"Chiroplast, Jane; you must learn to say chiroplast. No, Miss Morton does not want a chiroplast, no more will you, when you can play better. She does not like the chiroplast ma'am, though she took to it wonderfully at first. I had her taught upon Logier's system; I have spared no pains in giving her an early taste for music. I took her last spring to see the infant Lyra-I thought it would excite her emulation. Do you remember the little Lyra Jane? When will you do any thing like that? Only think how well that little girl played upon that great harp!"

"But her harp is not so big as my piano forte," said the little musician, rather piqued by the comparison.

"True, my love, but she plays it better. Edward, my dear, don't touch that-and do stand straight, or you will grow quite crooked. Come here; hold yourself up, as the soldiers do. We think him very like his father-but you must not pull those faces-you don't look like papa when you do

80."

Mrs. Poole and Lady Appleby, nevertheless, professed themselves much struck with the likeness to Mr. Bingley. Agnes could not find it out, and avoided the question, by inquiring Master Edmund's age.

"Seven, next month," said Mrs. Bingley. "We think of sending him soon to school-Mr. Bingley wishes it-I am sure it is more than I do-for I dare say he will not learn so much as at home.-In fact, it is my plan to be always teaching them some little thing, and not to let an hour slip without putting something into their heads, and by all means to give them a habit of asking questions. Edmund was asking me this morning about the weatherglass: why it falls in rainy weather.-Do you remember Edmund? Why does the glass fall?"

"It is not the glass, it is the quicksilver as falls,"

said Master Edmund, with the matured confidence

of seven years old.

"As falls!' that falls.

Mind your English.And what makes the quicksilver fall?"

"The weight of the air," said the young philosopher.

"Very well remembered, Edmund. You see"turning to her visiters, "you see the nature of my system. There is no doing children proper justice without being constantly at them."

At this moment the nurse entered to summon the children to their dinner; and they were reluctantly dismissed by their admiring parent, though not without receiving her parting directions to make their obeisances in due form, and mind how they went out of the room. The little girls grasped their frocks, and dropped their retiring curtseys, at the imminent danger of tumbling backwards; and Master Edmund striding out sideways, to the full extent of one of his short legs, drew the other after it; then, after lowering his head to his knees, as if he were going to throw a summerset, regained once more an upright posture, and sidled out of the room according to directions, without turning his back on the company. Soon after this the gentlemen returned, and the visit was at length concluded.

"What a sweet woman Mrs. Bingley is!" said Lady Appleby, on her way homewards, " and what astonishing pains she takes with her children!"

"Lord! poor things!" exclaimed Mrs. Poole, “I think she overworks them sadly-I was quite sorry for the poor children. I dare say, as she says, she is always at them-I hate to see people so strict and particular, and cramming children so shockingly early. It is well, perhaps, that I have none, for if I had, I am afraid I should spoil them. I am fond of giving them a little indulgence-are not you, Miss Morton?"

Of the two extremes," said Agnes, "I pro

bably should prefer indulgence. Severity, however, does not seem to be the faulty part of Mrs. Bingley's system. Her foible is rather that of being too anxious and attentive, and expecting more than is natural and necessary. 29

"I should not care," said Mrs. Poole, "how little was learnt, at that very early age."

"I will not go quite that length," replied Agnes. "I should certainly wish them to learn something; but I should think it was of more consequence to attend to their dispositions, and give them correct notions of right and wrong. I should be rather afraid of encouraging a feeling of rivalry. It would make them learn more; but it would be at the risk of injuring their tempers."

"Yes, I hate rivalry," pursued Mrs. Poole, "and also the system of showing them off-I am sure it must make them conceited. Children must be dull indeed if they don't get a high opinion of their own importance, from seeing themselves so much. attended to. They will soon learn to fancy that they are entitled to more notice than they have any right to expect. Did you ever see such a selfsufficient little old man of a child, as they have made of Lord Langley, Lord and Lady Brereton's little boy? They have drilled, and crammed, and be-praised, and be-tutored the poor child, till he thinks himself as great as a prince of the blood." "Like the little German Duke of Radded Lacy, "who observed, with some surprise, that an old officer, who had come to see him was not embarrassed in his presence. But, Mrs. Poole, I don't think this self-sufficiency comes merely from over-tutoring. You will find, I dare say, many an ignorant child just as conceited as one that has been crammed from his cradle. However, I quite agree with what Miss Morton was saying about rivalry; and as for early prodigies, I suspect that they are of

little use but to gratify the vanity of parents and teachers,"

"Very likely," said Miss Morton; " but it is an amiable kind of vanity, and one should not treat it very severely."

Lacy assented, and with a look of more genuine approbation than he had hitherto bestowed upon her. He had been pleased with the simple tone of unaffected good sense, which her observations had evinced. The subject was by no means such as young men and young ladies, generally, discuss; and the style of the conversation had much more of a didactic character, than is often suffered to prevail. Perhaps, however, it had not the less effect on that account. Men are generally disposed to give ample credit to the other sex, for the possession of vivacity and a competent portion of the graces; but clear, natural good sense is a less obvious quality, and is therefore more prized by them, when unostentatiously displayed. Having broken the ice, Lacy talked a good deal to Agnes; was much pleased and amused with her remarks; and found himself irresistibly impressed with a very favourable opinion of her mental endowments.

CHAPTER V.

Why should I call 'em fools? The world thinks better of 'em; for these have quality, and education, wit, and fine conversation, and are received and admired by the world. If not, they like and admire themselves; and why is not that true wisdom?

THE first step towards the removal of dislike, is at once the most difficult and the most effectual, and this being taken, no other than a favourable result could be anticipated. But the prejudices of Lacy were as yet only softened, not disarmed; and though he could not refuse to acknowledge the beauty of Agnes, he was far from being a willing admirer. He was ready to admit that she was clever, lively, sensible, and observant. To her disposition he was hitherto a stranger, and he easily allowed himself to think, that she might be deficient in liberality and good nature. Though he had been amused by her remarks, he was inclined to quarrel with her quick perception of the ridiculous, and thought he perceived a greater tendency to satire, than accorded with his beau ideal of female propriety.

He might, however, have observed, had he been willing to be otherwise than censorious, that her satire was always light and playful, and that she was ever a willing advocate when an absent person was wantonly assailed. He might also have observed, that even where she had no sufficient grounds for an actual defence, her good nature