
thought he was giving the poetess a good lesson; but if he had seen the
suffering that his letter caused, and the youth and inexperience, and
the sad circumstances of the poor girl who received it, he would have
repented somewhat of his very clever and satirical letter.

Heartsick and humbled, Elsie lost hope, and health, and spirits. She
wrapped the rejected manuscript in brown paper, and put it in the
farthest corner of one of her drawers. She was only prevented from
committing it to the flames by Jane's interference.

"Now," said she, "I must be as busy as you. Peggy must teach me to
iron--surely I can learn to do that--and let me make Nancy's frock.
But, after all, Jane, this will not do for a continuance; we must seek
for employment somewhere. I have spent a good deal of time over this
useless work, and postages have come heavy on our small means. I must
try to earn something."

The heavy tears fell fast on the frock as the girl worked at it; the
listless hands dropped their hold of it occasionally, and she was lost
in bitter thoughts. She however finished it, and then busied herself
with a new bonnet for Peggy, which was to be made not at all
fashionable, but big and rather dowdy. Elsie's taste rebelled a little
at the uncongenial task; but she was doing her best to please Peggy
when the postman delivered two letters to Jane--one from Francis, and
the other from Mrs. Rennie. Francis' letters had been frequent, and had
been a little interesting even to Elsie, and this one was more so than
usual. He was coming to Edinburgh for a week or two, and meant to see
them as much as possible d