professors; and, I know, you think there is nothing binds hearts together like religion-that bond endures where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage." Poor Jane had listened to Mary's pros and cons with considerable calmness; but now she laid her head in her friend's lap, and gave vent to the feelings she had been all day arguing down, by a flood of tears. "Ah! my dear Jane, is it there the shoe pinches? I an't sorry to find you have thought of it though. If the 'candle of the Lord' is lighted up in the heart, we ought to look at every thing by that light. But now you have decided, turn to the bright side. I don't know much about Mr. Erskine; he is called a nice young man, and who knows what he may become, when he sees how good and how beautiful it is to have the whole heart and life ordered and governed by the christian rule. I often think to myself, Jane, that your life, and Mr. Lloyd's too, are better than preaching. Don't take on so, my child," she continued, soothingly; "you have Scripture for you; for the Bible says, 'the believing wife may sanctify the unbelieving husband;" and that must mean that her counsel and example shall win him back to the right way, and persuade him to walk in the paths of holiness. Cheer up, my child, there is good missionary work before you; and I feel as if you had many happy days to come yet. Those that sow in tears, shall reap with joy. It is a load off my mind, at any rate, that you are away from your aunt's, and under good Mrs. Harvey's roof. I stopped at your aunt's on my way here, and she raised a hue and cry about your leaving her house so suddenly; she said, your grand fortune had turned your head; 'she was not disappointed, she had never expected any gratitude from you! but 'twas not for worldly hire she did her duty!' Poor, poor soul! I would not judge her uncharitably; but I do believe she has the hope that will perish.' I just took no notice of her, and came away. As I was passing through the kitchen, Sukey says to me, 'Mrs. Wilson may look out for other help, for now Miss Jane is gone out from us, I shan't stay to hear nothing but disputings, and scoldings, and prayers.' 'But,' says I, 'Sukey, you don't object to the prayers?' 'Yes,' says she, 'I don't like lip prayers—it is nothing but a mockery.'" "Sukey has too much reason," replied Jane. "But now, Mary, you must not think from what you have seen that I am not happy, for I have reason to be grateful, and I ought to be very, very happy." 'Ought, thought Mary, 'she may be contented, and resigned, and even cheerful, because she ought—but happiness is not duty-work.' However, she had discretion enough to suppress her homely metaphysics; and patting Jane's head affectionately, she replied, "Yes, my child, and if you wish it, I will set these tears down for tears of joy, not sorrow." Jane smiled at her friend's unwonted sophistry, and they parted: Mary, confirmed in a favourite notion, that every allotment of Providence is designed as a trial for the character; that all will finally work together for good; and that Jane was going on in the path to perfection, which, though no Methodist, she was not (in her partial friend's opinion) far from attaining. Jane was very much relieved by Mary's wise suggestions and sincere sympathy. A sagacious observer of human nature and fortunes has said, that "if there were more knowledge, there would be less envy." The history of our heroine is a striking exemplification of the truth of this remark: when all was darkness without, she had been looked upon by the compassionate as an object of pity, for they could not see the sunshine of the breast; and now that she was considered as the chief favourite of the fickle goddess, there was not one that would have envied her, if the internal conflict she suffered-if that most unpleasant of all feelings, disagreement with herself, had been as visible as her external fortunes were. Erskine was in too good humour with himself, and with Jane, to find fault with any thing: yet he certainly was a little disappointed, that in spite of his earnest persuasions to the contrary, she firmly persisted in the plan of the school; and we fear he was surprised, perhaps slightly mortified, that she showed no more joy at having secured a hand and a station, to which he knew so many had aspired. CHAPTER XII. The world is still deceived with ornament. MERCHANT OF VENICE. JANE entered upon the duties of her new vocation with more energy and interest than could have been reasonably expected from a young lady who had so recently entered into an engagement of marriage, and one which opened upon her the most flattering prospects. She already felt the benefits resulting from the severe discipline she had suffered in her aunt's family. She had a rare habit of putting self aside; of deferring her own inclinations to the will, and interests, and inclinations of others. A superficial survey of the human mind. in all its diversity of conditions, will convince us that it may be trained to any thing; else, how shall we account for the proud exultation of a savage amidst the cruellest tortures his triumphant enemy can inflict; or for any of the wonderful phenomena of enterprise, of fortitude, of patience, in beings whose physical natures are so constituted, that they instinctively shrink from suffering? Our fair young readers (if any of that class condescend to read this unromantic tale) will smile at the idea that Jane had any farther occasion for the virtues of adversity; but she was far from being happy; she had not that firm confidence in the character of her lover that could alone have inspired the joy of hope, and secured a quiet spirit. Since her engagement, and even before, and ever since she had been interested in Erskine, she had not dared to sound the depths of her heart. Though quite a novice in the experience of love, she would have been able to detect its subtleties; she would have been able to ascertain the nature, and amount of her affection for Erskine, had she not been driven by his apparent magnanimity, and the oppression of her relations, to a sudden decision. We appeal then once more to our fair young readers, and trust their justice will award to our heroine some praise, for her spirited and patient performance of her duties to her young pupils, who were very far from imagining that their kind and gentle teacher had any thing in the world to trouble her, or to engage her mind, but their wants and pursuits. Her disquietude did not escape the quickened vision of her vigilant friend Mr. Lloyd; he observed the shadows of anxiety settling on her usually bright and cheerful countenance, but even he had no conception of the extent of her busy apprehensions and secret misgivings. Week after week passed away, and there seemed to be no prospect that any thing would occur to free Jane from the very unpleasant situation in which her aunt's accusations had placed her. Erskine became restless and impatient, derided all Jane's arguments in favor of delaying their marriage, and finally affected to distrust her affection for him. If the undefined, and undefinable sentiment which was compounded in Jane's heart of youthful preference and gratitude, was not |