the East India service, at the siege
of Bhurtpore. Hence a number of Indian children come to the Doctor's;
for Raby was very much liked, and the uncle's kind reception of the
orphan has been a good speculation for the school-keeper.

It is wonderful how brightly and gayly that little quick creature
does her duty. She is the first to rise, and the last to sleep, if any
business is to be done. She sees the other two women go off to parties
in the town without even so much as wishing to join them. It is
Cinderella, only contented to stay at home--content to bear Zoe's scorn
and to admit Rosa's superior charms,--and to do her utmost to repay her
uncle for his great kindness in housing her.

So you see she works as much as three maid-servants for the wages of
one. She is as thankful when the Doctor gives her a new gown, as if
he had presented her with a fortune; laughs at his stories most
good-humoredly, listens to Zoe's scolding most meekly, admires Rosa with
all her heart, and only goes out of the way when Jack Birch shows his
sallow face: for she can't bear him, and always finds work when he comes
near.

How different she is when some folks approach her! I won't be
presumptuous; but I think, I think, I have made a not unfavorable
impression in some quarters. However, let us be mum on this subject. I
like to see her, because she always looks good-humored; because she is
always kind, because she is always modest, because she is fond of those
poor little brats,--orphans some of them--because she is rather pretty,
I dare say, or because I think so, which comes to the same thing.

Though she is kind to all, it must be owned she shows the most gross
favoritism towards the amiable children. She brings them cakes from
dessert, and regales them with Zoe's preserves; spends many of her
little shillings in presents for her favorites, and will tell them
stories by the hour. She has one very sad story about a little boy, who
died long ago: the younger children are never weary of hearing about
him; and Miss Raby has shown to one of them a lock of the little chap's
hair, which she keeps in her work-box to this day.

A HOPELESS CASE.

Let us, people who are so uncommonly clever and learned, have a great
tenderness and pity for the poor folks who are not endowed with the
prodigious talents which we have. I have always had a regard for
dunces;--those of my own school-days were amongst the pleasantest of the
fellows, and have tu