when it should have been straight, and straight when it should have been bias. I have put in tuckers where there should have been no tuckers, and omitted them where they should have been inserted. And in mamma's estimation, to crown all, I have sewed the seams on the wrong side. She has therefore, gone into a pet, taken all my work from me when I thought I was getting on so well, and will not let me have any more. Is it not strange?

"I have read about a hundred times, the dear letter which I had from Cambridge, written by a gentleman you know. It has never since, save to kiss it and read it afresh, left my bosom. Once or twice my mother saw me take it out, and asked me what I was reading. Thinks it was some receipt about which I was so careful; only think of keeping a receipt, perchance for pickling walnuts, next my heart! No, young women are not so thoughtful; at least I am not. When, ah, when, shall I hear again, prays thine own Julia ?"

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II.

Ah, such a rebound as my poor heart experienced at that cruel postman's knock. He brought a letter, but none from you. 'How now, Julia?' exclaimed mamma, 'you'll surely break your neck flying down those stairs.' A letter, O joy! Ah, no-no letter from you! A pretty female hand, correct and forcible; the address 'Miss Hastings.' 'Give it me' said mamma- no one you know, writes to you Julia,' ‘Ah, mamma, I thought to myself, you don't know that. She was not in when your letter came; and I should blush to acknowledge, even to myself, that any man wrote to me. Ah, shame upon thee Julia, to write or to receive love-letters-hide thy little head! And, indeed, I do hide it sometimes; burning blushes cover my face, though unseen, and tears fall from my eyes; then come smiles and sweet reveries.

"I was bitterly disappointed. The postman, I thought, had no right to bring letters unless

for me from you. A tear, I think, stood in my eye. 'Foolish girl' exclaimed my mother as she handed back the letter; it is not for me.'

'Miss Jones presents her compliments to Miss Hastings and requests the honour of her company at Royston Hall for Thursday afternoon. Miss Jones will do herself the pleasure of driving over early on Thursday, and hopes Miss Hastings will be able to accompany her. And if Miss Hastings could so manage as to prolong her visit for a few days or longer, Miss Jones would esteem it an additional favour.'

"Of course you will go,' said mamma. 'I had much rather not dear mamma,' I replied; 'the disagreeable consequences of my last visit are too fresh in my memory, that I should wish to incur the possibility of a similar risk.' 'Come now,' said mamma, you must admit they were not all disagreeable.' 'Ah, mamma how can you?' But I was inwardly gratified, for I feared she was beginning to forget all

about a certain Mr. Charles Thornley; at least as regarded his intimacy with her daughter. She had however, done nothin g of the sort What mother, indeed, is unconscious or forgetful of the connexions which her daughter forms? A father may be, but a mother never. "Ah Charles, dearest Charles, when shall I hear from you? Have you no little memento for your Julia? Send me, at least, a lock of your nut-brown hair. The scissors were in my hand to cut it off one evening, but some one came in. I have heard you speak of the broad-leaved myrtle growing in the open air at Thornley Hall; send me a slip of it-send me both."

III.

"Here I am with Miss Jones. She is different from what I had supposed. She throws away all her espieglerie- that I think is the word,-on closer intercourse. I could not help telling her so. 'Ah, my dear,' said she, 'I am not so audacious as you think; only a poor

weak girl after all. But see how it is, possessed perhaps of some few personal recommendations, and of large pecuniary expectations, caring a little, I will confess, for the one, nothing at all for the other, I am preyed on—yes absolutely preyed on, by every thoughtless, needy, characterless fellow, and there are many such, with whom I come in contact. Adulation the most fulsome, attentions the most profuse, are lavished on me as they are sure to be on every well-looking young woman who has the misfortune to be deemed an heiress. And whatever some may affect to think or say to the contrary, it is a misfortune. If it only made one acquainted with the wise, the intelligent, the good of the opposite sex. I should esteem it otherwise; but beauty, youth, accomplishments, and money are a universal bait of attraction to the idle and rapacious, who would scruple not, though unable to love or be loved in return, to recruit their finances at the cost of all one's earthly happiness. Hence, dear