o I ail ts of my insignificant existence: to t ten years of my life I  as many cers. But t to be a regular autobiograpo invoke Memory ; t years almost in silence: a feo keep up tion.

    yps mission of devastation at Lo gradually disappeared from t not till its virulence and ts victims tention on to ts came out ion in a ure of te; tity and quality of tid er used in its preparation; tcions—all t mortifying to Mr. Brockle, but beneficial to titution.

    Several  individuals in ty subscribed largely for tion of a more convenient building in a better situation; neions s in diet and clotroduced; trusted to t of a committee. Mr. Brockle,  be overlooked, still retained t of treasurer; but ies by gentlemen of rator, too, rictness, comfort ness. time a truly useful and noble institution. I remained an inmate of its er its regeneration, for eigeacies I bear my testimony to its value and importance.

    During t years my life  not un  inactive. I  education placed udies, and a desire to excel in all, toget deligeacages offered me. In time I rose to be t girl of t class; ted eac at t time I altered.

    Miss temple, tinued superintendent of to ruction I o part of my acquirements; y inual solace; sood me in tead of motterly, companion. At t man, almost o a distant county, and consequently  to me.

    From t I tled feeling, every association t o me. I ure and mucs: more s: ter regulated feelings es of my mind. I o duty and order; I ; I believed I ent: to to my own, I appeared a disciplined and subdued cer.

    But destiny, in temple: I saep into a post-cly after tc ts broired to my o in solitude test part of ted in he occasion.

    I  t of time. I imagined myself only to be regretting my loss, and to repair it; but  ternoon  in terval I ransforming process; t my mind  off all it emple—or rat saken mospy—and t no in my natural element, and beginning to feel tirring of old emotions. It did not seem as if a prop  rative   to be tranquil ranquillity ems; no t a varied field of ions and excitements, aed to go forto its expanse, to seek real kno its perils.

    I  to my , and looked out. ts of Los to rest on t remote, t o surmount; all s. I traced te road ain, and vanis fartime  very road in a coac  t to Loed it since. My vacations  at sc for me to Gateso visit me. I ion by letter or message er ions, and voices, and faces, and pumes, and preferences, and antipat I kneence. And no t it  enougired of tine of eigernoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on tly blo and framed a ion; for cimulus: t petition, too, seemed s off into vague space: “te, “grant me at least a neude!”

    airs.

    I  free to resume terrupted cions till bedtime: even teac me from t to alk.  seemed as if, could I but go back to t entered my mind as I stood at tive suggestion would rise for my relief.

    Miss Gryce snored at last; sill norains  to-nig deep notes isfaction; I erruption; my  instantly revived.

    “A neude! t,” I soliloquised (mentally, be it understood; I did not talk aloud), “I kno does not sound too s; it is not like sucy, Excitement, Enjoyment: deligruly; but no more ting t it is mere e of time to listen to t Servitude! t must be matter of fact. Any one may serve: I  years; no is to serve else so muc t so difficult; if I ive enougo ferret out ttaining it.”

    I sat up in bed by  .

    “ do I ? A neances: I  t is of no use ing anytter. o get a neo friends, I suppose: I  look about for t is their resource?”

    I could not tell: noto find a response, and quickly. It er: I felt temples; but for nearly an  s efforts. Feveris up and took a turn in tain, noted a star or to bed.

    A kind fairy, in my absence, ion on my pillo came quietly and naturally to my mind.—“t situations advertise; you must advertise in the—shire herald.”

    “ advertising.”

    Replies rose smoot now:—

    “You must enclose tisement and to pay for it under a cover directed to tor of t put it, t opportunity you o t at Lo be addressed to J.E., at t-office t a er you send your letter, if any are come, and act accordingly.”

    t over t ed in my mind; I  in a clear practical form: I felt satisfied, and fell asleep.

    it day, I  ten, enclosed, and directed before to rouse t ran thus:—

    “A young lady accustomed to tuition” ( been a teacing uation in a private family  t as I  do to undertake to teacion, togetalogue of accompliss, on,—shire.”

    t remained locked in my draer tea, I asked leave of tendent to go to Loo perform some small commissions for myself and one or teaced; I . It , but till long; I visited a ster into t- office, and came back treaming garments, but .

    t came to an end at last, o autumn day, I found myself afoot on to Louresque track it est curves of t t day I t more of tters, t mig not be aing me at ttle burger.

    My ostensible errand on to get measured for a pair of s business first, and epped across t little street from to t-office: it  by an old dame, ens on her hands.

    “Are tters for J.E.?” I asked.

    S me over acles, and ts contents for a long time, so long t my o falter. At last,  before es, sed it across ter, accompanying t by anotive and mistrustful glance—it was for J.E.

    “Is there only one?” I demanded.

    “t it in my pocket and turned my face  open it to be back by eig was already  seven.

    Various duties aed me on my arrival. I o sit udy; t urn to read prayers; to see to bed: aftereacired for t, table Miss Gryce ill my companion: ick, and I dreaded lest salk till it  out; fortunately, en produced a soporific effect: sill remained an incook out my letter; tial F.; I broke it; tents were brief.

    “If J.E.,  ts mentioned, and if sion to give satisfactory references as to cer and competency, a situation can be offered  one pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age; and ed to send references, name, address, and all particulars to tion:—

    “Mrs. Fairfax, te,—shire.”

    I examined t long: ting  of in elderly lady. tance isfactory: a private fear ed me, t in ting for myself, and by my oting into some scrape; and, above all t of my endeavours to be respectable, proper, en règle. I no t an elderly lady  in t not uncivil: a model of elderly Englisability. t, doubtless,  orderly spot, I s to conceive a correct plan of te, — sions of t; botoe county ion to me. I longed to go e uring toless: so mucter; it e c least. Not t my fancy ed by t,” I argued, “town.”

    of t out.

    Next day neeps o be taken; my plans could no longer be confined to my o; I must impart to ac and obtained an audience of tendent during tide recreation, I told  of getting a neuation  Lo ￡15 per annum); and requested ster for me to Mr. Brockle, or some of ttee, and ascertain o mention ted to act as mediatrix in tter. t day s,  be ten to, as sural guardian. A note o t lady,  “I migerference in my affairs.” te  ttee, and at last, after o me most tedious delay, formal leave o better my condition if I could; and an assurance added, t as I ed myself eac Loestimonial of cer and capacity, signed by tors of t institution, sh be furnished me.

    testimonial I accordingly received in about a mont to Mrs. Fairfax, and got t lady’s reply, stating t sisfied, and fixing t day fortnig of governess in her house.

    I noions: tnig a very large  e to my s; and t day sufficed to pack my trunk,—t  years ago from Gateshead.

    to call for it to take it to Lo an early  morning to meet tuff travelling-dress, prepared my bonnet, gloves, and muff; sougo see t no article  beo do, I sat doried to rest. I could not; t all day, I could not noant; I oo muced. A po-nigo-morroo slumber in terval; I must che change was being accomplished.

    “Miss,” said a servant roubled spirit, “a person below wiso see you.”

    “t,” I t, and ran doairs  inquiry. I eacting-room, to go to tc—

    “It’s old opped my progress and took my hand.

    I looked: I satired like a , matronly, yet still young; very good-looking, h black hair and eyes, and lively complexion.

    “ell, e forgotten me, I think, Miss Jane?”

    In anoturously: “Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!” t o tood a little fellorousers.

    “t is my little boy,” said Bessie directly.

    “then you are married, Bessie?”

    “Yes; nearly five years since to Robert Leaven, ttle girl besides Bobby t I’ve cened Jane.”

    “And you don’t live at Gateshead?”

    “I live at ter .”

    “ell, and  on? tell me everyt t sit do; and, Bobby, come and sit on my knee,  Bobby preferred sidling over to her.

    “You’re not groall, Miss Jane, nor so very stout,” continued Mrs. Leaven. “I dare say t kept you too  scaller th.”

    “Georgiana is handsome, I suppose, Bessie?”

    “Very. S up to London last er  ions  tc do you t up to run a t and stopped. It  found t: I believe ser lead a cat and dog life togethey are always quarrelling—”

    “ell, and w of John Reed?”

    “O doing so o college, and —plucked, I t: and ted o be a barrister, and study t ed young man, think.”

    “ does he look like?”

    “all: some people call  hick lips.”

    “And Mrs. Reed?”

    “Missis looks stout and  quite easy in  does not please her—he spends a deal of money.”

    “Did she send you here, Bessie?”

    “No, indeed: but I ed to see you, and ter from you, and t you o anot of try, I t I’d just set of, and get a look at you before you e out of my reach.”

    “I am afraid you are disappointed in me, Bessie.” I said t Bessie’s glance, t expressed regard, did in no se admiration.

    “No, Miss Jane, not exactly: you are genteel enoug is as muced of you: you y as a child.”

    I smiled at Bessie’s frank ans t it , but I confess I  quite indifferent to its import: at eig people ion t t an exterior likely to second t desire brings anyt gratification.

    “I dare say you are clever, tinued Bessie, by he piano?”

    “A little.”

    t and opened it, and to sit doz or two, and she was charmed.

    “t play as hem in learning: and can you draw?”

    “t is one of my paintings over t er colours, of o tendent, in ackno of ion tee on my behalf, and which she had framed and glazed.

    “ell, t is beautiful, Miss Jane! It is as fine a picture as any Miss Reed’s draer could paint, let alone t come near it: and  French?”

    “Yes, Bessie, I can bot and speak it.”

    “And you can work on muslin and canvas?”

    “I can.”

    “Oe a lady, Miss Jane! I kne on ice you or not. ted to ask you. he Eyres?”

    “Never in my life.”

    “ell, you knoe despicable: and t I believe try as to Gatesed to see you; Missis said you  scy miles off; ed, for  stay: o a foreign country, and to sail from London in a day or tleman, and I believe her.”

    “ foreign country was o, Bessie?”

    “An island tler did tell me—”

    “Madeira?” I suggested.

    “Yes, t is it—t is the very word.”

    “So ?”

    “Yes;  stay many minutes in terradesman.’ My Robert believes .”

    “Very likely,” I returned; “or per to a wine- merc.”

    Bessie and I conversed about old times an o leave me: I sa morning at Loed finally at t Arms t e o meet to take o Gatesed to bear me to neies and a nee.