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THE COMMONER'S DAUGHTER.

By the Author of "A Few out of Thousands."

СНАР. Х.

I found Miss Phitts busy in making the invalid comfortable for the night.

"We must not say anything, my dear, about this at head-quarters," whispered the little lady, as she prepared a cap for Susan, and arranged her pillows.

"But my dear Miss Castlebrook," she continued, "I must say I am delighted at your kindness, and the feeling you display." She went on: "We seem quite strong after our wine: now I fancy a grape or two, my dear Liscombe, would not be amiss-cough seems easier, eh?" Susan, who held my hand in both hers, smiled gratefully as the refreshing fruit was put to her white lips.

"I hope, ma'am," I said to Miss Phitts, "I hope no one will come in-Miss Partridge or Miss Margaret."

"O dear no," she replied; "they are having sweetbreads and lobster-salad for supper in the parlour at least Miss Partridge is. Miss Margaret durst not indulge, I suppose, for fear of increasing her weight. Well, thank goodness, I am not likely to get fat, at least on Miss Partridge's school dietary; still, I own, sweetbreads are very tempting, and the smell is somewhat provoking. I must say I never before was in any situation where the teachers were kept so exclusively to themselves, and without their little luxuries. Bless me! at Miss Dentall's our little réunion at supper was quite delightful, and something to look forward to at the end of a hard day's work. Still, you know, my dears, it is a distinction to be in a school like this-so aristocratic, so very genteel, one is willing to put up with a few hardships on that account.'

She was

While she spoke, Miss Phitts arranged her mattress in a snug, convenient spot between the drawers and dressing-table. As I regarded her operations, I thought it quite as well that she was none of the tallest of women. quite good-tempered about the inconveniences she had to put up with. Her oirginally goodnatured spirit, somewhat crabbed and warped by constant contact with froward dispositions,

found here room for expansion, and I believe she felt a pleasure in her own privations. Miss Phitts was, in reality, anything but peevish or unkind; only a little, a very little, irritable and soured, by having fought with a hard world a good many years, which, with the additional trial of earning only forty pounds per year, and having to dress on that income like a duke's daughter, might have soured even a more placable temper.

I asked if I might be allowed to sit up all-night with Susan. Miss Phitts looked doubtfully though pleased, at my request, but said, presently, she thought it might be achieved if I went to bed when the other girls retired, and rose quietly afterwards when they were asleep. To this I willingly assented, although Miss Liscombe tried hard to combat my determination; but I resolved to be with her, if possible, to the last, and I feared the last was at no distant period. We were arguing the matter, when good-natured Betsy brought in a basin of delicious smoking chicken-broth, decorated with tempting sippets of golden-brown toast. This new surprise diverted poor Susan's thoughts, and when I saw her preparing to take the nourishment, though at first she said, "Oh, why waste this?" I slipped out of the room, and went to prepare for my nocturnal watching.

There were so many restless sleepers that night in my dormitory, that I thought I should never escape. I waited and waited, till, as the great hall-clock chimed midnight, the last drowsy conversation between some Helena and Hermia ceased, and all the girls had, beyond a doubt, sunk into slumber. Ithen crept without shoes, holding my slippers in my hands, towards the little inner chamber, but, hearing a noise, I went back, and cautiously opening the door, looked over the bannisters, narrowly escaping the eyes of Miss Partridge, who was slowly ascending the staircase after her supper of sweetbread and lobster-salad. There was a strong perfume of brandy and water wafted towards me from the sisters' private parlour; and I fancied-but it might be the wavering light of the candle she held that Miss Partridge's walk

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could see with terror there was a great change of some kind taking place, and I begged Susan would let me call Miss Phitts.

was unusually unsteady for that stately and erect lady, who certainly swayed about from side to side on the stairs, in a style very different from her customary dignified manner of locomotion. I found Susan greatly refreshed by her sup-"let her rest. There, I think-I think I can per, intently reading a small bible.

"Won't it hurt you to read, dear Susan?" I said. "Let me do it."

She placed the volume in my hands. I looked at Miss Phitts, who was already oblivious, and in a sweet sleep. I was sure no ordinary sound would arouse her from it, and really appreciated the sacrifice of rest, which to the overwrought teacher, must have been a species of martyrdom -I mean watching through the night to attend on poor Miss Liscombe.

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Susan pointed out the passage she wished me to read; it was the twenty-third Psalm of David. How well I knew it! My dear mother, a constant Bible-reader, she who had windeed passed through tribulation, might hell love it "Yea, though I walk through t e valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."" "How soothing!" said Miss Liscombe, softly, when I had read to the end of that beautiful psalm. She paused for a moment, as if she felt speech difficult. "My dear Isabella, I have so often wished to talk with you about things more serious than are thought of here-of religion; its soothing, precious influences. From what you have told me, I fear you will encounter many trials-nay, poor child," reaching out her thin white hand, you have already found them. You have a capacity for loving, my dear, which is one of God's most precious gifts. Cherish it: try to love even those who hate you. Pray always for them who despitefully use you. You will find your reward in that perfect peace which passeth all understanding. In the world, however much of its enjoyments or its bitterness may be your lot, you will find at the last there is nothing" laying her hand on the book-"nothing to compare with this. Think of my words before you wait for death, as I do now: this will always comfort and support you. I fear I have not," she said, with a sigh, "spoken to you or the rest, enough on this theme. Once I did so, and Miss Partridge overhearing me, sent for me to her own room, and threatened me with instant dismissal if I did so again. I was weak then," she said, "but I feel strong in the faith now. If I have been but a lukewarm servant, forgive me, O Lord! Thou who hast known my trials! I cling to the promise-to the foot of the cross, and—”

She turned very faint: I moistened her lips with a little wine-those lips, almost the only ones that had ever smiled on me. At length she opened her eyes, the same eyes which had beamed so kindly on me the first day I came to Mnemosyne House. She spoke at last, but in panting whisper

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"I am glad you are here with me." Her voice was well-nigh gone. By the feeble gleam of the rushlight burning in the room,

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"No, no!" she cried, struggling for breath,

sleep. Dearest, kiss me!"

I bent to her lips: I could scarcely refrain from a shriek, for already they were freezing with the chill of death-I knew it. Nothing else resembles that icy touch. Her eyes, which had rested on me, were fast fixing. "God bless you!" she murmured. "My death is not lonely now."

I perceived, just then, that the door was partly open, admitting a draught; I went softly and shut it, and returned in a second of timein that secoud the fair head had fallen back on its pillow; the eyes were still open, but "their sense was shut." The dropped jaw, the sunken cheek told me, an inexperienced child, that even in so brief a time the weary soul had fled to its Creator. I seized the miserable light, and brought it close to the bed-side, gazing in terror at the motionless form, seeking vainly for signs of life. I might have sought till now: light and darkness were the same to those glazed eyes: the worn spirit was at rest in its home, and once more I stood a helpless child, alone in the bleak and bitter world.

CHAP. XI.

The last chapter is a short one, but the event there recorded, sank deeply into my girlish spirit. I should have awakened Miss Phitts, who slumbered on, instead of which I sat in an agony of grief for an hour or more; indeed, till daybreak came stealing in, the sight at last impelling me to awake Miss Phitts. She was some time before she comprehended all that I told her. When she at last learned at what hour Susan had expired, instead of tears or regrets, she commenced scolding me very heartily for not calling her before. Betsy, who was at once summoned, burst into unfeigned tears when she beheld the poor remains awaiting the last services humanity could render. As for Miss Phitts, she appeared so overcome by the thought of Miss Partridge's anger, and was so shaken and nervous, that a stranger might, without much violence of ima gination, have fancied the good lady was somehow concerned in Susan's death. Betsy saw this, and hastened us both out of the room, saying we only hindered the necessary duties. But even for those, she who lay so rigid, calm, and white on her bed of death, had provided, ever thoughtful to spare anyone the trouble that could be prevented. A white robe and cap were found, with directions pinned on them. And what a loveless, lonely life even those very cares portrayed! As for myself, I sought vainly for some flowers, to lay on the breast of the departed; but I could procure none, save some wax ones of my own making, and which the dead girl herself had taught me to fabricate; yet I thought, as I placed them on her bosom, they

were better suited to the dead than the fresh, she would commence her intercourse with the hues and scents of natural ones.

Miss Partridge was highly scandalized at a death taking place in Mnemosyne House before the vacation set in: indeed both Miss Margaret and her august sister seemed, in their restrained and cold expressions of regret, to cast blame on poor Susan for not having deferred her demise till the pupils were out of the house. "A death," Miss Margaret observed, "gave young people such gloomy ideas."

One knew not whether to smile at the absurdity or be indignant, especially when Miss Phitts (to whom the remark was addressed) said, submissively, "It was a pity."

Poor soul! in happier circumstances she might have disdained the sycophantic reply. How many of us I have since learned are made evil by circumstances which we can perhaps no more resist than we should a tearing wind, striking at root and branch of the tree under whose shelter we have hoped to stay till the storm might pass away! However, as Miss Phitts volunteered to undertake all the arrangements necessary, and, further, hearing that there were funds to cover all expenses, the sisters calmed down into tranquillity, and, with a dignified-" Well, I suppose it cannot be helped, therefore we must put up with it," from the elder lady, they retired to their own peculiar sanctum, giving orders that the school studies should be suspended till after the funeral.

Some of the girls heard of poor Susan's death with expressions of horror and pity, but they had troubled themselves so little about her that her absence had scarcely excited more than a passing remark, although she was universally in request in the school-room. I even heard an honourable young lady declare she was sorry Liscombe was dead, for she had meant her to go home with her in the holidays, and teach the younger children.

But the lamentations and wonderment at Miss Liscombe's death were quickly turned into anticipations of what the new teacher would be like. Lady Laura, who had acquaintances in London, paid a week's visit, and returned to school highly gratified at having been able to show her fine clothes, and still finer airs and graces, on a new scene of action. After her return, her eyes were frequently and intently fixed on me, and I puzzled myself exceedingly as to the unusual interest I appeared suddenly to have created in this young lady's mind.

I was not allowed to attend my poor friend's funeral, though I asked the favour, and at that period female mourners were usual, even in genteel circles. From the bed-room window I watched, in bitter tears, the mournful procession, attended only as a matter of etiquette by the distant relative with whom poor Susan first took refuge when she became an orphan.

The day after the funeral, school went on as usual, and at breakfast it was announced to the pupils by Miss Partridge herself, that a new English teacher would arrive at Mnemosyne House in the course of the morning, and that

young ladies, by giving that day's drawinglesson. Miss Partridge concluded a very verbose and lengthy speech, by bespeaking their attention and respect towards "Miss Jukes."

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A name so plebeian, provoked a curl of the lip from many of the aristocratic daughters of Mnemosyne, and Lady Laura remarked in an audible voice to her own clique, that she supposed a new and still more sentimental friendship would shortly rise up, to astonish the school. "Gentlemen's daughters and parvenues," she said, with a sneer, 'now swear eternal amity; and dying scenes come out with great effect." This witticism (for it really was meant for one) convinced me that my attendance on Susan had transpired; partly, perhaps, through my excessive grief, and partly in a lamentable deficiency of secretiveness in Miss Phitts' mental compound. I heard these remarks in silence; and in the afternoon Miss Jukes herself, in making her first appearance, effectually set at rest any suspicion that she would succeed poor Miss Liscombe in either my love or respect.

I shall not easily forget this young person's entrance into the school-room, on the drawinglesson day. Susan had exclusively attended to this accomplishment; for she was so admirable an artist, that I often wondered why she had not rather preferred to earn her bread solely in that capacity, than expose herself to the harassing life of a school. It appeared that the new teacher had undertaken all, and more than poor Susan had ever dreamed of.

A tall, gawky, red-handed, slovenly, though smartly-attired damsel, of three or four-andtwenty, was ushered into our presence by Miss Phitts, whose usual primness and formality in school-times was now so greatly increased, that it must have been uncommon nerves indeed that did not sink under her keen glance. It was afterwards known that the new teacher had been showing off, before she entered the school-room, and as Miss Phitts, notwithstanding her fussiness, was herself a clever teacher, who understood her own department thoroughly, she soon penetrated Miss Juke's surface of impudent pretensions.

As soon as the introduction to her future pupils took place, this young person, who was dressed in an outrageously showy silk, and who had so much mock jewellery and glass-beads hung about her, that she put you in mind of an Indian idol, stepped forward, and offered to shake hands with everyone all round, Bidkins included, who on drawing-days cut all the pencils, and gathered as much instruction in the art during that process as she could. Imagine, if you please, reader, the elegantly contemptuous, high-bred stare with which the children of Mnemosyne House greeted such a demonstration from a stranger! The best-natured tittered; the sensitively refined did not see the action; and Lady Laura, who for one amazed instant lost her self-possession, had her dexter member seized violently and shaken. She recovered herself instantly, and asked Bidkins, her toady,

old Scottish law was put in force against the bodies of the wretched brothers, and condemned by parliament to be quartered. On the Sunday after their death frightful sights and sounds were seen and heard in Gowry-house: men in armour opened and shut the windows; screams, sobs, and cries of distress resounded through the melancholy passages, and fire flashed through the doors, filling all present with horror. The Queen's favourite, Beatrice Ruthven, was sent from Court penniless, to the great sorrow of

her mistress, who afterwards incurred the King's displeasure by receiving her secretly and making her presents; but since the sister was probably quite ignorant of her brothers' treason, we must admire the Queen's kind feeling more than the King's harshness. She was afterwards married to Sir John Home, of Cowden-knows. Eve after, James kept the day as one of solem thanksgiving, when his bishops used to preach upon such texts as "Touch not mine Anointed" -an unction very flattering to James's vanity.

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THE TOILE T.
(Specially from Paris.)

FIRST FIGURE.-Foulard Dress.-Body cut | in the Figaro style before, and having a short coat tail behind. The waistband is a very wide ribbon the colour of the trimmings on the skirt and body. Plain collar, bordered with Valenciennes and embroidered at the corners. Undersleeves with cuffs to match. The outer garment is a round cloak of faille silk, bordered with a deep guipure.

SECOND FIGURE.-Silk dress, trimmed at the bottom of the skirt with four black velvet bias pieces. Body round and plain, with small slashed lappets in the Arragon style. Sleeves tight-fitting, trimmed top and bottom with velvet bias pieces. Wide black velvet waistband fastened by a pearl buckle. Black velvet bonnet in the fanchon form, ornamented with a deep black lace falling behind; inside a tea-rose, a blue bandeau, and a blond ruche: velvet strings. A double muslin collar, with rounded ends, bordered by a lace insertion and a fulled row of lace. Under-sleeves with cuffs to match.

There is no change in the form of dresses. Bodies for dress toilets are generally cut short and round, and are finished with a wide waistband and buckles. The sleeves are almost tight. Black silk, trimmed with blue, is a favourite toilette de ville.

The bonnets remain very small, and are likely to do so while the present mode of wearing the hair continues in vogue.

Of dresses for balls and evening parties there are a great variety. One toilet is composed of a first skirt of rose-coloured silk, veiled nearly to the bottom by a single flounce of tulle illusion, over which falls a skirt of rose-coloured Chambery gauze, on which is placed a deep flounce of English lace. The gauze skirt is much longer than the other, and is gathered up on each side and ornamented with branches of jacinthe roses. The corsage, pointed before and behind, is garnished with a species of fanchon of English lace: this is fixed at the points, and is simply fulled a little in the middle, like a fichu d'Auvergnate: one or two branches of jacinthe rose are crossed amongst the gathers. The short sleeves are formed of a double bouillonneone of white tulle; one of rose-coloured gauze, veiled by a fall of lace. The head-dress is composed of jacinthe.

A pretty toilet, for a little girl of six years of age, consists of a frock of lama or cachemire, trimmed round the bottom of the skirt with a row of swan's-down. The body, which is cut very low in front, has, like the short sleeves, a border of down; and is worn with a Swiss chemisette, with sleeves.

The Greek pattern is much used at the bottom of the skirts, cut in silk of a distinct colour or of a brighter shade than that of the dress. Sometimes these coloured trimmings are bouillonnée.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

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accept this paper as a notice; "Under the Pear Tree;"-unfortunately we have two stories with this title, and like them both: one or the other must take another name.

MADAM A.-Paris. On the first question we should advise an advertisement in the Athenæum. Second, offer the translation to Routledge, or any other London Publisher of novels.

Books, Music, &c., for notice or review, must be forwarded by the 10th of the month, to appear in the following numer.

To Miss R.-We have no opportunity of using German translations: our pages are purely secular.

London; Printed by Rogerson and Tuxford, 246, Strand.

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