some
learned books together. She then assists in teaching her little sisters,
and never were children better instructed. One day in a week, she sets
aside both for them and herself to work for the poor, whom she also
regularly visits at their own cottages, two evenings in the week; for
she says it would be troublesome and look ostentatious to have her
father's doors crowded with poor people, neither could she get at their
wants and their characters half so well as by going herself to their own
houses. My dear mistress has given her a small room as a store-house for
clothing and books for her indigent neighbors. In this room each of the
younger daughters, the day she is seven years old, has her own drawer,
with her name written on it; and almost the only competition among them
is, whose shall be soonest filled with caps, aprons, and handkerchiefs.
The working day is commonly concluded by one of these charitable visits.
The dear creatures are loaded with their little work-baskets, crammed
with necessaries. This, sir, is the day--and it is always looked
forward to with pleasure by them all. Even little Celia, the youngest,
who is but just turned of five, will come to me and beg for something
good to put in her basket for poor Mary or Betty such a one. I wonder I
do not see any thing of the little darlings; it is about the time they
used to pay me a visit.

"On Sundays before church they attend the village school; when the
week's pocket-money, which has been carefully hoarded for the purpose,
is produced for rewards to the most deserving scholars. And yet, sir,
with all this, you may be in the house a month without hearing a word of
the matter; it is all done so quietly; and when they meet at their meals
they are more cheerful and gay than if they had been ever so idle."

Here Mrs. Comfit stopped, for just then two sweet little cherry-cheeked
figures presented themselves at the door, swinging a straw basket
between them, and crying out, in a little begging voice, "Pray, Mrs.
Comfit, bestow your charity--we want something coarse for the hungry,
and something nice for the sick--poor Dame Alice and her little
grand-daughter!" They were going on, but spying me, they colored up to
the ears, and ran away as fast as they could, though I did all in my
power to detain them.

CHAPTER XIV.

When Miss Stanley came in to make breakfast, she beautifully exemplified
the worthy housekeeper's description. I have sometimes seen