seldom fails of defeating its own ends," observed I, sagely.

Charles laughed heartily. "Just so, little woman; take care, therefore, to bear that in mind next time you feel tempted to fly into a passion with Mistress Patterson when she refuses to give you any more toffy."

My cheeks burned, and I was on the point of attempting a self-vindication, which would certainly have produced me little or no good with my merry-hearted tormenter, when the entrance of servants and tea checked me.

Soon after my arrival in Riversdale, I became, to the great annoyance at first of all the old servants, the one object of most importance in the world to my grandmother. Customs of every kind, no matter of how long practice in the house, were made to at once succumb to the requirements of my fragile health, extreme youth, and the furtherance of my education. and manners. Among other domestic arrangements was that of early hours, and thus it was we now sat down together to a six o'clock tea, in which Charles, who had only just dined with his family, could not of course share. Seating himself at the open window,

he looked out on the sweet view, and chatted the while.

"Ah, Enny!" he exclaimed, after a rather long silence, "you will never hear sounds in India comparable with those merry chimes and the singing of those birds. How delicious it all is!" he continued, in a low soliloquizing tone, leaning out, the better to listen and see, "the bells, the birds, the rushing, murmuring water, the golden sunset-everything, everything!"

Often since have I recalled to memory those happy, contented words, and the light-spirited look accompanying them; yes, and that mellow, peaceful evening. Many, many more as sweet, warm and pleasant have come and gone with my girlhood's past, forgotten, unmarked, as though they had not been; but this stands out still another of those little verdant islands on a boundless waste of waters.

CHAPTER IV.

EXTRACTS FROM SARIANN'S DIARY.

As far back as I can remember I have written a diary—a brief, crude account of divers events in my every-day life; some are of great, some of small importance, as the case may be.

My mother was the only child of a Scotch clergyman living in one of the midland counties of Scotland: her parents, strict, rigid Calvinists of the old school, were, albeit, gentle, true-hearted Christian folk. They dearly loved the one little daughter granted to their wedded life; so dearly that, with pained reluctance, they consented to her marriage with the Rector of Riversdale; albeit he was all, as regardeth this world and the next, their anxious hearts could desire in a son-in-law. But, alas! the future home of their beloved daughter would

lie far distant from her native land; and this was their exceeding grief.

A year after the marriage Charles was born ; anon, in eighteen months, I came; then Edith made her appearance the year following. Now, so it was, so greatly did I resemble my mother even from babyhood, that the hearts of my Puritan grandfather and grandmother opened out to me with a warmth and love which neither Charles nor Edith could excite.

In the fifth year of my age the two former, who had been sojourning awhile in Riversdale with my parents, carried me back with them to Scotland. My proposed sojourn in their house was for a month; but, so it turned out, I tarried on and on for many months, and anon for years.

I had reached my seventeenth birthday when, to my great grief, my kind old grandfather died. His death was sudden; and so terrible was the shock to his aged partner that, in a few months, she joyfully-yea, joyfully, for what further value had earthly existence for one so bereaved?-followed her husband to that happy land whither she knew he was but gone before

and was awaiting her coming. Anon I returned to my rectory home, my heart aching sadly my double loss.

for

Much amused were they all after a while, within and without the house, by the quaint and primitive fashion of my speech and my somewhat stiff dress and manner. Often offended was I by Charley's saucy mimicry and his appellation of little Puritan, the which clung to me for a long space. But the faculties of youth are quick of perception and pliant, and my talk speedily assumed the modern style of those with whom I now consorted.

Albeit, ever dear to me will be the simple language of my good pious grandparents; wherefore, in these my private communings and descriptions, I delight myself in adopting, in English, not Scotch dialect, the bygone phraseology of my beloved and honoured relatives,― in a measure, that is. Having writ thus much of the past, I will now proceed with present daily accounts after the manner of the original portion of my manuscript.

What a joyous, happy-hearted fellow dear Charley is! and so clever! As yet, the whole