Earnshaw blushed crimson, when his cousin made this revelation of his private literary accumulations, and stammered an indignant denial of her accusations.
"Mr. Hareton is desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge," I said, coming to his rescue. "He is not envious but emulous o your attainments—He'll be a clever scholar in a few years!"
"And he wants me to sink into a dunce, meantime," answered Catherine. "Yes, I hear him trying to spell and read to himself, and pretty blunders he makes! I wish you would repeat Chevy Chase, as you did yesterday—It was extremely funny! I heard you. . .and I heard you turning over the dictionary, to seek out the hard words, and then cursing, because you couldn't read their explanations!"
The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for his ignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove it. I had a similar notion, and, re-
