oth to be brutalized together. You have talked a great deal about our
responsibilities in educating, Cousin. I really wanted you to _try_ with
one child, who is a specimen of thousands among us."

"It is your system makes such children," said Miss Ophelia.

"I know it; but they are _made_,--they exist,--and what _is_ to be done
with them?"

"Well, I can't say I thank you for the experiment. But, then, as it
appears to be a duty, I shall persevere and try, and do the best I
can," said Miss Ophelia; and Miss Ophelia, after this, did labor, with
a commendable degree of zeal and energy, on her new subject. She
instituted regular hours and employments for her, and undertook to teach
her to read and sew.

In the former art, the child was quick enough. She learned her letters
as if by magic, and was very soon able to read plain reading; but the
sewing was a more difficult matter. The creature was as lithe as a
cat, and as active as a monkey, and the confinement of sewing was her
abomination; so she broke her needles, threw them slyly out of the
window, or down in chinks of the walls; she tangled, broke, and
dirtied her thread, or, with a sly movement, would throw a spool away
altogether. Her motions were almost as quick as those of a practised
conjurer, and her command of her face quite as great; and though Miss
Ophelia could not help feeling that so many accidents could not possibly
happen in succession, yet she could not, without a watchfulness which
would leave her no time for anything else, detect her.

Topsy was soon a noted character in the establishment. Her talent for
every species of drollery, grimace, and mimicry,--for dancing, tumbling,
climbing, singing, whistling, imitating every sound that hit her
fancy,--seemed inexhaustible. In her play-hours, she invariably had
every child in the establishment at her heels, open-mouthed with
admiration and wonder,--not excepting Miss Eva, who appeared to be
fascinated by her wild diablerie, as a dove is sometimes charmed by
a glittering serpent. Miss Ophelia was uneasy that Eva should fancy
Topsy's society so much, and implored St. Clare to forbid it.

"Poh! let the child alone," said St. Clare. "Topsy will do her good."

"But so depraved a child,--are you not afraid she will teach her some
mischief?"

"She can't teach her mischief; she might teach it to some children, but
evil rolls off Eva's mind like dew off a cabbage-leaf,--not a drop sinks
in."

"Don't be too s