tages: and many were the blessings bestowed upon Emma Vere by the sufferers she had relieved in the hour of distress.

In returning from one of these humane visits, Emma threw herself into the arms of her beloved governess, tears prevented her speaking for some time: at length, in a broken voice, she exclaimed, How much do I owe you, my beloved friend, for the happiness I now enjoy ;-happiness which, but for you, I should never have tasted. Let my

conduct for the future evince my gratitude; -be still my friend-my guide-my adviser: and never again will I pain you, by suffering my vanity to get the better of my reason.

Madame Dupont pressed her tenderly to her bosom, and, with a tearful eye, thanked the bountiful Giver of all good for the happy change he had wrought in her disposition.

In a few days afterwards they received the intelligence of the safe accouchement of Mrs. Vere, who had presented her delighted husband with a son, and his every wish was gratified.

In his joy, however, his absent daughter

D

was not forgotten; she received from him a handsome present. Part of which she bestowed upon the neighbouring peasantry; the use she made of the remainder you will shortly hear.

Madame Dupont was surprised by her asking her leave one morning to go to the next town. She was attended there by one of the servants; but their errand remained a profound secret, as her governess never obliged her to confide in her matters of no consequence, well knowing that she would not take any step of importance without her advice. As she, therefore, had always pointed out a curious prying disposition as a mean and odious character, she made no enquiries about the motive of her going there.

About a week afterwards, as she was sitting at work alone in the drawing-room, a servant entered and delivered a smali parcel, directed to her in a hand which she did not immediately recollect: on opening it, she was much surprised at beholding a plain but very neat gold ring, with the word "Gratitude" engraven on it,

In a moment the visit to the neighbouring town was remembered by her, and that it was a present from her pupil she no longer doubted. On rising to seek her, a small note, which she had not before noticed, dropped to the ground; she picked it up, and read these words

"Accept, my beloved governess, this small token of the gratitude of your affectionate pupil, Emma Vere."

Sweet were the tears which Madame Dupont shed over this proof of her pupil's regard; her eyes were yet wet when she entered the room. Their meeting I shall not attempt to describe suffice it to say, it was tender in the extreme.

In a short time they again returned to town, where Madame Dupont had the satisfaction of observing her pupil still continue in the paths of virtue. Beloved and admired by every one around her, as much for the amiable sweetness of her disposition as for the beauty of her person. As she grew up, she was often heard to say, that the birth of her brother was the most fortunate incident of her life; as,

had he not come into the world, she never should have been left so entirely to the guidance of the good and benevolent Madame Dupont, to whose instructions she was so much indebted. Thus you see, my dear children, (continued Mrs. Stanly) that the loss of more than half her fortune by the birth of her brother, was the means of making Emma Vere a valuable member of society, happy in herself, and admired by her friends; instead of growing up a weak vain woman, despised by all.

The young friends expressed themselves much pleased with the story: after thanking Mrs. Stanly for it, they chatted together, till the servant announced tea.

CHAP. IV.

THE next day the young people were surprised that Augusta did not as usual come into their room. Being dressed, and having waited for some time, they descended without her, and were gaily tripping into the breakfastparlour, when on entering it they suddenly paused, on observing her seated at a table with four or five poor but neatly dressed children standing round her. They were repeating something, which every now and then Augusta stopped them to explain.

Surprised at the scene, they looked at their aunt for an explanation, who, observing their enquiring glances, took each of them kindly by the hand, and, after leading them to a distant part of the room where she might speak without interrupting the young group round the table, she thus addressed them:

You, my dear children, doubtlessly must have forgotten that the day was Sunday, or I