KATHARINE SEWARD.

I SHALL make no apology, my gentle reader, for suddenly introducing myself into your presence; for I trust that the moral of my tale will appear to be of sufficient consequence to have excited me to such a

measure.

I shall begin by informing you that my name is Katharine Seward, that my father and mother were removed by death while I was still an infant, and that I was consequently educated by my paternal grandmother, being her sole descendant, and thus became the child of many tears and many prayers, my grandmother being not only a tender-hearted, but a truly pious woman.

When an opulent family terminates in one descendant in the right line, it is to be expected that that individual will inherit considerable property; I was, therefore, always regarded as a young person of great expectations; and in consequence, was envied by some, flattered by others, and anxiously cared for by a third class.

My grandmother's residence was situate in a small town; she occupied the largest house, and kept the largest establishment in the place; and her household consisted, for the most part, of servants who had grown old under her roof. In the same town lived a younger branch of our family, which was by no means so opulent as ours, and to which my existence was accordingly a matter of some regret; for had I been out of the way the children of this family, consisting of one son and one daughter, would have been my grandmother's heirs. The son, Francis Seward, was some years older than myself, and was so seldom at home, that I hardly ever saw him. But the daughter, who was commonly called Miss Dora Seward, was nearly of my own age, so that we sometimes played together, during the early years of our childhood, though I never enjoyed her society, for

she was very captious and fretful, and took advantage of the small superiority of her age constantly to maintain her own opinion in opposition to mine; and this she persisted in with so much pertinacity, that my nurse was often obliged to interfere in my behalf. In consequence of these early disputes, I imbibed a settled distaste for Dora's society which she took little pains to

remove.

My grandmother's notions of education were quite of the old-fashioned sort; for she kept me from school till I was ten years old, exercising me herself at home in needle-work and reading; a few chapters in the Bible being my daily study. I was likewise taught to repeat Watts's Hymns, to practise the rules of old fashioned politeness, and to attend to perfect neatness in my dress.

Being naturally mild (at least I may say that violence of temper was not one of my besetting sins), I was very well contented, indeed perfectly happy, at that time, with my indulgent grandmother, notwithstanding that I was excluded from the usual exciting pleasures of childhood. At ten years old, however, I was sent to a school in which the system of tuition was admirably adapted for carrying on the kind of education which had been commenced by my grandmother. At fourteen I returned home, my school-days being now considered at an end, and I was established at my grandmother's, having a room allotted to me within hers, a nurse appointed to attend me, and every other comfort provided for me, which a person of my expectations could reasonably desire.

I loved my grandmother sincerely. Indeed, she was a sweet and cheerful companion; and every servant in the house was anxious to please me. I therefore thought that I ought to be very happy, and yet I sometimes felt dejected without knowing why; though reflection and experience have now made me understand better the causes of the uneasiness which I then often felt.

I was just fourteen when I left school; and was as healthy and as lively a girl as ever bloomed in this our pleasant climate. My feelings were warm, and indeed ardent, and I wanted some object on which to employ them. I required more exercise, and occupations of a more interesting nature, than fell to my lot at the period of which I speak. It would perhaps have been bene

ficial if I had been set to walk five miles a day, or to overlook a little school, or to enter upon some difficult study, or even to make every bed and to sweep every room in the house. But my grandmother (in common with many other old persons) had forgotten the feelings of her youth, and was, in consequence, quite unconscious of the injury she did me, when she expected me to sit for hours at work in her parlour, and listen to the conversation of the worthy old people who visited her; or when she supposed that I could attend with satisfaction, for any length of time, to that sort of reading which was interesting to herself. I had not, however, at that period of my life, conceived an idea that it would ever be possible for me to commit an act of open disobedience; I had been too well brought up to entertain such a notion. And yet to this day I can remember the kind of sensation I had when I had thus been confined many hours; it was a sort of impatience and agitation, with a longing desire to throw my books and my work away, and to run out into the fields.

At length some little symptoms of ill health appearing in me, our physician hinted that I was too much confined, and advised that I should have some young.companion to associate with me.

My grandmother was all anxiety to do every thing necessary for me, and proposed to me to invite my cousin Dora to spend some months with me in the house. This proposal, however, as might have been expected, did not please me; and then my grandmother mentioned a distant relation, on her mother's side, who resided near London, a Miss Ducey, whose eircumstances, she said, were not affluent, and who would enjoy a visit into the country, and not refuse to receive a few presents. She added that this Miss Ducey was some years older than myself, and, if she remembered correctly what she was when she had seen her some time past, she believed her to be a very good-natured, pleasing young woman. I liked the notion of Miss Ducey's company much better than that of Dora; and a letter was accordingly written to invite her to visit us.

No sooner did this prospect of a companion open before me, than most of my complaints disappeared, and the physician quite smiled at the sudden and happy effect of his prescription.

An answer arrived from Miss Ducey by post as soon

as it was possible, wherein she expressed her thanks to my grandmother for her epistle and its enclosure (refering to some money which my grandmother had sent to defray the expenses of her journey, and to add to her wardrobe), and promised that she would be with us in a very few days. It happened that Dora Seward was in my grandmother's parlour, when the letter arrived; my grandmother desired me to read it aloud, which, when I had done, Dora changed colour, and expressed great

amazement.

"What Duceys are those?" she asked; "I never heard of them before."

"Relations of mine,” replied my grandmother.

"Well, it is very odd that I should have never heard of them before," remarked Dora. "And when do you say that this Miss Ducey is to come?" And she added many more questions, few of which I could answer. The next day Dora called again, and repeated her visits much oftener than usual, till Miss Ducey came, and she was in fact in our house when the stranger arrived.

It was evening when Miss Ducey entered my grandmother's parlour, and she seemed fatigued and in disorder, from travelling all night and all day. Notwithstanding these unpropitious circumstances, however, I was quite in raptures with her at first sight. She was a tall, fair young person, with laughing blue eyes, and when she smiled (which she did very frequently), she showed a set of teeth as white as milk. Fatigued as she was, however, she talked incessantly, and seemed to consider my grandmother's kindness as an almost unheard-of act of benevolence.

We were just setting down to supper when the traveller arrived. While we were supping, Dora seldom took her eyes off the stranger, and yet was so absent, that when any one happened to address her, she started and seemed to have some difficulty in collecting her ideas so as to be able to answer. At length, Dora took her leave; and Miss Ducey and I were left to cement our friendship as rapidly as we could. As it had been judged improper for my health that I should sleep alone, Miss Ducey was to be my bedfellow; and this arrangement gave us many charming opportunities of communicating our ideas to each other, few of which we entirely lost.

This first night, our door was scarcely shut upon us,

and the maid withdrawn, before my new friend addressed me to the following effect, "You cannot think, my dear Miss Katharine, how vastly pleased I was when I got your grandmamma's letter. It was so kind of Mrs. Seward to think of me, that I was so delighted, I hardly knew what I was about; only that I was sorry to hear that you were not well; but you look quite charming now, and I am so happy. And then I have heard so much of you; you can't think what is said of you in town. I heard a gentleman the other day declare that you were grown to be the most elegant girl in all the country; only he said your grandmamma kept you too much in, and did not let you go out enough. Do you never go to the assemblies? Well, how strange! what a pity, and you turned sixteen! And you have learned to dance too, and I am sure you dance uncommon well. But we must get Mrs. Seward to let you go out more. Dancing is so good for the health, so uncommonly good! But how tall you are, taller than me, I am sure, by an inch at least! and so fair, so uncommon fair! But you should not wear green, it makes you look too pale. You should wear peach-blossom; it's all the fashion now, and it would so set off your sweet complexion. And you must let me dress your hair; it's uncommon fine hair, and I shall have such pleasure in dressing it!" with much else to the same purpose.

Thus my new friend rambled from one subject to another, while I listened as if I had been suddenly transported into a new world. Other occasions, too, presented themselves, affording her ample opportunities for the exercise of her conversational powers, which seemed by no means deficient; and as she saw more of me, and we became better accustomed to each other, her discourse became increasingly dangerous, for we very soon entered upon subjects still more mischievous than those of dress and amusements. In these conversations, she brought me to confess and to believe many things which I had scarcely even thought of till thus indiscreetly drawn out to talk about them. At the same time, I do not mean to assert, that this Miss Ducey intended to flatter or mislead me. I believed she was nothing worse than a warm-hearted, giddy, indiscreet young person, full of grateful feelings on account of the favours we were heaping on her, proud of my grandmother's notice,. and elated by the new style of life into which she was