had undertaken, which she
did in the following manner.

THE HISTORY OF Miss TRENTHAM

Miss Trentham never knew the blessing of a mother's care, hers died the
same month which gave her daughter birth; and Mr Trentham survived his
wife but eight years. He left his little girl eleven thousand pounds,
recommending both her person and fortune to his mother, Mrs Alworth.

Mrs Alworth was an old lady of good sense and merit. She had felt the
most melancholy, but not unusual effect of long life, having outlived
all her children. This misfortune she alleviated in the best manner she
was able, by receiving her grandchildren into her family. Her son by her
second husband left behind him a boy and girl, the former at the time I
speak of about eleven years old, the latter ten. Her daughter had
married Mr Denham and at her death left two girls. Mr Denham entering
into wedlock a second time, very willingly complied with Mrs Alworth's
desire of having his two daughters. The eldest of these was twelve years
old, the youngest eleven.

These children had lived with the old lady some years, when she took
home Harriot Trentham. As their grandmother was rich, there had been a
strong contention among them for her favour, and they could not without
great disgust see another rival brought to the house. Harriot was
extremely handsome and engaging. The natural sweetness of her temper
rendered her complying and observant; but having been bred under the
care of a sensible and indulgent father, she had never been taught the
little arts of behaviour which mothers too commonly inculcate with so
much care that children are as void of simplicity at eight as at eight
and twenty years old. The first thing a girl is taught is to hide her
sentiments, to contradict the thoughts of her heart, and tell all the
civil lies which custom has sanctified, with as much affectation and
conceit as her mother; and when she has acquired all the folly and
impertinence of a riper age, and apes the woman more ungracefully than a
monkey does a fine gentleman, the parents congratulate themselves with
the extremest complacency on the charming education they have given
their daughter.

Harriot had been taught no such lessons. Her father had a strong dislike
to prematurity, and feared that communication with the world would too
soon teach her art and disguise, the last things he would have chosen to
anticipate.

By teaching her humanity, he initiated her into civ