pable. Her aunts set the very highest value upon her society, and receive it with gratified rapture; while among her male cousins she is from the first like a missionary in the Feejees. It is she who cures them of their boyish vices, obtaining in return from their supine mothers "a vote of thanks, which made her feel as if she had done a service to her country." At thirteen she discovers that "girls are made to take care of boys," and with dauntless assurance sets about her self-appointed task. "You boys need somebody to look after you," she modestly announces,—most of them are her seniors, by the way, and all have parents,—"so I'm going to do it; for girls are nice peacemakers, and know how to manage people." Naturally, to a young person holding these advanced views of life, Miss Edgeworth's limited field of action seems a very spiritless affair, and we find Rose expressing herself with characteristic energy on the subject of the purple jar, declaring that Rosamond's mother was "regularly mean," and that she "always wanted to shake that woman, though she was a model mamma"! As we read the audacious words, we half expect to see, rising from the
