one of the most offensive of all the rites of those savage nations that were under the immediate and visible government of the prince of this world; and finally, he referred them to the church documents, those precious records of the piety, and wisdom, and faithfulness of their ancestors; and they would there find a rule which prohibited any church member from "frequenting, or being present at, a ball, or dance, or frolic, or any such assembly of Satan," and they would moreover find that such transgressions had been repeatedly punished by expulsion from the church, and exclusion from all christian ordinances. Some of this gentleman's brethren contented themselves by using their influence in private advice and remonstrance; and a few said they could not see the sin nor the danger of the young people's indulging, with moderation, in a healthful exercise and innocent recreation adapted to their season of life; that what the moral and pious Locke had strenuously advocated, and the excellent Watts approved, it did not become them to frown upon; but they should use their efforts in restraining the young people within the bounds of moderation.

The result was, that our dancing-master obtained a few schools and one in the village which enjoyed the privilege of Mrs. Wilson's light. She, filled with alarm, 'lifted up her

voice and spared not.'

Some of her warmest admirers thought

her clamor had more of valor in it than discretion.

Notwithstanding the violence of the opposition, and perhaps aided by it, the dancing-school was at length fairly established, and some of the elderly matrons of the village, who had considered dances as the orgies of Satan, were heard to confess that, when properly regulated, they might furnish an amusement not altogether unsuited to youth, and that they did not, in point of propriety, suffer by a comparison

with the romps, forfeits, and cushion-dances of their younger days.

At Mrs. Wilson's instance, two new weekly meetings were appointed, on the same evenings with the dancing-school; the one to be a conference in the presence of the young people, and the other a catechetical lecture for them. These her daughters were compelled to attend, in spite of the bold and turbulent opposition of Martha, and the well-concerted artifices of Elvira.

Elvira expressed her surprise at Jane's patience under the new dispensation. "To be sure, Jane," she said, "you have not the trial that I have, about the dancing-school, for a poor girl can't expect such accomplishments.-I do so long to dance! It was in the mazy dance Edward Montreville first fell in love with Selina;-but then these odious-these hateful meetings! Oh, I have certainly a natural antipathy to them; you do not always have to attend them; mother is ready enough to let you off, when there is any hard job to be done in the family;—well, much as I hate work, I had rather work than go to meeting. Tell me honestly, Jane, would not you like to learn to dance, if you were not obliged to wear deep mourning, and could afford to pay for it?"

Jane, all used as she was to the coarseness of her cousins, would sometimes feel the colour come unbidden to her cheeks, and she felt them glow as she replied, "I learned to dance, Elvira, during the year I spent at Mrs. Benson's boardingschool."

"La, is it possible? I never heard you say a word about it."

"No," said Jane; "many things have happened to me that you never heard me say a word about."

"Oh! I dare say, Miss Jane. Every body knows your

cold, reserved disposition. My sensibility would destroy me, if I did not permit it to flow out into a sympathizing bosom."

"But now, Jane," said she, shutting the door, and lowering her voice, "I have hit upon a capital plan to cheat mother. There is to be a little ball to-night, after the school; and I have promised Edward Erskine to go with him to it. For once, Jane, be generous, and lend me a helping-hand. In the first place, to get rid of the meeting, I am going to put a flannel round my throat, to tell my mother it is very sore, and I have a head-ache; and then I shall go to bed; but as soon as she is well out of the house, I shall get up and dress me, and wind that pretty wreath of yours, which I'm sure

you will lend me, around my head, and meet Erskine just at

the pear-tree, at the end of the garden. Then, as to the return, you know you told mother you could not go to meeting, because you was going to stay with old Phillis, and I just heard the doctor say, he did not believe she would live the night through. This is clear luck, what mother would call providential. At any rate, you know, if she should not be any worse, you can sit up till 12 o'clock, and I will just tap at Phillis's bed-room window, and you won't refuse, Jane, to slip the bolt of the outside door for me."

Jane told her she could not take part in her projects; but Elvira, trusting to the impulse of her cousin's good-nature, adhered to her plan.

Mrs. Wilson was not, on this occasion, so keen-eyed as usual. She had, that very day, received proposals of marriage from a broken merchant; and though she had no idea of hazarding her estates and liberty, she was a good deal fluttered with what she would fain have believed to be a compli ment to her personal charms. Every thing succeeded to Elvira's most sanguine expectations. Her mother went to the

conference. Elvira, arrayed in all the finery her own wardrobe supplied, and crowned with Jane's wreath, went off to meet her expecting gallant, leaving Jane by the bedside of Phillis; and there the sweet girl kindly watched alone, till after the return of the family from the conference, till after the bell had summoned the household to the evening prayer, and till after the last lingering sound of fastening doors, windows, &c., had died away.

The poor old invalid was really in the last extremity; her breathing grew shorter and more interrupted; her eyes assumed a fearful stare and glassiness. Jane's fortitude forsook her, and she ventured to call her aunt, who had but just entered the room, when the poor creature expired.

In the last struggle she grasped Jane's hand; and as her fingers released their hold, and the arm fell beside her, Jane raised it up, and gently laying it across her body, and retaining the hand for a moment in her own, she said, "Poor Phillis! how much hard work you have done with this hand, and how many kindnesses for me. Your troubles are all

over now."

"You take upon you to say a great deal, Jane," replied her aunt. "Phillis did not give me satisfying evidence of a saving faith."

"But," said Jane, as if she did not quite comprehend the import of her aunt's remark, " Phillis was very faithful over her little."

"That's nothing to the purpose, Jane," answered Mrs. Wilson.

Jane made no reply, unless the tear she dropped on her old friend might be deemed one, and Mrs. Wilson added,

"Now, child, you must get the things together, to lay her out." Then saying, that Phillis's sickness had been a bill of

cost to her, and quite overlooking her long life of patient and profitable service, she gave the most sordid directions as to the selection of provisions for the last wants of the poor menial. Jane went out of the room to execute her orders.

She had scarcely gone, when Mrs. Wilson heard the window carefully raised, and some one said, "Here I am, Jane; go softly and slip the bolt of the west door, and don't for the world wake the old lady." By any brighter light than the dim night lamp that was burning on the hearth, Elvira could not have mistaken her dark harsh-visaged mother for her fair cousin. A single glance revealed the truth to Mrs. Wilson. The moonbeams were playing on the wreath of flowers, and Edward Erskine, who was known as the ringleader of the ball-faction, stood beside Elvira. She smothered her rage for a few moments, and creeping softly to the passage, opened the door, and admitted the rebel, who followed her to Phillis's room, saying, "Oh, Jane, you are a dear good soul for once. I have had an ecstatic time. Never try to persuade me not to play off a good trick on mother." By this time they had arrived at Phillis's room, where Jane had just entered with a candle in her hand.

Mrs. Wilson turned to her child, who stood confounded with the sudden detection. "I have caught you," said she, almost bursting with rage; "caught you both!" Then seizing the wreath of flowers, which she seemed to look upon as the hoisted flag of successful rebellion, she threw it on the floor, and crushing it with her foot, she grasped the terrified girl, and pushed her so violently that she fell on the cold body of the lifeless woman: "and you, viper!" continued the furious creature, turning to Jane, "is this my reward for warming you in my bosom? You, with your smooth, hypocritical face, teaching my child to deceive and abuse me. But you shall