single hour, which, though the whole of my time was at my disposal, I allowed myself for this species of literary idleness, when standing on a chair in a library I dared not disarrange, I made poet and philosopher, satirist and humourist, help to amuse the light-winged hour of my childish recreations. These hours, these years are gone; they belonged to the happiest, at least of earthly happiness the happiest, -the earliest, of my life. But what is Nanny about all this time? I asked myself, awaking from a reverie, and pushing away the books, few of which had been opened, and none read. I determined to try the effect of a walk in relieving the painful feeling that had seized on me.

A little half-formed path through a field, moist and damp from its vicinity to a bog, was chosen by me, in preference to that along the avenue and shaded road beyond it. This was less like anything about cities, less frequented, and so I continued in it until I found the region of bogs, however uncommon, was by no means comfortable, and that it was as well to proceed in a more beaten track.

I walked on some time, allowing my mind to float on in that dreamy, only half-waking state, so playfully described by the poet Cowper, when apparently busied in thought it has almost ceased to think, But the hum of many voices aroused me; it was that sort of hum which cannot be mistaken, coming from a village or country school. I advanced to the door of a white house, opposite to which I saw Nanny's cottage bonnet hanging on the wall, and looking within it, I perceived her standing in the midst of between forty and fifty girls, with a piece of work in her hands, while several, with their's ready, stood near,

anxious each to be the first to secure her attention. The buzz, however, that had drawn mine, came chiefly from the upper room, where about an equal number of boys were engaged, some in conning their tasks half aloud, some in reading entirely aloud, a few rebellious ones in talking in both of these ways, some casting accounts, and some quietly writing. I sat and looked on for some time, but the hour of dismissal was near, and its approach caused so much commotion, in the boys' room especially, that I instinctively put my hand to my head. Nanny smiled, and taking down her bonnet, stepped with me outside the door, saying I was not accustomed to such places. I felt inclined to prove she was mistaken, and was expatiating on the

'Delightful task, to rear the tender thought,
And teach the young idea how to shoot,'

when the school was dismissed, and out rushed a parcel of wild boys, jostling, driving, elbowing each other into the open air, and not, I suppose, discerning who was before them: away I went, pushed to the brink of a muddy and large pool, from immersion in which I was saved by a sturdy beggar-woman, who extended her arms about me with the whining expostulation, Musha, then is'nt it a shame to go to push the lady that a-way, and yees where ye should larn better manners.' blushed, and altogether laughed at the her students; but the boys were away, running in every direction, gleeful as boys might be let loose from confinement. The girls followed, to do Miss Nanny justice, in much better order.

coming from

Nanny almost

manners' of

Nanny had, I found, many ways' of employing

her time, though she did not devote any part of it to literary idleness, nor a great part of it to that which I always considered as an indispensable in man or woman-reading. However, the wise man has said, "too much study is a weariness to the flesh, and of making many books there is no end;" so also of reading many books I often have thought, "this also is vanity.' And perhaps I was not disposed to quarrel altogether with Nanny's pursuits, when I happened to find her reading the Bible to a miserable object in a miserable cabin; or engaged in some of the many ways' of occupying herself, which a sort of self-delegated office, as her father's assistant in the parish, afforded her.

6

Happy girl! all her desires, hopes, and prospects circumscribed within the bounds of one parish, and these desires, hopes, and projects having one end— the accomplishment of others' good.

After dinner, the rector, in compliment to me, left the simple topics of which he and his daughter generally spoke, to discuss subjects he was well able to converse on, but which I was wearied of hearing elsewhere. Nanny sat silent, partly through undisguised ignorance of such points, and partly from feeling very little interest in them. On this day she sat some time, apparently abstracted in her own intellectual thoughts, when she abruptly enquired

'Papa, what did Kate Connolly want with you this morning?'

The question broke in on ideas so unconnected with it, that the good man felt the suddenness of the transition in withdrawing his mind from the scenes and persons it had wandered to, and bringing it

back to the all-important affairs of his own little world, comprised within his parish.

To beg a holiday for John Jennison to-morrow,' he replied.

'And you granted it, papa, did you not?' Nanny pleaded, placing an elbow on the table as she leaned forward, with a face that might have won the boon if not yet accorded.

The rector shook his head, and threw himself up in his seat, with that air peculiar to himself, yet very dignified, which he always assumed when either his authority was interfered with, or the ground of his principles questioned.

'I am sure George would take his place for tomorrow,' Nanny added.

My dear, as to Jennison leaving his employment for a day, you know that is a matter of no consequence in the world.'

Then why not grant poor Kate's request!'

'Because it is not our duty to grant requests, the reasons for which are wrong.'

‘Oh, papa, I did not know her's had been so.'

(To be continued.)

ROMISH SERVANTS.

MADAM,

IN reading the paper in your last number, upon Romish servants, it occurred to me that a case had lately fallen under my own knowledge, which seemed to oppose the view you took, on the expediency of admitting Roman Catholics among the inmates of your household. You suppose that the mistress of a family may receive a Papist under her roof, indeed that it is her duty to do so, in order to reclaim her, if possible, from the errors of Popery, and bring another lamb within the fold of Christ. This seems right, and excellent, and judicious, so long as the mistress is there, to watch over the other members of her household, and guard them from contamination. But suppose she be suddenly removed. Suppose a mother, with a young family, is taken from them after a short illness; will she not tremble at the thoughts of leaving them exposed to continual contact with one who may instil into their young and susceptible minds the doctrines of her corrupt religion? Lest you should think this an idle supposition, and an occurrence so unlikely as to be unworthy of attention, I proceed to relate a tale which will prove it to be neither the one nor the other.

I am acquainted with a young lady of a good Protestant family, who, at the age of sixteen, declared herself a member of the church of Rome, left her