never exerted with much harshness; and happy was Rosamund, though a girl grown, when she could obtain leave to read her Bible. It was a treasure too valuable for an indiscriminate use; and Margaret still pointed out to her grand-daughter where to read.

Besides this, they had the "Complete Angler, or Contemplative Man's Recreation," with cutsPilgrim's Progress," the first part-a Cookery Book, with a few dry sprigs of rosemary and lavender stuck here and there between the leaves, (I suppose, to point to some of the old lady's most favourite receipts,) and there was "Wither's Emblems," an old book, and quaint. The old fashioned pictures in this last book were among the first exciters of the infant Rosamund's curiosity. Her contemplation had fed upon them in rather older years.

Rosamund had not read many books besides these; or if any, they had been only occasional companions: these were to Rosamund as old friends, that she had long known. I know not whether the peculiar cast of her mind might not be traced, in part, to a tincture she had received, early in life, from Walton, and Wither, from John Bunyan, and her Bible.

Rosamund's mind was pensive and reflective, rather than what passes usually for clever or acute. From a child she was remarkably shy and thoughtful -this was taken for stupidity and want of feeling ; and the child had been sometimes whipt for being a stubborn thing, when her little heart was almost bursting with affection.

Even now her grandmother would often reprove her, when she found her too grave or melancholy; give her sprightly lectures about good humour and rational mirth; and not unfrequently fall a crying herself, to the great discredit of her lecture. Those tears endeared her the more to Rosamund.

Margaret would say, "Child, I love you to cry, when I think you are only remembering your poor dear father and mother-I would have you think about them sometimes-it would be strange if you did not-but I fear, Rosamund; I fear, girl, you sometimes think too deeply about your own situation and poor prospects in life. When you do so, you do wrong-remember the naughty rich man in the parable. He never had any good thoughts about God, and his religion: and that might have been your case.

Rosamund, at these times, could not reply to her; she was not in the habit of arguing with her

grandmother; so she was quite silent on these occasions or else the girl knew well enough herself, that she had only been sad to think of the desolate condition of her best friend, to see her, in old age, so infirm and blind. But she had never been used to make excuses, when the old lady said she was doing wrong.

The neighbours were all very kind to them. The veriest rustics never passed them without a bow, or a pulling off of the hat-some shew of courtesy, awkward indeed, but affectionate—with a "good morrow, madam," or "young madam," as it might happen.

Rude and savage natures, who seem born with a propensity to express contempt for any thing that looks like prosperity, yet felt respect for its declining lustre.

The farmers, and better sort of people, (as they are called), all promised to provide for Rosamund, when her grandmother should die. Margaret trusted in God, and believed them.

She used to say, "I have lived many years in the world, and have never known people, good people, to be left without some friend; a relation, a benefactor, a something. God knows our wants —that it is not good for man or woman to be alone;

and he always sends us a helpmate, a leaning-place, a somewhat." Upon this sure ground of experience, did Margaret build her trust in Providence.

CHAPTER II.

ROSAMUND had just made an end of her story (as I was about to relate), and was listening to the application of the moral, (which said application she was old enough to have made herself, but her grandmother still continued to treat her, in many respects, as a child, and Rosamund was in no haste to lay claim to the title of womanhood), when a young gentleman made his appearance, and interrupted them.

It was young Allan Clare, who had brought a present of peaches, and some roses, for Rosamund.

He laid his little basket down on a seat of the arbour; and in a respectful tone of voice, as though he were addressing a parent, inquired of Margaret "how she did."

The old lady seemed pleased with his attentions -answered his inquiries by saying, that “her cough was less troublesome a-nights, but she had

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grandmother; so she was quite silent on these occasions or else the girl knew well enough herself, that she had only been sad to think of the desolate condition of her best friend, to see her, in old age, so infirm and blind. But she had never been used to make excuses, when the old lady said she was doing wrong.

The neighbours were all very kind to them. The veriest rustics never passed them without a bow, or a pulling off of the hat-some shew of courtesy, awkward indeed, but affectionate-with a "good norrow, madam," or "young madam," as it might happen.

Rude and savage natures, who seem born with a propensity to express contempt for any thing that Ce prosperity, yet felt respect for its declin

ug ustre

The armers, and better sort of people, (as they we auled, al promised to provide for Rosamund, when her grandmother should die. Margaret rused a Jou, and believed them.

She used to say, "I have lived many years in the world, and have never known people, good people to be left without some friend; a relation, benefactor, a sunething God knows our wants that it is not good for man or woman to be alone;