about her shoulders, genteel in form and pretty in feature, was already looking from eyes that were putting on the famine stare. "What can be done with that helpless, proud, interesting girl?" said Mr. Bourne, as we passed away; "she must die in all her pride, if some relief is not speedily found! she cannot work, she would not go to the work-house, and there, upon that desolate mountain, she will probably pine away unheeded!" I have not heard what became of this pretty girl of the mountain since. "She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride." Another interesting character, the antipodes of the mountain girl, resided in the family of Mr. Bourne. Nature had endowed her with good sense, education had enlarged her intellect, and traveling had given her that ease of manner and address that made her accessible to all, without stooping from that dignity which properly repels all uncourteous familiarity. She had passed through great reverses:—had been to India—there had a handsome legacy bequeathed—was shipwrecked and lost all;—went to South and North America—her health was destroyed, but her heart subdued, and brought into sweet submission to Christ, and she resolved to spend the remainder of her days in doing good to others, however humble their station might be. She had heard of this family, stationed on this desolate spot, who had interesting sons and daughters that wished for instruction. There she went, and determined to die and be buried there, secluded from the world. She had written her travels, but had placed
