write about gratitude; but I am sure her conduct is evil and unthankful enough."
As Jane returned to her seat, her face brightened with the relief of having got through. Edward Erskine exclaimed to the young man next him, "By Jove, it is the most elegant composition I ever heard from a girl. Jane Elton has certainly grown very handsome."
"Yes," replied his friend; "I always thought her pretty, but you prefer her cousin."
"I did prefer her cousin," answered Erskine; "but I never noticed Jane much before; she is but a child, and she has always looked so pale and so sad since the change in her family. You know I have no fancy for solemn looks. Elvira is certainly handsome—very handsome; she is a cheating little devil; but, for all that, she is gay, and spirited, and amusing. It is enough to make any body deceitful to live with such a stern, churlish woman, as Mrs. Wilson. The girl has infinite ingenuity in cheating her mother, and her pretty face covers a multitude of faults."
"So I should think," replied his friend, "from the character you have given her. You will hardly applaud the deceits that have led to the disgrace of this morning."
"Oh, no!" answered Erskine; "but I am sorry for her mortification."
The exhibition proceeded; but as our heroine had no further concern with it, neither have we; except to say, that it was equally honourable to the preceptor and pupils. The paraphernalia of
