ley is still good for another two years' cultivation of that pretty little person's mind. How I shall hate the needlework and the bread and butter, and the making my own bed every morning! and oh! how I shall have to mend my manners and revise my vocabulary! Remarks that are merely spicy among ourselves may be regarded by a schoolmistress in a different light, and our freedom and ease of invective and retort be considered immoral.
Everybody is out this evening, papa and all, and I have not a soul to speak to but Paul Pry, who does not understand if I do talk to him. I cannot even make myself of use by playing gooseberry. How Alice will miss me when I am gone! The ghost of a tear comes into my eye at this touching thought (which is after all nothing but that pitié de soi-même that is at once so pitiful and so natural). They cannot choose but miss me, though, I befear me, the cause of my being so regretted will be but selfish. Love on, poor lovers! By Christmas your billings and cooings will be over, and you, Mr. Charles, will be sent to the right-about. How the governor's patience has lasted as long as it has done, I can't imagine. It is dull work marching about here all alone, with no fruit trees to rob, or sociable soul to exchange remarks with. I have not seen George since that fatal day, although he has been here two or three times. Somehow I cannot forgive him for having been a witness to my disgrace, and I owe him a grudge for having a nasty little father who did see Dolly and me when we bolted into the chemist's shop, and, meeting papa on the hill, told him, but with no malicious intent, that he had just seen us; hence the catastrophe. There never was anybody as unlucky as I am; everything has gone wrong with me ever since I was born, and everything will continue to do until my death, which is certain to take place in some unseemly, unexpected manner, at some unsuitable time and spot. I suppose my own bad conduct is at the bottom of most of my misfortunes, though. Now, that
