our choicest treasures, it is never the lover to be wooed and won.
About three months after Amelia was bom. When laid in her mother's arms, she turned her face away with a look and tone those present could never forget, saying, "God forbid that she should live to suffer what I have suffered; better that she should never see the dawn of another day!" But Amelia was destined to live, to thank God for the life he had given her. She was a dull, spiritless child, yet a close observer could perceive that there was not so much lack of talent, as want of development. Her mother was too broken-hearted to infuse much animation, which was very essential to such a passive nature as Amelia's. She was shy of every body, and her home, poor as it was, constituted her world, for it was all she knew of it. Mr. Crawford was now an abject of constant terror. Unfit for any regular occupation, no hour of the day was secure from his intrusion, and, as if to vex his wife to the utmost, ho sought every means to annoy and abuse Amelia.
The first time she ever manifested any enthusiasm was when accompanying her mother to Mr. Claremont's, she heard the sound of music, and looked up with a pleased expression, saying, "Oh mother, what is that?" He being present, persuaded her to go into the parlor where his wife was playing on the piano. She even permitted him to take her into his lap, sitting like one entranced until the music ceased when she resumed her former listless expression, and slid down immediately to her mother's side. This little incident awakened quite an interest in
