the place, and interested in the pursuits allotted to her, she would grow less home-sick, and strengthen alike in mind and body.
In the meantime, Mrs. Dalton had commenced the education of Ellen—great preparations were made in the first instance: grammars, catechisms, histories and geographies made easy, maps and multiplication tables, were mingled with boxes of colours, and pieces of music. Moreover, a back-board and collar, a pair of stocks, another of dumb bells, and a small upright chair, showed that the body was to be put into as much training as the mind. Every morning Ellen was to go down into Mrs. Dalton's room, and stay there till three. Day after day she used to return to the nursery, pale, spiritless, and turning with absolute loathing from the dinner which awaited her. The evenings were the long and beautiful ones in summer, but she could scarcely be prevailed on to walk. To rest her head on Eda's knee, without speaking, was all to which she seemed equal. Her kind old nurse trusted that Mrs. Dalton's
