ence, if Myrtle
should in any way go wrong. Ever since her failure in that moral coup
d'etat by which the sinful dynasty of the natural self-determining power
was to be dethroned, her attempts in the way of education had been a
series of feeble efforts followed by plaintive wails over their utter
want of success. The face she turned upon the young girl in her solemn
expostulations looked as if it were inscribed with the epitaphs of hope
and virtue. Her utterances were pitched in such a forlorn tone, that
the little bird in his cage, who always began twittering at the sound of
Myrtle's voice, would stop in his song, and cock his head with a look of
inquiry full of pathos, as if he wanted to know what was the matter, and
whether he could do anything to help.

The specialty of Cynthia Badlam was to point out all the dangerous and
unpardonable trangressions into which young people generally, and this
young person in particular, were likely to run, to hold up examples of
those who had fallen into evil ways and come to an evil end, to present
the most exalted standard of ascetic virtue to the lively girl's
apprehension, leading her naturally to the conclusion that a bright
example of excellence stood before her in the irreproachable relative
who addressed her. Especially with regard to the allurements which the
world offers to the young and inexperienced female, Miss Cynthia Badlam
was severe and eloquent. Sometimes poor Myrtle would stare, not seeing
the meaning of her wise caution, sometimes look at Miss Cynthia with a
feeling that there was something about her that was false and forced,
that she had nothing in common with young people, that she had no pity
for them, only hatred of their sins, whatever these might be,--a hatred
which seemed to extend to those sources of frequent temptation, youth
and beauty, as if they were in themselves objectionable.

Both the lone women at The Poplars were gifted with a thin vein of
music. They gave it expression in psalmody, of course, in which Myrtle,
who was a natural singer, was expected to bear her part. This would have
been pleasantry if the airs most frequently selected had been cheerful
or soothing, and if the favorite hymns had been of a sort to inspire a
love for what was lovely in this life, and to give some faint foretaste
of the harmonies of a better world to come. But there is a fondness
for minor keys and wailing cadences common to the monotonous chants
of cannibals and s