.< K c L 2 T \ 
 
 \4RY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 1 
 CALIFORNIA J 
 
 '#&l 
 
 
m 
 
LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
-X 
 
 
 
 MR. PENN. THE WRITING MASTER. 
 
 (See page 44.) 
 
XS/^£>V~*f ' * ' < V^^V 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 THE PASTRYCOOK'S: 
 
 BEING THE CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 BETWEEN 
 
 KITTY CLOVER AT SCHOOL 
 
 AND 
 
 HER « DEAR, DEAR ERIEND " IN TOWN. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 HORACE MAYHEW. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY PHIZ. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 INGRAM, COOKE, AND CO., 227, STRAND. 
 
 1853. 
 
Jbdc 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 OPENING EXPLANATION BY THE EDITOR ... 1 
 THE FIRST LETTER LEFT. (Dated February 10th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY WAS TAKEN TO SCHOOL BY HER 
 "WICKED MAMMA" 4 
 
 THE SECOND LETTER LEFT. (Dated February 11th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY FARED (OR SCARCELY FARED AT ALL) 
 THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL, AND THE DREADFUL DISASTER 
 THAT BEFEL HER 10 
 
 THE THIRD LETTER LEFT. (No date, and post-marl illegible.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY WAS MARRIED AND THE CONSEQUENCES 
 
 OF THAT IMPRUDENT STEP 16 
 
 THE FOURTH LETTER LEFT. (Dated March 3rd) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME OF HER SCHOOL- 
 FELLOWS .22 
 
 THE FIFTH LETTER LEFT. (Dated March 9th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME MORE OF HER 
 SCHOOLFELLOWS 28 
 
 THE SIXTH LETTER LEFT. (Written on Copy-book Paper, 
 and apparently left by hand.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF GOVERNESSES IN GENERAL, 
 
 AND ONE IN PARTICULAR 34 
 
 THE SEVENTH LETTER LEFT. (Dated April the 9th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON A VERY IMPORTANT DAY, AND 
 WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME OF HER MASTERS . . 40 
 
 THE EIGHTH LETTER LEFT. (Dated April the 19th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF HER GOVERNESSES, AND 
 WHAT THE GOVERNESSES THOUGHT OF EACH OTHER . . 47 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE NINTH LETTER LEFT. {Dated May 1st.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT TOOK PLACE AT SCHOOL ON A MOST IMPORTANT 
 OCCASION 54 
 
 THE TENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated May the 16th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHO WAS THE THIEF 60 
 
 THE ELEVENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated May 29th and 
 Jane 1st.) 
 
 SHOWING UP A TERRIBLE ABUSE, AND A FRIGHTFUL MYSTERY . 68 
 
 THE TWELFTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated June the 2nd.) 
 
 SHOWING VERY PLAINLY WHAT A TAX FORFEITS ARE AND HOW 
 THEY ARE LEVIED ; BESIDES SHOWING HOW YOUNG LADIES 
 ARE TAUGHT THE PROPRIETY OF HAVING A GOOD CARRIAGE . 76 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated June 9th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW FOOLISH IT IS TO PLAY PRACTICAL JOKES . 85 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (The smallest possible 
 size of a Lady's note.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW A YOUNG LADY CAN LEAVE OUT THE MOST 
 IMPORTANT PART OF HER LETTER . . . . .92 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated June 15th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW A LONG PURSE IS SOMETIMES NEEDED AT SCHOOL 
 
 TO MAKE IT "THE HAPPIEST TIME OF OUR LIVES." . . 95 
 
 THE SIXTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bate blotted out this time, 
 decidedly with tears.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT WAS THE CAUSE OF THE POSTPONEMENT OF 
 
 THE BALL 101 
 
 THE SEVENTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated two days before 
 Breaking -up.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT CRUELTIES PRIDE IS FREQUENTLY THE UNNA- 
 TURAL PARENT OF 108 
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Bated « the last night 
 at School") 
 
 SHOWING THAT SCHOOL IS NOT SUCH A TERRIBLE PLACE 
 AFTER ALL . 115 
 
LETTERS 
 
 LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 OPENING EXPLANATION BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 zp ] 
 
 I HE accompanying Letters were rescued 
 from the butter-shop in the most miraculous 
 manner. I had been waiting for some time at 
 |\ a fashionable pastrycook's — which was then in 
 Tottenham-court-road — to keep a business ap- 
 pointment. I had read every ginger-beer and 
 soda-water label round the room. I had admired 
 all the different varieties of architecture and bird- 
 cages, to which barley-sugar lends its glittering but fragile 
 aid. I had carefully noted down on the porcelain tablets of 
 my recollection the many fanciful forms of zoology, into which 
 sponge-cake, like a second Proteus, delights to metamorphose 
 itself. I had watched, with a feeling of envy and tender regret 
 that I couldn't do the same, the little children playing with 
 their Bath buns, first picking out the white plums, which, like 
 pearls, adorned the coronet of their sugary brows, and then 
 slowly eating the bun in small pieces, as if to make the most 
 
2 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK S. 
 
 of a pleasure which they were conscious was too sweet to last 
 for ever. I had imhihed glass after glass of cherry-brandy, 
 until I felt as if another cherry would have choked me ; in 
 short, my patience, my admiration, and my appetite were alike 
 exhausted, and I was registering a vow in that mental office in 
 which indignation sits frowning to receive the vows of lovers, 
 patriots, and all injured persons, never to transact any more 
 business at a pastrycook's shop, when the postman entered, and 
 demanded * tuppence" for an unpaid letter, which he had flung 
 down upon the counter. The young lady standing behind it, 
 with the pretty lace cap that looked so light and frothy, that 
 one's imagination, kindled by the locality, pictured it as having 
 been spun out of a dish of trifle, examined the letter, and, in 
 a sharp tone, which cut short all remonstrance, said, " I shall 
 not take it in." She then pulled down from the shelf a little 
 bundle, black with long neglect, which was lying on an empty 
 box of kisses, and displaying them, like a pack of cards, said, 
 " I have already got all these — not one of them has been fetched 
 away, and I'm determined to take in no more. These I shall 
 sell to-morrow for waste paper." Luckily I had twopence still 
 left after my reckless extravagance of cherry-brandy, and I 
 requested the young lady, in so many words, "to be kind 
 enough to allow me to pay the twopence, and, further, to in- 
 crease the obligation, by adding the letter, which had so narrowly 
 escaped being thrown upon the wide world, to its little lot of 
 orphan companions." These two requests she smilingly com- 
 plied with ; and, a month afterwards, the letters still being in 
 durance vile, she was not proof against the temptation of a 
 large sum of money, which my curiosity, backed by a strong 
 feeling of sympathy, prompted me to give, to release them from 
 their dusty captivity. I should have been well repaid for this 
 
HOW THE LETTERS WERE EVER OPENED. 3 
 
 outlay by the interest of the letters themselves ; but I am bound 
 in justice to state that their ransom money, as well as the 
 twopence originally expended, have been refunded to me since 
 by my liberal publishers, Messrs. Ingram & Cooke. On ex- 
 amination I found there were no names to the correspondence 
 beyond those of " Kitty" and " Nelly,' ' which, being pretty 
 names, I have retained ; neither was there any address inside 
 the letters, nor any clue, indeed, by which I could trace out the 
 fair heroines of them. The other names have either been added, 
 or altered by myself. Under the circumstances, therefore, I 
 hope there is no harm in my publishing a correspondence I came 
 so curiously in possession of. I know nothing whatever of the 
 " Princesses' College," or of the persons whose Christian 
 names are mentioned in it ; and, having fairly purchased the 
 letters, surely I have a right to do what I please with them, 
 more especially when no one is likely to be injured or compro- 
 mised by the innocent result. 
 
 One plea more, and I have done. The object of the letters 
 having been written was, as I imagine, to be read by the person 
 to whom they were directed. It is as clear as isinglass, there- 
 fore, that there is more chance of this object being fulfilled by 
 the letters being circulated far and wide in the drawing-rooms 
 of the civilised world, than in their lying with the inscription 
 " to be left till called for ," carried out most mockingly to the 
 very letter, unopened on a dusty shelf at a pastrycook's shop 
 in Tottenham-court-road. 
 
 With this explanation, I leave "Kitty's Letters" to speak 
 for themselves. The originals are left with the publisher, at 
 the office No. 227, Strand, in case Kitty, or Nelly, should feel 
 inclined to call and claim them in person. 
 
 b2 
 
LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S, 
 
 THE FIKST LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated February 10th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY WAS TAKEN TO SCHOOL BY HER 
 "WICKED MAMMA." 
 
 OH ! my darling Eleanor, it is all over ! — and yet I live ; but 
 I have strong hopes of dying before to-morrow morning. 
 I feel that I can never exist within these hateful walls, to be 
 a wretched slave to Mrs. Rodwell's " maternal solicitude and 
 intellectual culture.'' What do I want with intellectual culture 
 indeed ? But I'm determined I won't learn a bit — not a tinny- 
 tiny bit ! 
 
 I must tell you, dearest, that before leaving home I cried 
 continually for at least three weeks ; but my tears made not 
 the slightest impression on mamma's hard heart, which, I am 
 sure must be stone. More than this, I starved myself during 
 the last three days — did not take one luncheon — even refused 
 pudding ; and at Mrs. St. Vitus's ball would not dance, nor 
 touch a thing at supper. But all in vain ! No one seemed to 
 care a pin about it ; and Ma only appeared to take pleasure in 
 my sufferings. The boys teased, and made cruel jokes upon 
 my misery ; and that detestable Martha helped to get me ready 
 as cheerfully as if I — no, she — was going to be married. The 
 last day I went into hysterics ; and looked so ill — with my 
 red eyes and pale cheeks — that Ma, to my great joy got frigh- 
 tened, and sent for Dr. Leech. But that cross old monster 
 only dangled his bunch of big seals, and said that I should be 
 better at Turnham-green — a little change of air would do me 
 good ! Much he knows about medicine ; for at the very mo- 
 ment he was talking, I felt as if I must have fainted. 
 
 So in a cold drizzling rain — will you believe it, Nelly ? — I 
 
THE MISERABLE RIDE TO SCHOOL. 5 
 
 was dragged into the carriage (for Pa had walked down to the 
 office on foot, carrying his own blue bag, purposely that Ma 
 might have the carriage), and propped up on each side with 
 bags of oranges, cakes, and goodies, to cheat me into the stupid 
 notion, I really imagine, that I was going to have a treat, in 
 the same way that nurse always gives Julius his powders, with 
 lots of sugar on the top ! Oh ! my sweetest Eleanor, words 
 cannot express the wretchedness of your poor friend during 
 that long ride ! And yet Oates never did drive so quickly ; he 
 seemed to be doing it on purpose — whipping the poor horse 
 through Hyde-Park as furiously as if we were trying to catch 
 a mail-train, instead of going at that delicious crawling pace 
 which we have always been accustomed to by the side of the 
 Serpentine. Opposite Lord Holland's Park the horse fell. 
 Oh, how my heart beat to be sure ! I thought he was killed 
 at least, and that we should be obliged to return home ; but no 
 such thing. He picked himself up as quietly as you would a 
 pin, and the carriage went on even faster than before. 
 
 But after all, Eleanor, what pained me most was mamma's 
 and Martha's cold-hearted conversation whilst I was in a corner 
 suffering so much ! They chatted as cheerfully upon worldly 
 nonsense as if we were going to a pantomime. I shall never 
 forget their cutting cruelty at such a moment as that ; and, to 
 make matters worse, what with crying and the rain, I felt as 
 wet through as if I had been travelling along the submarine 
 telegraph, besides my tears spoiling my pretty puce-coloured 
 bonnet strings which were new that day. 
 
 At last we stopped before a large, cold-looking house, with 
 walls pulled tight round it, like the curtains of the four-poster 
 when Pa's ill in bed. It was all windows, with bars here and 
 there, and the plaster looked damp, and, altogether, it was 
 much more like a convent than a College ; for I must tell you 
 our school isn't called a " school" (for it seems there are no 
 schools for young ladies now-a-days), nor a " seminary, " nor 
 an "academy," but it's a " College." I thought I should 
 
6 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK S. 
 
 have fainted away, only I bad the cakes and oranges in my 
 arms, and was afraid of dropping them down the area, when 
 Mrs. Rod well took me upon her " maternal " knee, and began 
 stroking me down and calling me her " dear young friend," 
 with whom she said "she should soon be on excellent terms" 
 (only I am sure we never shall, excepting the "excellent terms" 
 Pa pays her), and she went on playing with me, Nelly, just 
 as I have seen the great big boa-constrictor, at the Zoological 
 Gardens, cuddle and play with the poor little rabbit, before he 
 devours it. 
 
 And now, dearest, mind you never mention what I am going 
 to tell you ; but all the sentiment and fine talking and writing 
 about a mother's love is nonsense ! utter nonsense! all a de- 
 lightful sham ! — for all the world, Nelly, like those delicious 
 sweet meringues at the pastrycook's, which look like a feast, 
 and only melt into a mouthful ! I am sure of it, Nelly dear, or 
 else how could they bear to make us so miserable ? looking 
 quite happy whilst our poor hearts are breaking ? sending us 
 from our natural homes, where we are so comfortable, to such 
 miserable places as this " Princess' College I " and especially, 
 too, when governesses now-a-days are so plentiful, and far 
 cheaper, I am told, than maids of all work ! Why, it was only 
 last Friday morning I showed Ma the most beautiful advertise- 
 ment there was in the Morning Post, all about a governess 
 offering to "teach English, French, German, Italian, Latin, 
 the use of globes, dancing, and crochet-work too, and drawing, 
 painting, music, singing, together with the art of making wax- 
 flowers actualty, and all for 211. a year!" But Ma only 
 patted me, and said she " should be ashamed to encourage 
 such a terrible state of things," or some such stupid stuff that 
 put me in a passion to listen to. I am sure I shall never believe 
 Ma loves me again, after throwing me from her dear fat 
 arms into the long thin claws of that awful Mrs. Rodwell ! 
 They opened and shut, and closed round me, Nell, exactly 
 like a lobster's ! 
 
THE FIKST NIGHT AT SCHOOL. 7 
 
 Before I could escape, Ma and Martha were gone, and I was 
 left alone — all alone — in this large dungeon of a place, with 
 every door fast. Well, Nelly, you have "been to school — at 
 least I suppose you have — so you can imagine how I was 
 allowed to remain in the schoolmistress' — no, our schoolmistress 
 is called a "Lady Principal" — in the Lady Principal's bou- 
 doir to compose myself ; how I was treated to weak tea and 
 thin bread and butter with Mrs. R., and asked all the time all 
 manner of questions that made my cheeks burn with rage, 
 about home, and about mamma and papa, until eight o'clock 
 came, and with it the permission to retire, as " bed would do 
 my head good." I was too glad to get released, if it was 
 merely to indulge my grief, and cry myself to sleep underneath 
 the bedclothes ! 
 
 But, law ! if it was so uncomfortable in the boudoir (and 
 such a boudoir, Nell ! — a dark closet with a handfull of cinders 
 for fire, and full of gimcracks, little pincushions, lavender 
 baskets, painted card-racks, and fire-screens, until it seemed 
 furnished from a fancy fair) — but if that was uncomfortable, I 
 say, it was positively wretched in the bedroom, with its six iron 
 cramp-beds, three washing-basins, and one looking-glass ! Yes, 
 Nelly, only one looking-glass amongst six young ladies ! I 
 never heard of such a thing. And then the place was so, so 
 very cold, that I am sure I shall have a red nose and chilblains 
 for the remainder of my life ; but I hope, my dear, fond Nelly, 
 you will lone me all the same! 
 
 Well, I cried myself to sleep, and it was a great comfort, I 
 can assure you; and it seemed still in the middle of the night, 
 when a loud ringing in my ears frightened me out of my sleep, 
 and made me nearly fall out of bed. And, after that came a 
 sharp, barking voice, calling out, "Now, young ladies! are 
 you going to breakfast in bed?" and causing a general 
 stretching, scuifiing, and jumping up. 
 
 The cold glimmering dawn lighted only portions of the room, 
 but I could see five other girls creeping about, half asleep, 
 
8 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 quarrelling for basins, engaging turns at the one looking-glass, 
 joking, grumbling, yawning, and laughing ; whilst I, poor I, 
 sat hope-forlorn, shivering, half with cold and half with fear, 
 on the edge of the bed. There a tall young lady, in a flannel 
 dressing-gown, discovered me, and exclaimed, " Why, here's 
 the New Girl! I say, my young lady, you had better make 
 haste ; the second bell will soon ring, and Miss Snapp will give 
 you something to cry for if you're not ready." 
 
 Then they all came and stared at me (the rude things) ; and 
 as I could not help crying, one of them called out, " Oh ! Oh ! 
 how affecting ! Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! OH ! " ending at last in aloud 
 bellow, in which I joined in painful earnest ; and then they left 
 me, and went on whispering, washing, combing, and lacing 
 each other, until "Ding, ding, ding," went the second bell; 
 and at the first sound they all scampered away, some with 
 their dresses still unfastened, calling after others to come and 
 hook them for them. 
 
 I never should have got finished myself, unless a mild, quiet- 
 looking woman had ventured to my assistance, and led me down 
 stairs into the school-room, where I nearly dropped upon feel- 
 ing the stare of some fifty girls fall upon me all in a lump, just 
 like the water from a shower-bath after you have pulled the 
 string. Oh, darling Nelly ! what would I have given for one 
 familiar face that I knew, or to have had your loving self by 
 my side, so that I might have thrown my arms around your 
 dear neck, and have a good cry ; for I am sure that a good cry 
 does one, frequently, much more good than a good laugh ! 
 
 The buzzing, which had suddenly ceased on my appearance, 
 began again with double vehemence, making nearly as much 
 noise as the water, when it's running into the cistern at home. 
 Amidst the hurried whispers, I could detect, "What a milk- 
 sop ! " " Mammy's darling ! " " She'll soon be broken in ! " 
 &c; when the same dog-like voice was heard to bark again, 
 calling out above the uproar, "To your seats, young ladies! 
 Silence ! Five forfeits for the first who speaks ! " 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL. 9 
 
 In the lull which followed, I was seated by the side of my 
 quiet conductress, and permitted to write this letter to my dear 
 darling Eleanor, just to fill up my time before breakfast, after 
 which I am to be examined and classed according to what I 
 know. 
 
 Oh, Nelly, I do so dread this day, and am so extremely 
 wretched, thinking all the time what they are doing at home, 
 and how Martha is rejoicing that she has got her sister away 
 from home. But I must leave off, dearest ; and I will promise 
 you several more letters (that is, of course, if I survive this 
 day), in which I will tell you of everything that occurs in this 
 filthy school — I mean College. That will be the only ray of 
 pleasure, Nelly, which will shoot in this dark dungeon through 
 the captive heart of your devoted, but wretchedly unhappy 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. — Excuse haste and my dreadful scrawl. 
 
 P.S. — You will see I have forwarded this to the pastrycook's 
 in Tottenham-court-road. Do not eat too many pink tarts, 
 dear, when you call for it. 
 
 P.S. — We hear a great deal, Nelly, about the trials and 
 troubles of the world, and of all we have to go through, and 
 about school being the happiest time of our lives ; but they 
 seem to do all they can to make it miserable, and I don't 
 believe any hardship on this world is worse than going to 
 school, and having to face fifty girls, all making fun of the 
 New Pupil. 
 
10 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 THE SECOND LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated February 11th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY FARED (OR SCARCELY FARED AT ALL) 
 THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL, AND THE DREADFUL DISASTER 
 THAT BEFEL HER. 
 
 OH ! my dear Kelly, I'm in such a mess, and cant think 
 how I am to get out of it. I would run away, only I don't 
 know where to run to : and, besides, all the doors are fast ; 
 and more than that, I feel Ma would only bring me back again 
 
 if I were to get away. Only think of that mean Mrs. 
 
 (you know who I mean) opening all the letters ; and I never 
 knew this until my letter was in her bag. Miss Sharpe (who 
 has promised to give this to some one who will drop it in the 
 post on the sly for me) says every word we write home, and 
 every word we receive from home, is pried into, and very often 
 kept back if it does not exactly please the Lady Principal ! A 
 pretty lady ! I wonder she isn't ashamed of herself ! A nice 
 example to set us young girls — actually teaching us to go a 
 peeping into other person's secrets ! Meggy (that's Miss 
 Sharpe's name) says she intends speaking to her papa about it. 
 He is a Scotch lawyer ; and she has often heard him say that 
 there's a fine of 100?. for any one who breaks a seal upon trust 
 papers ! What fun it would be if we could make the Lady 
 Principal pay 100?. ! I'm sure it would only serve her right. 
 The beauty of it is, Nelly, she says she only looks at the 
 signatures of the letters that come here, to see if they are from 
 proper persons. This is very likely ! How, then, does she 
 know all that is going on in the girVs homes, if she never reads 
 their letters ? I've no patience with her ! I'm sure I shall 
 never be able to look the mean creature in the face again. 
 
THE DAY'S WORK BEGINS. 11 
 
 Now, Nelly, I must tell you all about the young ladies ; for 
 I may not have another opportunity, dearest, of smuggling out 
 a letter. 
 
 Well, then, when we went to breakfast, Mrs. Rodwell was 
 seated on a sort of raised throne at the end of the table, and all 
 the girl's walked up to her to curtsey, and " Souhaiter le bon 
 jour, Madame, 1 ' and show her — this is a positive fact, dearest 
 — their teeth and nails ! Meggy told me this was to teach us 
 to keep them sharp and in good fighting condition, as woman s 
 natural weapons; but she was only laughing at me, for I learnt 
 afterwards it was to see that they were properly cleaned every 
 morning. But I think the practice might well be dispensed 
 with, as not being over and above complimentary to young ladies ! 
 
 When my turn came, I was preparing to show my teeth in 
 real earnest — for I felt both indignant and ashamed of such 
 treatment — when she took me kindly by the hand, and instantly, 
 at that touch of kindness, my mouth shut of its own accord. 
 She asked me how I had slept, and introduced me to Miss 
 Plodder, who, she said, would cheer my spirits and make me 
 feel more at home. She is such a fat, round, little sleepy, and 
 looks as stupid, too, as she is fat! If my spirits have to wait 
 for Miss Plodder to cheer them, I'm afraid they'll have to wait 
 loner enough. 
 
 Well, my own darling Nell knows I am not dainty, and that 
 I should think it wicked to be fanciful over good food ; but I 
 never did see such thick slices of bread, smeared over with 
 what they called butter. I have not been so petted at home as 
 to quarrel at any time with my bread and butter ; but, on my 
 word, I should as soon have thought of munching a deal board, 
 as taking up one of the long slices — planks, rather — that were 
 piled up, as in a timber yard, before me ; and yet, to see the 
 poor hungry girls ! If it had been wedding-cake, they could 
 not have devoured it more greedily ! 
 
 I thought of the dear delicious hot rolls, soaked through and 
 through with the best Fresh (at elevenpence a pound) that I had 
 
12 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 been in the habit of having every morning for breakfast, and 
 sighed that I was not at home. 
 
 Meggy asked me which I liked best, " hay or beans ? '' Be- 
 fore I could answer that I had never tasted either, the Lady 
 Principal inquired ** if I took cocoa or coffee V A basin of the 
 latter was brought to me, but unless I had been told it was 
 coffee, I'm sure I should never have guessed it. It looked more 
 like water taken from the Regent's-canal. Meggy whispered 
 into my ear, " Hay's best ; " and seeing me puzzled, she ex- 
 plained, shortly afterwards, that in their school dictionary hay 
 meant cocoa, and that beans was the English for coffee, from a 
 popular belief, which she said, " was extremely well grounded " 
 (in their coffee cups), that those agricultural commodities 
 formed the principal ingredients of their matutinal beverages. 
 
 Meggy Sharpe is such a nice girl, so clever and so full of 
 fun, and such large bright black eyes, and a face laughing all 
 over with mischief ; it puts one in good humour merely to look 
 at it. I feel I shall love her very much, but not so much as 
 you, dearest Nelly. 
 
 After breakfast she told Miss Plodder that she would "take 
 care of me, and introduce me to the Elders." Then bidding 
 me not to be afraid, she led me by the hand to a group of tall 
 young ladies, and in a set speech, delivered in a mock tone, 
 such as I've heard my brothers imitate Mr. Charles Kean in, 
 " begged to present a humble candidate to their friendship and 
 favour." The tallest, a Miss Noble, who seemed the head 
 girl, and as stiff as a backboard, made me welcome, and then 
 began questioning me in the following manner : — " Did I live 
 in London ? — at the West-end, of course ? — perhaps in Bel- 
 grave-square ? No ! then near Hyde Park ? No ! then in 
 one of the Squares ? Yes ! Well, some of the Squares were 
 still respectable. In which of the Squares did I live, pray ? " 
 
 I mumbled out, as well as I could, (( Torrington-square." 
 
 " Oh ! hem ! where was Torrington-square ? " continued my 
 tormentor. " Near the City, was it not? No! — what, near 
 
A NEW STYLE OF CATECHISM. 13 
 
 Russell-square and Gower-street ? Gower-street ! Well, really, 
 she knew nothing of those parts of the town." 
 
 I was next asked, " Whether my mamma went to Court. " 
 " No," I answered, in my ignorance ; " but Papa does some- 
 times, and takes his blue hag with him when he has law 
 business." Thi3 gave rise to shouts of laughter, and long 
 exclamations of " Dear, dear ! " whilst looks of pity were 
 showered down upon me. 
 
 " I mean," continued Miss Noble, "her Majesty's receptions. 
 My mamma goes to Court ; and I am to be presented myself 
 by the Grand Duchess of Mechlenburgh-Sedlitz immediately on 
 my leaving College ; " and she tossed her head up to the 
 ceiling, until I thought it would never come down again. 
 
 "How did you come last night?" resumed Miss Noble. 
 " In the omnibus," cried out wicked Meggy, who immediately 
 ran away. " No ; I know how she came," said another beauty, 
 i ' for I was in the drawing-room at the time, and looked out of 
 the window ; she came in a clarence with one horse." And 
 they all tittered again, and I felt my cheeks growing red, 
 though why I should be ashamed of mamma's pretty clarence I 
 don't know, even though it has but one horse. 
 
 I was next asked, " Whether my paternal (meaning papa, 
 I suppose) lived at home?'' "Of course," I answered; 
 " where should he live ?" " Why some people have an 
 establishment in the city, and a family in a square. The shop 
 (and they tittered again) must not be neglected." " Do not be 
 rude, Miss Ogle," interrupted Miss Noble, affecting to be very 
 serious ; " personalities are extremely rude ; and, besides, Miss 
 Clover's father may not live in a shop. Tell us, dear, what 
 profession are you in?" "I — I'm in no profession," I said, 
 trembling lest I should be laughed at again. "Dear ! what 
 beautiful simplicity ! " said the Court lady, lifting her hands 
 up ; "not you — your father, child." " Oh ! papa is a stock- 
 broker." " A what ? A stockbroker ! Pray what's that ?" 
 " I know," said the young lady who had told about the 
 
14 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 clarence with one horse ; " it's a trade ; for I hear papa 
 talk of desiring his stockbroker to buy and sell ; and I am 
 certain, now I think of it, that they deal in bears and ducks.' 7 
 "No such thing/' exclaimed a little girl with a turn-up nose, 
 u they sell old stocks, such as bankrupts' stocks, or retiring 
 haberdashers' stocks ; they're a sort of old-clothesmen/ ' " At 
 any rate, they are not professional, and therefore must be in 
 trade," decided proud Miss Noble ; and they all turned away 
 from me, with sneers and contempt. " It's no such thing," I 
 burst out ; " my papa is a gentleman — a real gentleman — and 
 he's quite as good, if not better, than any of your papas, though 
 you are so proud : and I shan't answer any more of your rude 
 questions." "That's right," laughed Meggy; "that's the 
 way to disappoint them. Don't tell 'em anything." 
 
 You should have heard, too, Nelly, their curiosity about my 
 brothers, making me describe them over and over again — their 
 eyes, whiskers, noses, and calling them by their names, Oscar, 
 Alfred, Augustus, Walter, as if they had known them for 
 years. The impudent girl, with the turn-up nose, actually said 
 she felt she could madly love Oscar ; and I couldn't help 
 replying, " You need not trouble yourself, Miss ; he'll never 
 ask you." Silly thing ! I'm sure Oscar wouldn't as much as 
 look at her — not even in church. 
 
 But the greatest shame has yet to come. You can never 
 believe what I am goiug to tell you, Nelly, although you know 
 I scorn fibbing ! 
 
 Class had just broken up, when a maid came in carrying a 
 large tray ; and only imagine my confusion when I saw laid 
 out on it all my cakes and goodies ! Miss Blight (the quiet 
 teacher who had brought me into the schoolroom) called me, 
 and I was going to ask for permission to put them into my 
 play-trunk, when — think of my surprise, Nelly ! — if she did 
 not actually seize my plum-cake, and begin cutting it up into 
 thin slices ! At first I was so shocked that I could not speak ; 
 and I wa,s about to stop her, when she cut some large slices, 
 
EAT MY CAKE AND ILL EAT YOURS. 15 
 
 and desired me "to hand them to the governesses, and then 
 take the dish round to each young lady." I am afraid I 
 looked vexed, and, in truth, I was nearly choking with passion ; 
 and I am sure you would have done the same, Nelly, for you 
 would have seen no joke in treating girls to your goodies, after 
 they had been making fun of you, and turning your papa and 
 mamma into ridicule. But this was not all ; for one rude 
 thing, upon ascertaining from me that mamma made it, said, 
 in a voice running over with vinegar, " I thought so, for she 
 has forgotten the plums." Then my oranges were cut into 
 quarters, and I had to hand them round also (the governesses 
 had halves /) until all was gone, and I had only two pieces 
 myself as a favour. Now, don't think me greedy, Nelly — you 
 know I don't care for feasting, only I do not like to be forced 
 to be generous, and to give to all alike, whether I like them or 
 not — offering as much to that proud Miss Noble (who is not too 
 proud, however, to eat another girl's cake) as to dear Meggy. 
 I dare say it is very pleasant when it's not your own — " share 
 and share alike" is all very fine ; but I should like to know 
 when their goodies are coming ? As I am the last girl enter- 
 ing this term, I suppose it won't be before next half-year ? 
 And I mean to say, Nelly, it is most heart-rending — putting 
 insult on the top of cruelty — to force you to help the 
 governesses and to double shares, too, whilst I'm sure my slice 
 broke all to pieces, it was so miserably thin. 
 
 Oh, dear, there's Mrs. Rodwell. If she catches me writing, 
 I shall be found out ; so my own darling Nelly, I must say 
 good bye. Mind you write soon, and tell me all about dear S. 
 Has he asked after me ? and often ? Is he pale ? Tell him 
 not to forget your devoted, true-hearted 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P. S. — Oh ! Nelly, I have had such a fright ; my heart is 
 jumping up and down like a canary in a cage when the cat's 
 underneath it. Only think of the Lady Principal's coming up 
 
16 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 to my desk. I made sure it was to ask me for this letter, and 
 I determined in my mind to swallow it sooner than let her read 
 it. But, thank goodness ! it was only to say she had not 
 opened my last letter to you, as it was sealed ; but, for the 
 future, she would close them herself, after looking over their 
 contents, Much obliged ! Catch me giving her any other 
 than my own compositions. So darling we are safe ; but 
 isn't it lucky ? 
 
 P.S. — I'm sure you'll never be able to read this scrawl. 
 Why didn't you answer my last ? 
 
 THE THIED LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 (No date, and post-mark illegible.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW KITTY WAS MARRIED, AND THE CONSEQUENCES 
 OF THAT IMPRUDENT STEP. 
 
 DEAR mamma came yesterday, looking so happy and beauti- 
 ful. I really believe she loves me, Nelly, for she smothered 
 me in kisses, until I thought I should never get my breath 
 again. I wanted to cry, and give her a good cuddle, and tell 
 her how much I loved her, and how I hated the college, and 
 everything in it ; but there sat Mrs. Eodwell the whole time, 
 in a new cap and black gloves, just as if mamma had come to 
 see her, and not me. And only to hear her high-flown speeches 
 about "my backwardness" and her "infallible system for 
 the development of every neglected faculty," and I don't know 
 what else ! It gives me the fidgets merely to think of it. 
 
 Martha (kiss my dear sister for me) brought me your sweet 
 letter, my darling Eleanor, and I have worn it in my bosom ever 
 since, and I am determined, Nelly, to keep it there as long as I 
 live ; but, unfortunately, from reading it so often, or from some 
 cause or other, it has broken at all the edges, and I have been 
 
SCHOOL WHEN YOU GET USED TO IT. 17 
 
 obliged to stitch the several pieces together, so much so that I 
 am sadly afraid it will scarcely last another week. 
 
 I knew your kind loving heart would feel for the wretched- 
 ness of your own suffering Kitty ; hut you will rejoice to hear, 
 darling, that, now I know some of the girls, I am a little more 
 cheerful, and at times almost catch myself laughing. School 
 s not such a wretched place when you get used to it. But I'll 
 tell you all about it. 
 
 What do you think, Nell ? They have such a strange 
 fashion here. They do not ask you to be friends, but they 
 marry ! Two young girls who are fond of each other become 
 husband and wife. I could not tell what Meggy Sharpe 
 meant when she "popped the question, " and asked me to be 
 "her little wifey." Then she laughed at my astonishment ; 
 but that's nothing new for Meg, for she's always laughing ; 
 and, when I asked her what she meant, she called me " her 
 dear Sillyninny ;" so I determined to find out the secret my- 
 self. Well, my pretty Nell will never guess the meaning of all 
 this, and so I suppose I must tell her. 
 
 The first thing after we had exchanged presents (I gave 
 Maggy my gold locket and she gave me a silver thimble — it 
 was terribly bent, though) she asked me for my purse, saying, 
 that " husbands always kept the money, but I could have some 
 when I wanted it. This was always the case in matrimony, 
 all the world over." Then, of course, I must tell her all my 
 secrets, as there was no real happiness in marriage unless there 
 was perfect confidence between husband and wife, and she 
 would afterwards tell me lots of things. So I told her of your 
 being my bosom friend, Nelly ; but she said "that was nothing," 
 and, I don't know how, but from question to question she got 
 all out of me concerning dear S. (I mean Sydney) ; and — and 
 — can you believe it ? Meggy has not only got a sweetheart, 
 but is actually engaged to her cousin, a handsome young mid- 
 shipman, at present braving the dangers of the wild ocean. 
 She has got a lock of his hair (it's black) tied up with blue 
 
18 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 ribbon in a true sailor's knot ; and they are to be married as 
 soon as lie is an admiral and rich enough. Isn't she a lucky 
 girl, Nelly ? 
 
 But I didn't like Meggy's quizzing me merely because I 
 blushed when I mentioned the dear name of Sydney. I thought 
 it was very unfeeling* to say the least of it ; though she did 
 say I should soon lose that stupid habit before I had been at 
 school a month. She used to blush herself once, she told me, 
 but that was previous to her receiving so many offers ! And, 
 oh ! Nelly, she showed me such a beautiful love-letter (I trem- 
 bled like the deck of a steamer as she read it to me). It was 
 from a sweetheart who almost died for her, only he was forced 
 to marry some one else for money. He was a poet, in a 
 Government office, and his signature was written with his own 
 blood — only I must say it looked uncommonly like red ink. But 
 Meggy knows he is miserable for life ; for the last time she 
 met him he was dressed from his hat to his boots in black, 
 with the exception of his trousers, which were of a light spinach 
 colour. Poor fellow ! he's greatly to be pitied ; and it's a 
 wonder to me how Meg can be so unconcerned about him. 
 
 I can't think how it could interest Meggy — but she was so 
 curious about Mamma and Papa, and my brothers, making me 
 tell her all I could remember about home and the servants, and 
 what we had for dinner, and whom we visited, and who visited 
 us. Then I showed her my desk and work-box ; and she took 
 them under her care, with my hair oils and scent-bottles (full 
 of scent), and pretty neck-ribbons, and gloves, and mittens, 
 and said she would look after them, for fear I should lose them ; 
 declaring that, as she was my husband, she must protect me, 
 and fight all my battles ; whilst on the other side, I am to help 
 her as much as I can by waiting on her, mending her linen, 
 spreading out her curl-papers, and keeping her drawers tidy. 
 I do not like to refuse, but I think I could have kept my own 
 stores just as well as she can. We are to share everything. 
 As her wife, she said, everything that was mine was hers ; and 
 
HOW YOUNG GIRLS MARRY AT SCHOOL. 19 
 
 she is carrying out this law, I must say, with the strictest im- 
 partiality, for I have scarcely a thing left. On the other hand, 
 she assures me that all she has is mine, though I do not see 
 how I am to benefit much by this acquisition of property ; for 
 I have looked into her drawers, and found nothing worth taking, 
 except an old silk stocking. If this is a foretaste of matrimony, 
 Nelly, I hope I shall always remain single ; but — but, for 
 goodness' sake, do not tell dear Sydney so. It would only 
 make him unhappy. 
 
 There is one consolation, my gloves (the best Jouvins) cannot 
 be of much assistance to my unscrupulous lord and master, 
 Miss Margaret Sharpe ; for, whilst my hand is, as you know 
 6|, his must be at least 7 \. 
 
 Another peculiarity of this "College life" is calling each 
 other by your surname. Your loving Kitty is never called 
 Kitty, but always Clover ; and Meggy is always saluted Sharpe — 
 without the Miss. You cannot think how boyish and rude it 
 sounds ! 
 
 Now, Nelly, if my husband will excuse my running away 
 from her, I intend to give you what I call a cat's-eye view of 
 the principal girls. 
 
 Noble (the dignified one) is the queen of the school, and 
 head monitress. They all look up to her with awe, for she 
 knows one of the maids of honour, and has an aunt who goes 
 to Almack's. Her guardian (Meggy tells me that it is her 
 father ; but he's called her guardian, which is more than I can 
 understand), Lord Lovime, drives to the College in a beautiful 
 mail phaeton, with a dear little tiger, so tiny, you might put 
 him in your muff, Nelly. She is considered very elegant, and 
 walks about the playground with her gloves and parasol. She 
 calls eating vulgar, but I'm sure she eats as much as any one. 
 She says it takes four generations to make a lady, is exceed- 
 ingly bitter against all trades and shops, and declares that half 
 the girls at college haven t a drop of blood in their veins ; and 
 yet, to look at Miss Smiffel, the butcher's daughter, Nell, you 
 
 c2 
 
20 LETTERS LEFT AT THE 
 
 would imagine she was full of nothing else — she is as red in 
 the face as the lamp over a surgeon's door. 
 
 I don't know, but I don't like Miss Noble, with all her gran- 
 deur, and her gold fork and spoon with the magnificent crest 
 upon them. She is disdainful, and without pity to any one who 
 doesn't keep a carriage, and as servile to those who do — but 
 then it must have two horses. Her features are certainly hand- 
 some, but as cold as marble. To look at her, you would 
 imagine it was the head of some beautiful bust ; and it's a 
 great pity she ever speaks, for it spoils the illusion. I almost 
 pity her, though, Nelly, for she seems so lonely on the pedestal 
 upon which she has taken her stand, and from which she never 
 descends. Her dignity draws around her a circle (an aristo- 
 cratic circle, I suppose she would call it), into which no one 
 ever thinks of stepping. All I know is, I would not exchange 
 my own dear fond Papa and Mamma for the whole bunch of her 
 fine relations, whose proud titles are all she cares for. She 
 calls home, and kissing, and love, and affection, all "vulgar 
 weaknesses," very well for the lower classes ; and it is lucky 
 she thinks so, for I doubt if she has ever felt their sweet influ- 
 ence, or knows what it is to love devotedly as I do my sweet 
 Nelly, or S. 
 
 Noble's wife (you see I have already fallen into the College 
 habit of calling girls by their surnames) is Rosa Peacock. 
 Rosa is the beauty, the belle, of the school ; and, as far as 
 beauty goes, she certainly deserves the title. She is the 
 daughter of Sir Hercules Peacock, who was a captain in the 
 body of Gentlemen-at-Arms (what kind of gentlemen are they, 
 Nell ?) in the time of George IV., and quite an Adonis in his 
 day, and also (so Meggy says) a cheesemonger. Peacock is 
 certainly a lovely creature, tall and majestic, such as we have 
 only seen in the crush-room, Nelly, when we have been coming 
 out of the opera. Her hair is light, and falls in close curls, 
 which droop into the shape of wings on each side of her face, 
 as if it were too pretty for this world, and they wanted to carry 
 
A CAT S-EYE VIEW OF THE GIRLS. 21 
 
 it up to heaven. Then she has large die-away eyes, of the 
 colour (excuse me, pet) of what we used, when little girls, to 
 call sky-hlue ; but then they are a very rich sky-blue, like 
 those pretty muslins which wont be washed. But pretty as 
 Peacock is — and I can tell you the school is rather proud of 
 her — it is a thousand pities she is so conscious of her own 
 beauty. She seems to be always saying, " Pray admire me." 
 It is lucky she doesn't sleep in our bedroom, with only the one 
 looking-glass, or else none of us would ever be able to get a 
 peep at it. She is as full of her own charms as Noble is of 
 her dignity. Meggy calls them Pomp and Vanity, and says 
 it is all outside show, like the shops in the Lowther Arcade. 
 They ought to be in the second class, or perhaps the third, 
 only the Lady Principal favours them. She puffs them off, 
 and hands them about as "showgirls;" and they would be 
 sure to be disliked for that circumstance alone, if for no other. 
 But the truth is they are so disagreeable, their pride is so 
 offensive, that I doubt if they can point to a single friend in 
 the whole school. The consequence is, they are driven to each 
 other's society, and you will see them of a half holiday walking 
 round our little bit of a playground arm-in-arm, turning their 
 noses up at every one, and studying " Debrett's Peerage" 
 together. 
 
 But, Nelly, I must leave you. My husband is calling me 
 to mend her stockings, and I daren't disobey. What a little 
 stupid I was ever to get married ! In frantic haste, your loving, 
 miserable 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. Excuse this wretched scrawl. 
 P.S. You tell me nothing about dear S. 
 P.S. The housemaid has consented to drop this in the post 
 for sixpence. 
 
22 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 THE FOURTH LETTER LEFT. 
 
 {Dated Mavch 3rd.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME OF HER 
 SCHOOLFELLOWS. 
 
 I DO begin, Nelly, to like this wretched place a little better. 
 All the girls are not Nobles and Peacocks ; and it's lucky 
 they am t, for I never met with such a couple of disagreeable 
 things. They set themselves up for great judges and wits, 
 ridiculing everything they do not like, and trying to make the 
 rest feel humbled and worthless, because our Mas have never 
 been to court, or our Pas do not drive a pair of horses ! 
 
 Meggy Sharpe and I both think Annie Flower much prettier 
 than Rosa Peacock, although she is not a fine lady, and her 
 father is only a farmer. They call her " Dairymaid ;" but, for 
 all that, Miss Rosa Peacock is jealous of her beautiful com- 
 plexion, and is always imitating Annie's merry laugh. 
 
 That little impudent thing with the turn-up nose is a Miss 
 St. Ledger. Her Pa is a City Alderman, and a great patron of 
 Mrs. Rodwell. Meggy calls her " Piggy/ 'because she is always 
 stuffing — hiding in the closets and the box-room to eat by 
 herself, the things she smuggles into the College. Whenever 
 you meet her in the passages, she cannot speak — her cheeks 
 are crammed so full of goodies. They tell a story against her 
 about the drawing-room piano. It was terribly out of tune, 
 and upon examination was found to be full of orange-peel and 
 peach-stones. The supposition is that Miss St. Ledger had 
 taken the peaches and oranges up with her to be able to eat 
 them on the sly when she was practising, and, being suddenly 
 disturbed, had thrown them inside the lid of the grand piano, 
 
THE GOOD GIRL OF THE SCHOOL. 23 
 
 so as not to be detected. This greedy girl is extremely rich, 
 and she is always boasting that her Papa could buy up a whole 
 street of such poor creatures as Noble and Peacock, who, she 
 says, have nothing but debts for a fortune, and a title to pay 
 them off with. At the same time she flatters them, and tries 
 all she can to get friendly with them, but they only snub her 
 the more. But Nelly, she dresses so beautifully, always in 
 silks, and her pocket-handkerchiefs are as fine as muslin, and, 
 I'm speaking the truth, trimmed with real Valenciennes! It 
 makes you quite curious to finger them. Then she has boxes upon 
 boxes full of the most lovely ribbons and belts ; whilst Madam© 
 La Vautrien makes her bonnets, and charges three guineas 
 apiece for them ! But in spite of all her finery, she is the meanest 
 girl in the school — so stingy and greedy, always borrowing, and 
 never lending — never sharing, never helping any one. I do 
 not like her a bit — nasty, disagreeable thing ! if she did not 
 go and pry into my boxes ; and I heard her telling the girls 
 ¥. all was cheap and common — only one silk dress, and that a 
 turned one of mamma's.' ' The Lady Principal is very fond of 
 her (her money, more likely), and is always sending her into the 
 drawing-room to practise (though she can't play a bit), because 
 she is so fat and fine, and has hot-house grapes sent to her. 
 
 Miss Plodder is another favourite. She is the " Good. Girl." 
 Her nickname is " Preterpluperfect." Poor girl, her face 
 makes you sad to look at it. It seems full of tasks and 
 forfeits. Her fingers are always inky ; and her hand is so cold, 
 that touching it is as unpleasant as the tearing of silk. My 
 blood runs cold merely to think of it. She never plays or 
 laughs, but is always thumbing her lessons, though what she 
 does with her learning no one can tell, for she is never f* up" 
 in class, and is always sent M down 9 ' at examinations. 
 
 How different is dear Lucy Wilde I She seems to know 
 everything without looking at a book. It comes as naturally to 
 her as eating. Ah ! she is clever. The professors pay her 
 such compliments before all the school, and the governesses 
 
24 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 are afraid of her. The Lady Principal, however, cannot bear 
 Lucy, because she is idle, and up to fun. She tries to keep 
 her down ; but Lucy is like a cork in a pail, she is sure to 
 come to the top again. The more she is pushed under, the 
 more she rises. With all her mad-cap tricks, she is always at 
 the head of the class. How she learns no one can tell, for she 
 is never seen with a book. Meggy says it comes to her in 
 her sleep. Professor Drudge told us last week that if Lucy 
 could only be tamed into studying she could do anything, and 
 I believe it. She writes verses, too — little satirical poems on 
 the mistresses, and Peacock and Noble ; and sent off on 
 Tuesday the most beautiful Valentine I think I ever read. 
 
 But, Nelly, it is Amy Darling you would love best — a bright, 
 pleasant girl, all sunshine, except when she cries, and she cries 
 immediately any one is hurt. We all run to Amy directly 
 we are in trouble. She is like a young mother to us, and 
 treats us with such tenderness, that it is almost a pleasure to 
 be in trouble to be comforted by Amy. She consoles one so 
 beautifully, and I'm sure if our puddings were taken away we 
 should miss them far less than the absence of dearest Amy. 
 You should see how the little girls crowd round her in the 
 playhouse, and pull her about. She romps with them with the 
 greatest good-humour, and never tires in teaching the little things 
 some new game. She was in bed for three days once, and any 
 one would have imagined there was ajdeath in the house ; but 
 when she recovered, we made so much noise that the Lady Prin- 
 cipal came down from her boudoir to inquire what was the 
 matter. It's strange ! She is not clever, nor altogether pretty 
 nor even professional (her papa's a coachmaker), and yet, some- 
 how, notwithstanding these tremendous drawbacks, she is the 
 favourite of all the school. Even the masters and schoolmistresses 
 cannot help giving the preference to Amy. Professor Drudge 
 himself, who seems to love nothing in the world but his snuff- 
 box, pats her occasionally on the head, bestowing on her at the 
 same time a grim snuffy smile, that he accords to no one else. 
 
THE FAVOURITE OF THE SCHOOL. 25 
 
 She is such a dear, clear love ! so sweet — so full of joy and 
 sympathy — that I really believe, Nelly, she was intended for 
 an angel, and was only made a school-girl by mistake. Her 
 sweetness is best shown by the fact that Peacock and Noble 
 never give themselves airs to her, though her father is but a 
 coachmaker. She would shame them out of their vulgarity 
 without retorting a harsh word, and make them blush (if that 
 was possible) by merely reproaching them kindly. It is a won- 
 der for a school, where there are so many girls, that not one of 
 them is jealous of Amy. Such a thing would appear unnaturaL 
 It would be like being jealous of your mother, or of a nurse 
 who had tended you through a long illness. We are too grate- 
 ful to be jealous : for there is not a girl in the school, big or 
 little, but who has some cause to be grateful to her. The little 
 girls she protects, and saves them from being bullied ; and the 
 big ones she advises when they are in a mess, besides helping 
 them through their tasks. She is the protectress that all fly 
 to — the peacemaker that all abide by (even those in the 
 wrong) ; and the general confidante of us all, the poor miss- 
 tresses included. Meggy calls her our " Sister Confessor ;" 
 and really it is terrible to think of the heap of secrets that must 
 be piled up, as high as the boxes on a Margate steamer, upon 
 her honour. When you think, Nelly, it is as much as we can 
 do to keep one secret, I wonder how Amy can breathe with 
 such a load upon her breast ! Yet she carries it all as lightly 
 as a fairy does her wand. 
 
 I cannot for the life of me imagine, Nelly, why she has chosen 
 poor Mary Owen for her wife ! There never were two persons 
 so widely different, and yet firmer friends. Meggy says, " poor 
 Mary Owen is in pawn to Mrs. Rod well," which means that she 
 has been left as security for a debt, as hopeless as any National 
 one. 
 
 Years ago (so Meggy tells me) Mary's father — a captain in 
 the army — left her at school, with directions that she was to 
 learn everything, and no expense spared in her education. 
 
26 LETTEKS LEFT AT- THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 With the exception of one or two small remittances, nothing 
 has heen heard of her father since. Year after year Mary 
 grows paler and more sad, with not a friend in the world to 
 cling to, but dearest Amy, who treats her more like a sister 
 than anything else, being always by her side, as something 
 told her that if the poor girl hadn't a crutch of some sort to 
 lean upon, she would assuredly fall to the ground. The Lady 
 Principal has lost all hope of Mary being ever claimed, or 
 (worse still) of her bill being ever paid. This makes Mary's 
 position all the more melancholy, for she is pointed to as a kind 
 of living monument to the cardinal virtues of the schoolmistress 
 who keeps her. If there is a little sermon on charity or bene- 
 volence, Mary is always chosen as its text. Whenever there 
 is a lecture read about ingratitude, poor Mary is always brought 
 forward as the disgraceful illustration of it. It is the same 
 with dishonesty, taradiddles, fibbing, and the entire category 
 of school Vices — Mary serves as the example of them all. It 
 would seem as if the poor girl was kept as a " terrible warn- 
 ing " to the College ; and Fin sure in this capacity alone, that 
 her bill has been paid more than twenty times over. It is sad 
 to watch the poor girl while she's being thus publicly pointed 
 at before her schoolfellows. She never says a word, nor 
 attempts to defend herself. She sits quietly in her seat, her face 
 growing paler, and her head falling lower with each blow of 
 her accuser ; and if you saw her heavy, tearless eye, Nelly, 
 and her lips quite colourless, as I have seen them, you would 
 pity her with all your heart, and long to go up and kiss her, 
 and tell her not to mind it. Often and often have I felt 
 inclined to call out and beg of Mrs. Rodwell to stop such 
 cruelty ; but fear has pinched my lips, and I have caught 
 myself crying, and I defy any one to help it. But I don't mean 
 to say that Mrs. Rodwell ill-treats Mary, or is positively unkind, 
 or lifts her hand against her ; but she is always taunting her 
 with her misfortune in so sharp a manner, that I would sooner 
 by far be beat outright, or be sent away at once. It is one 
 
THE GIRL IN PAWN. 27 
 
 unceasing tyranny of little .petty trifles all day long (a tyranny 
 of pins and needles, Meggy calls it), which I call most cowardly 
 for a woman like Mrs. Rodwell (though she has lost her money) 
 to use against a poor girl who cannot defend herself ; just as 
 if Mary wouldn't pay if she could ! On such occasions Amy 
 is kinder to her than ever, and struggles, by dint of affection, 
 and by trying to lead her into play, to make her forget the 
 harshness she has experienced during school hours. I'm not 
 certain that she succeeds very well. Mary tries, in grateful 
 return for so much kindness, to smile and to play ; but it isn't 
 smiling nor playing, Nelly, it's working, and hard working at it. 
 Her dress is the funniest thing you ever saw. When I say 
 funny, I do not mean it makes you laugh — far from it — but 
 that it is extremely odd and peculiar. At first Mary used to 
 wear the cast-off things of two Indian girls, who are here and 
 never go home ; but since she has grown tall she is packed up 
 in Mrs. E's old trumpery finery, and flits about like a thin 
 shadow of what the Lady Principal was six months previously. 
 No one, however, is cruel enough to quiz Mary. Her sorrow 
 throws a sacred protection over her that is better than any 
 shield, and even Miss St. Ledger (with her pert turn-up nose) 
 forgets the sharpness of her tongue in her presence. Amy, 
 besides, wouldn't allow any one to slight her. They tell me, 
 Nelly, that when " breaking-up day " comes round, and all are 
 skipping about in the wild joy of being fetched home, poor 
 Mary sits silently apart, shunning everybody — avoiding the 
 windows where all the girls are heaped together, watching the 
 arrival of the carriages ; and that she almost runs away from 
 dear Amy's caresses, rejecting her loving endeavours to cheer 
 her, as if they were a source of pain to her. Dear Amy always 
 stops the last with her ; but, when it comes to her turn to go 
 away, then poor Mary flings herself round her devoted friend's 
 neck, and bursts into one long flood of tears, as if her heart 
 was breaking. May we never know such grief as that, Nelly ! 
 Only think, dearest, how cheerless must the holidays be to the 
 
28 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK S. 
 
 poor homeless girl ! The re-assembling of school, which 
 school-girls dread so much, must come back to her with all the 
 delight of holidays to us. 
 
 Once Amy asked for Mary to go home with her, but the 
 Lady Principal objected to it. It would take too much money 
 and trouble to " get her up." Amy said she should wear her 
 things ; but Mrs. Rod well still objected. She was afraid 
 (Meggy says) to M trust the security of her debt out of 
 sight!'' Poor Mary has never left the Princesses' College 
 now for four years, except at such times when she has been 
 out walking with the school ! 
 
 This is very sad and terrible, Nelly, and we ought to think 
 ourselves very fortunate that we have such good papas and 
 mammas, and that our positions in life are very different from 
 that of poor Mary Owen ! But I have written myself quite 
 miserable, and you too, I am afraid, Nelly, so no more at 
 present, dear, from 
 
 Your little stupid 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. Excuse haste. 
 
 P.S. Why don't you write ? 
 
 THE FIFTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated March 9th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME MORE OF HER 
 SCHOOLFELLOWS. 
 
 IN my last letter I forgot to tell you about the two Miss Suetts, 
 Emilia and Julia. They are fat, and round, and heavy, 
 like (Meggy says) a couple of yeast dumplings. Their parents 
 are in India, and they never go home. No one cares much 
 about that, however ; for they are great teazes, and the most 
 
THE SNEAK OF THE SCHOOL. 29 
 
 dreadful tell-tales. But they are never without preserves and 
 pickles of some kind, and have such delicious pomegranates 
 and guava jelly sent to them, in such large blue jars, that, 
 after all, I doubt if any two girls would be more missed from 
 the school than the two Suetts — disagreeable things as they 
 are. You should only taste their tamarinds, Nell ! 
 
 There is also Ada Steele, the poetess, who writes verses, 
 some of which have actually appeared in print (in the Family 
 Page, I think), and you cannot imagine how conceited she is 
 about it. I am told she knows every line of poetry that ever 
 was written. She is such a dreadful plague, that I never go 
 near her if I can avoid it. You cannot ask her what's the day 
 of the month, but she'll give you a hundred lines of poetry 
 right off from some poet or other. Meggy calls her " a tap of 
 poetry," which once turned on, will go on running till you stop 
 it. Byron is her especial favourite, and she always calls him 
 " dear." His works are not allowed in the College ; but Ada 
 Steele has got a copy of them, and she puts it under her pillow 
 every night. 
 
 But the girl I dislike most is Susan Carney. Fancy a tall, 
 thin creature, with hair the colour of blotting-paper, and with 
 eyes like an owl's, that cannot look at you, and you have her 
 standing before you. She is the "sneak' 1 of the school; 
 and moves about like a cat. When we are talking secrets, and 
 turn round, there she is — pretending to look for something, but 
 in reality listening. Or, if a girl has comfortably got one of 
 James's delicious novels inside her grammar, and looks up to 
 see that it is all right and snug, there is Carney's cold fishy 
 eye sure to be fixed sideways upon her. Meggy says her eye 
 is so sharp, she's confident that, like a needle's, it would cut 
 thread* We cannot have a bit of fun, but Miss Carney is sure to 
 spoil it. We cannot read or write a letter in class without her 
 knowing it. We cannot talk to the masters, or have a com- 
 fortable bit of gossip about the filthy dinners and the Lady 
 Principal, without our being requested, before the day is half 
 
30 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 over, " to step to Mrs. R's boudoir/' after which you will see 
 the girls coming back with red eyes and burning cheeks. 
 
 The oddest thing is, no one is sure that it is Carney who tells, 
 though every one is convinced that she does. She manages it 
 so cleverly that she is never found out. We tease her as much 
 as we dare, calling her " policeman/ ' " spy," " tell-tit," and 
 every thing we can think of ; but it takes no effect upon her. 
 She turns a little pale, talks morality in a whining tone, and 
 leaves it to Mrs. Rodwell to redress her wrongs. 
 
 Another curious thing is the way in which she wheedles a 
 secret out of you. Though on your guard, she flatters and 
 fawns, and coaxes and lectures till you have parted with your 
 secret long before you are aware of it. You would imagine 
 she was chloroform, so cleverly does she extract it, without the 
 smallest consciousness on your part. The fact is, she crawls 
 over you, Nelly ; and as for talking, it is my firm belief she 
 would talk a letter out of a letter-box. She is exceedingly 
 neat and clean, with not a single hair out of bounds ; and, 
 somehow, her dresses do not rustle, nor her shoes creak, as 
 other persons' do. She is down upon you, like a shower at the 
 horticultural fete, before you have time to run for it. What 
 with her crawling, and her sleek appearance, and her gliding 
 so noiselessly about the room, she looks like a big lizard, or 
 some glippery serpent, that was advancing towards you ; and I 
 always feel inclined to scream, or to put up my parasol, when 
 she comes near me, to frighten her away. 
 
 Nor is she much a favourite with the remainder of the school. 
 The little girls bribe her with oranges and cakes, and lend her 
 small sums of money, to prevent her telling. But the big girls 
 know it's no use, and waste nothing upon her : they know well 
 enough she will take the bribe one minute, and go and blab the 
 next. The governesses even are afraid of her, and begin talk- 
 ing of the weather whenever she approaches. 
 
 But what shocks me the most, Nelly, is that she is righteous. 
 She moans and groans, and turns up the whites (or the yellows, 
 
THE BAD GIRL OF THE SCHOOL. 31 
 
 rather) of her eyes, and is so pious at church, and is always 
 inveighing against "the shameful wickedness " of the school. 
 Then she reads hymns, and is embroidering a prie-dieu for her 
 godpapa, who is something in the Church, and exceedingly 
 rich ; and she writes such insufferably long sermons, twice the 
 length of anybody else's ; and after service she begs to see 
 Mrs. Rodwell, pour conjier son coeur as she calls it, but we all 
 know what that means, for, as sure as plum-pudding on Sun- 
 days, some one is sure to be punished that same afternoon ! I 
 only wish we could find her out in anything. I really believe 
 the entire school would rush up to the Lady Principal, and tell 
 of her. But Miss Carney is far too cautious to be caught 
 tripping ! They tell me she even sleeps with her eyes open. 
 
 Let us turn from this hateful creature (I can't help hating 
 her, Nelly) to some more agreeable subject. I will not tire 
 you with descriptions of Miss Smiffel, the butcher's daughter, 
 or Miss Embden, the bakers daughter, except to tell you that 
 they have a sad time of it, and are called rare ugly names, 
 because their papas happen to be butchers and bakers, just as 
 if they could help it. I need not tell you, either, about Lizzy 
 Spree, a little, merry, fidgetty, laughing thing, with black 
 eyes, who is the romp — the " bad girl " of the school. She is 
 always playing tricks, making apple-pie beds, or sewing up the 
 tops of our stockings, or hiding the dancing-master's shoes, or 
 tying the cat's tail to the parrot's leg, or filling Miss Blight's 
 bed with bread-crumbs and cockchafers, or breaking a window, 
 or tearing her dress every day. The consequence is, she is 
 always in punishment ; but she cares no more for it than a 
 duck cares for an umbrella. She spends all her pocket-money 
 on crackers and detonating balls and valentines, and is always 
 going to be expelled ; only Mrs. Rodwell relents, and gives 
 her " one chance more." The maid fell down-stairs with the 
 soup-tureen yesterday, from the fact of her strewing the 
 kitchen steps with marbles and orange-peel. It was too bad. 
 We had to go without soup in consequence. 
 
32 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 But, Nelly, you would quite love little Jessie Joy ; she is the 
 wee'st little thing you ever. You might hang her to your 
 chatelaine. You would declare that she was not more than ten, 
 and yet she was sixteen last birthday. She has a rosy round 
 face, and little flaxen curls, exactly like a pretty doll, if you 
 could only keep her still for a moment to look at her. She 
 plays about the room like the sun on a looking-glass, and her 
 whole body seems to quiver with light. I defy you to catch 
 her, unless, perhaps, it was in the dark. We call her " pet " 
 and " tiny." 
 
 I don't know how it is, Jessie cannot be taught ; and yet 
 she is far from being an idiot, for the little thing understands ; 
 nor is she stupid, for she is quick enough to outwit us all. 
 Still, they have never been able to teach her anything. Her 
 eyes (I don't know what colour they are) fly away like butter- 
 flies directly you attempt to catch them, and settle on all places 
 but on her book. We think she can read, but no one is sure 
 of it. If told to learn, she pouts her lips like cherries, until 
 you feel inclined to bite them ; and her little head swings to 
 and fro, Nelly, like the bells on a fuchsia, when set a dancing 
 by the wind. The Lady Principal cannot scold her. The 
 utmost she can do is to call her to her in an angry tone, when 
 she takes up her little head in her two hands as if it were a 
 bowl of milk, and kisses her gently on the forehead. This is 
 all her punishment ; and the little culprit runs back into her 
 place as quick as a rabbit. 
 
 But if she can't read, or spell, or learn, you should only 
 hear her sing, Nell ! It is like a wild bird. She warbles every 
 air she hears. Music seems to gush from her like water from 
 a fountain. Once she was caught playing, and they say it 
 sounded like the rejoicing of good spirits ; but she cried when 
 they wanted her to do it again, and has never touched the in- 
 strument since. She dances more like a fairy than a human 
 being. And yet when Monsieur Viaulon (the French dancing- 
 master) attempted to teach her the polka, she ran away and 
 
TREASON AGAINST ONES HUSBAND. 33 
 
 bid herself behind the great globe in the music-room. The 
 truth is, her dancing has nothing of the ball-room in it. She 
 flits about so restlessly, it makes your eyes wink to look at 
 her. Her feet never seem happy on the ground, and I always 
 have a curious fear when the window is opened that Jessie will 
 fly out of it. 
 
 The girls are rather frightened at her restless ways and her 
 strange beauty, which seems to belong more to the air than 
 to the earth. They declare that she is a fairy changeling ; and 
 that the tale which is told of her father being shot in a duel, 
 and of her mother dying when Jessie was born, is all a story. 
 Jessie rarely goes home. The only person who comes to see 
 her is an aged aunt, with a face all over lines, like a railway 
 map. She brings her plenty of toys and plenty of sweeties ; 
 but Jessie, apparently, does not care the least about her. The 
 only person her flighty disposition stops in its giddy career to 
 alight upon is Amy Darling. She listens to no one else with- 
 out impatience — she will play with no one else, except it is a 
 young kitten that belongs to the cook — she will obey no one 
 else. But then I believe if Amy spoke to the lightning, that 
 she would stop it. 
 
 I am so tired of scribbling, dear Nelly, that I can't write 
 any more to-day, though I could fill a whole band-box with 
 particulars about this place. So no more at present from your 
 dear affectionate 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. What do you think, Nelly ! I've such bad news to 
 tell you. That impudent Miss St. Ledger, with the turn-up 
 nose, tells me that Margaret Sharpe (my husband) is nothing 
 but deceit, and that she will turn me off as soon as she has got 
 every thing she can out of me. I don't believe anything half 
 so bad of my darling Meggy ; and I'm sure it's only a wicked 
 nvention of that spiteful "Piggy." 
 
 P.S. But that is nothing to the following. Oh ! Nelly, 
 
34 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 Nelly dear, I'm afraid there'll soon be a speedy end to our 
 correspondence ; Betsy, the housemaid, has just been telling 
 me that she cannot put any more letters into the post under a 
 shilling apiece. She says, if she was found out, it would be as 
 much as her place was worth. Depend upon it, dearest, I will 
 spend the last shilling I have in the world sooner than not 
 write to you ; but what am I to do when all my money's gone ? 
 To make matters worse, too, dear mamma gave me no money 
 when she called last week. I suppose she forgot it. I wonder, 
 if I was to ask the music-master (he gave me a voice-lozenge 
 yesterday), whether he would drop them in the post for me ? 
 
 THE SIXTH LETTEB LEFT. 
 
 ( Written on Copy-book paper, and apparently left by hand.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF GOVERNESSES IN 
 GENERAL, AND ONE IN PARTICULAR. 
 
 NELLY, dearest, I have formed a great determination. 
 Nothing shall ever induce me to become that poor, 
 absurd, ill-used creature, called a governess. I would starve 
 sooner, or make shirts (which is pretty nearly the same thing), 
 or emigrate and marry the first savage I met, or be a " touter " 
 at a bonnet shop, or even go into service at a cheap lodging- 
 house ; anything, Nelly, sooner than be turned into that 
 hopeless, spiritless, friendless being a governess seems destined 
 by nature, or society, to be. 
 
 A governess in a private family is bad enough, but then she 
 is not totally deprived of the comforts of home. She has a 
 room, or at least a bed, entirely to herself, and her meals are 
 generally the same as those of the family. Besides, a certain 
 degree of respect is always paid to her. The servants are 
 obliged to treat her with civility, at all events in the presence of 
 
SHE WON T BE A GOVERNESS. 35 
 
 their mistresses ; and the mistresses are compelled to show her 
 a little attention, if it is only done to set a good example to 
 their servants. Then, again, their " young charges " cannot 
 invariably be amusing themselves at her expense. They can- 
 not always be teasing her. When they are taken out for an 
 airing in the carriage, or when they are brought down after 
 dinner with their shiny faces and glossy ringlets, or whenever 
 there is company, or their parents and strangers are present, 
 the governess enjoys a brief respite from that system of petty 
 tyrannies she is the untiring victim of elsewhere. She has her 
 few pleasures, though perhaps they may come at long straggling 
 intervals ; she has her distractions, her excitements in moving 
 about in the world, and going to places of public amusements, 
 and occasionally she knows what it is to enjoy the sweet success 
 of rivalry — for have we not seen, Nelly, many a poor neglected 
 governess who was doing the work of a musician at the piano, 
 without his wages, receive in the course of the evening more 
 attention than the fine young ladies themselves who were the 
 worshipped idols of the establishment ? 
 
 But the governess in a girls' school has a very different life 
 of it, Nelly. She hasn't a moment to herself. She is the first 
 to rise, and the last to go to bed. She hasn't even the privacy 
 of a bed-room to herself, for she is obliged to sleep in the same 
 room as the girls, to look after them. The only privacy she 
 knows is when she creeps into bed and draws the curtains 
 round her. Our play-hours are no play-hours to her ; rather 
 on the contrary, for then her torments really begin, and only 
 end when the bell rings again for class. She is the target at 
 which every little chit fires her fun, and thinks she has a per- 
 fect right to do so. She is the only game at which the girls 
 never tire of playing, and to see how they enjoy it you would 
 imagine there was no amusement like it. It is true, Nelly, I 
 have not seen much misery yet, and hope I never shall ; but I 
 can hardly imagine anything in this world more miserable than 
 a school governess on a half-holiday. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 Why, look at poor Blight. I have only to look upon her to 
 feel for the sufferings of the whole class. Her nature seems to 
 be sun-dried. She never smiles, and there is such an air of 
 resignation about her, such a tone of despair that runs through 
 all her words and smallest movements, that it is perfectly clear 
 Hope never whispers into her ear any of those soft motherly 
 words which soothe the agony of one's heart and lull it quietly 
 off to sleep. 
 
 She may justly be called our " mistress of all work." She 
 does a little of everything ; she helps the smallest girls to 
 dress ; takes the junior pupils ; hears the reading ; sees to the 
 wardrobes ; gives out the linen ; teaches needlework ; and 
 superintends the Saturday night's cleaning ; in short, she is 
 expected, as they say of servants, !.' to make herself generally 
 useful," which means, in our instance, that she is worked to 
 death by everybody, and spared by nobody ; besides being 
 teased, deceived, bullied, and ridiculed by every one who has a 
 fancy that way ; and for leading a life like this, she only gets 
 161. a year and her board and lodging during the holidays ! 
 
 Snapp (another of our teachers) smiles at Blight's old- 
 fashioned learning. She says it is quite out of date, and only 
 fit for a charity school. Mademoiselle (the French teacher) 
 quizzes her dress, and makes fun of her melancholy, and talks 
 of her contemptuously, as "$;•«," which I am told is the same 
 as if you were speaking of a cook, or a poor relation, and 
 called her "it." Fraulein (the German mistress) mimics 
 her, and laughs over her patient endurance and old-maidish 
 manners. 
 
 It must be confessed that poor Blight's appearance affords 
 plenty of temptation for this cruel ridicule. She is certainly very 
 ugly, and no one ever loses an opportunity of telling her so. 
 The worst is, the example set by the schoolmistress is followed 
 with the greatest zest by the school-girls, who indulge in all 
 kinds of practical jokes at her expense. She is unfortunately 
 very short-sighted, and consequently they are always hiding 
 
A GOWN TURNED INTO A CALENDAR. 37 
 
 her spectacles, or else rubbing the glasses over with butter, or 
 ink. No one considers there is any harm in this, for the girls 
 have grown to look upon Blight as " fair game ; " and if any 
 one can put her into a passion, it is considered "rare fun," 
 and thought just as harmless as throwing bread-pills at one 
 another when the mistress's back is turned. When there is no 
 other amusement going on, the cry is always raised, " Let's go 
 and tease Blight," and you see the whole school rushing 
 forward as eagerly as if a gypsy suddenly appeared at the play- 
 ground gate to tell us our fortunes. But if any one is in 
 trouble, Blight is the first to screen her. If any girl is ill, 
 Blight will sit up with her all night, and will pet and nurse the 
 little sufferer until she almost fancies herself at home ; and 
 when the little invalid has grown well again, and has recovered 
 the use of her tongue and fingers, Blight never says a word 
 about the ungrateful return, but bears it all like a martyr, 
 which, in truth, she really is. Ugly as she is, I really think 
 there are times when I could throw my arms round her neck, 
 and kiss her for her goodness. 
 
 I cannot tell you all the nicknames which they have for her 
 face and person, nor would it altogether be agreeable for you, 
 Nelly, I think to hear them. Suffice it to say, the poor thing 
 is very old — thirty-nine, if she is a day ; and she has the fun- 
 niest little head of hair, every hair appearing to be pulled as 
 tight, and to be almost as wide apart, as the strings of a harp. 
 The top of her head is mounted with a round knot of hair no 
 bigger than the worsted ball you see on a Scotch cap. It's a 
 wonder to me she doesn't wear a wig or a cap of some sort, 
 though perhaps it would be too dangerous, as every one would 
 undoubtedly be trying to pull it off. The girls declare no one 
 can recollect her having a new gown. Every quarter a very 
 thin, snuff-brown silk, on a very stiff lining, is brought out as 
 Sunday best ; but it is only the old one turned and altered a 
 bit, for that little wicked thing, Jessie Joy, put a drop of ink 
 on one of the breadths on purpose to find it out ; and there it 
 
38 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 is still, journeying about, backwards and forwards, first in front 
 and then behind ; now on the top, just under her chin, and 
 next down at the bottom, sweeping the floor, precisely as the 
 faded silk is twisted or turned to hide the creases and the 
 ravages of old age. The girls calculate the period they have 
 been at school by this venerable gown ; and it's no unusual 
 thing to hear them, when disputing about any particular date, 
 settling it at once by referring to the age of Miss Blight's 
 brown silk, saying, " I recollect very well it was in the ninth 
 quarter of Blight's Sunday gown; " and a reference to a date 
 of this kind is considered as indisputable as to a Family Bible, 
 or an old almanack. 
 
 But these are small matters, Nelly, which I am half ashamed 
 to tell you, for under this poor garment there is a heart of so 
 much goodness as to make us wonder at the strange hiding- 
 places in which virtue sometimes delights in lurking, as if from 
 modesty it had taken every precaution not to be found out. 
 What do you think, Nelly ? I am told by Meggy that poor 
 Blight supports an old bedridden mother ! She has no positive 
 proof of this, but she is morally sure of it. This, then, accounts 
 for the reason why the poor governess is always working so 
 hard — never resting from crocheting purses, and knitting anti- 
 macassars sufficient to cover all the sofas in the world. If 
 you ask her for whom she makes this extraordinary quantity 
 (you can't think, Nell, how quickly and beautifully she works), 
 she simply replies, her pale face becoming paler, "for a dear 
 friend ; " and that is all we can get out of her to reward out- 
 vulgar curiosity. This must be the truth, for at all hours, 
 both early and late, has she got a needle in her hand. There 
 is a story that she wakes up sometimes in the middle of the 
 night, and works whilst the girls around her are sleeping. But 
 no one knows the cause of her excessive industry, and I really 
 think she would only be miserable if it were known, and her 
 fingers would not ply their work of love half so nimbly if she 
 suspected that the girls> as they watched her with such fixed 
 
THE EFFECT OF A POSTMAN S KNOCK. 39 
 
 curiosity, were acquainted with the sacred object for which she 
 was toiling. It is a puzzle, when or where she sells all the 
 things she finishes, and no one exactly likes to find out, though 
 one or two attempts have been made, but always ending, I am 
 happy to say, in the most complete failure. It makes me sad 
 to watch her anxiety when there is a postman's knock at the 
 door. She starts up in her seat, and pauses for a while in her 
 work (the only pause it ever knows), until she gives out the 
 letters ; and then you would pity her with all your heart to see 
 how disappointed she is — what a vacancy of hope falls like a 
 dark shadow upon her face — when she learns that there is not 
 one for her ! Though when there is a letter it is scarcely any 
 better. She sighs heavily, looks sometimes at a little locket 
 she carries in her breast, and hurries on with her work quicker 
 than ever, as if the purse she was finishing was to contain her 
 own money instead of somebody else's, and she had so much 
 that she wanted the use of it immediately. 
 
 If you have any fancy-work you want doing (any braces or 
 cigar cases you wish to give away as presents), will you send it 
 to me, Nelly, and I will ask Blight, if I can do so without 
 offending her, to do it for me ? 
 
 I'm obliged to finish my letter, Nelly, for the fact is I have 
 been writing the latter part of it in our bedroom with a piece 
 of wax candle I took out of a candlestick there was in the hall, 
 and there is only just sufficient left to enable me to scramble 
 into bed, and to assure you how dearly you are loved by 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Kitty ClovePw. 
 
 P.S. — I intend that my bootlace shall come undone, some- 
 where about the grocer's, when we are out a walking to-mor- 
 row, so that I may lag behind, and drop this in the post 
 unobserved. Oh ! dear — the candle's gone out. What sh — 
 
40 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 THE SEVENTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated April the 9th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON A VERY IMPORTANT DAY, AND 
 WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME OF HER MASTERS. 
 
 WELL, Nelly, it is all over with Sharpe and me. Our 
 presents (or rather my presents) have heen returned, our 
 letters torn up, and the key of my box given back to me. You 
 cannot imagine how spiteful the thing was. She reproached me 
 with all the horrible crimes in the world, until at last I began to 
 think I was the guiltiest creature under the sun, and actually 
 got so frightened that I couldn't look at myself in the glass ; 
 but as the girls still played with me, and still borrowed my 
 money, I thought I could not be so wicked after all. Accord- 
 ingly, screwing up my courage, as if I teas about to take a pill, 
 I snapt my fingers at Miss Meggy, and have been a widow ever 
 since. Catch me marrying again, that's all ! 
 
 To-day, dearest Nelly, is the 14th of February. Not a girl, 
 I believe, in the whole school, slept a wink last night ; ever 
 since sunrise, there has been such a humming and buzzing, 
 exactly as you hear at church when the service is just over. I 
 believe all the girls are mad. No one seems to care for fines 
 or forfeits. What is twopence or sixpence, or a hundred lines 
 of the " History of England," so long as a dear sweet valen- 
 tine is smuggled into the College ; and it requires all the art 
 which a woman has of smuggling, to pass a letter through the 
 examination of this place. I declare it's worse than the Cus- 
 tom-house, when you land from Boulogne. Every one who 
 comes in has his pockets searched, and the Lady Principal 
 stands on the staircase all day, watching for the postman. She 
 
A SILVER KEY TO EVERY SCHOOL. 41 
 
 little knows, however, that he has been bribed (with half a dozen 
 silver thimbles) to slip all the letters under the door without 
 that tell-tale " tat-tat ; " or that Susan has earned in one day 
 more ribbons and handkerchiefs than a year's wages would buy 
 her, simply by having a little human feeling. Snapp and the 
 Lady Principal were never fluttered with such hopes, I'll be 
 bound, when they were young, although it is so long ago, they 
 may well be excused for forgetting it. 
 
 But it does not matter, Nelly, their locking us up in a state 
 of siege. Rosy May has got a beauty sent round her bottle of 
 strengthening mixture by the doctor's handsome young man ; 
 and Lucy Wilde found such a duck tucked in her stockings from 
 the wash. And those impudent fellows next door have pelted 
 us over the garden wall with half a dozen all tied on to a piece 
 of string precisely as if it were the tail of a kite that had got 
 entangled in the trees. 
 
 - And then, Nelly (mind this is a secret) there came a new 
 Sunday dress for me (a beautiful shot silk, with all kinds of 
 colours, just like mother- o '-pearl) ; and what do you think ? 
 there, inside it, hid up the sleeve, was such a love of a valentine 
 for your dear, happy, happy, Kitty ! Oh gracious ! when I opened 
 it, I saw two sweet little doves, as white as bride-cake, caged 
 in a net of beautiful silver paper, hovering over a large heart, 
 smothered, dear, in the sweetest roses ! It was so pretty, you 
 can't tell ; and I was so happy I could have gone to bed and 
 have cried the rest of the afternoon. How kind of him to think 
 of me on such a day ! Bless him ! how foolishly I love him to 
 be sure, and I should be very wicked if I didn't ; for it was 
 only yesterday I flung the paring of an apple three times round 
 ray head, and when it had fallen on the ground, there it was in 
 the form of the dear letter " S ! " You understand, dearest, 
 but not a word ! 
 
 Snapp had one. It was inside an orange that was thrown 
 at her from over the wall. Those impudent boys again ! She 
 tore it up most indignantly, and flung the bits away with a burst 
 
42 LETTEKS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 of eloquence about " the vulgar ribaldry of such ignorant, wit- 
 less insults." We picked up the bits afterwards, and, putting 
 them together, found they formed the ugliest picture that ever 
 was seen, of an old witch riding on a birch-broom, with a big 
 bottle in her hand. It was too bad, but we have pasted the 
 pieces on a sheet of paper, and intend to keep it by us to spite 
 her with some day, if she is unkind to us. 
 
 The fact is the whole house is crazy. If it was breaking-up 
 day there couldn't be more fun and less discipline. Even that 
 long piece of dryness, Miss Twigg, has been caught laughing 
 several times, and the servants have been giggling up and down 
 stairs, and all over the house, and running every minute to the 
 door, until at last Mrs. Rodwell has put the chain up, and says 
 she'll answer the door herself. She's in such a passion that I 
 shouldn't like to be one of those poor girls who havn't paid for 
 their last half year, and to be taken up before her ! 
 
 Even that curious old Mr. Penn has become touched with 
 the infection. He has been setting us the drollest copies, about 
 "Faint Heart ne'er won Fair Lady," and " Though Lost to 
 Sight, to Memory Dear," and such like ; exceeding even his 
 usual eccentricities. 
 
 He is the funniest little specimen you ever saw, Nelly, and 
 ought to sit to have his portrait taken in China. He would 
 make a capital Dresden ornament, for he is a very great curi- 
 osity ; but in his present shape he is much more curious than 
 ornamental* He is our writing-master ; but his accomplish- 
 ments go far beyond pot-hooks and hangers ; for he teaches 
 us, also, arithmetic, mathematics (much we understand about 
 them ! ), and Latin (we all like " Amo, I love " — I think of 
 Sydney as I conjugate it), and elocution ; besides drawing to 
 the juniors. Poor Penn ! His is a sad life, Nell. He was 
 brought up with expectations of having a large fortune. Those 
 expectations are all gone now ; for you, cannot read the slight- 
 est hope in his care-worn face. His whole appearance implies 
 a struggle to live. Every article of his dress speaks of a long 
 
POYERTY SHIELDED PROM RIDICULE. 43 
 
 fight with poverty. His coat looks so thin, that you imagine 
 if it were brushed, it would he swept clean away like so much 
 dust. It is buttoned close up to his throat ; and what you see 
 of his linen is clean, though rough and jagged at the edges, 
 like the leaves of a book that's been badly cut. His boots are 
 patched to that extent that, when it has been raining very hard, 
 he doesn't like drying them at the fire, for fear of our laughing 
 
 at the numerous patches about them. His hat but never 
 
 mind about his dress, Nelly ; for I feel a sort of shame in 
 counting the darns and stitches about this poor fellow's appear- 
 ance. Suffice it to say, he always looks the gentleman in the 
 midst of his shabbiness, and that he wins the respect of us 
 giddy little girls, even in spite of his bad clothes. The latter, 
 I can tell you, is no small recommendation in a girl's school. 
 
 He is clever, and I would sooner learn of him than of that 
 ponderous Professor Drudge, whose explanations are so high- 
 ilown that we never can see what they mean, even hy standing 
 on tiptoe. At first, all manner of tricks were played upon old 
 Penn. He never could find his spectacles — his knife was 
 always mislaid — his quills were always stolen — but he never 
 grumbled or made the slightest complaint. Last winter he used 
 repeatedly to leave the room. We could not fancy why or 
 where he went, until one day he dropt his pocket-handkerchief. 
 It was nothing but holes and rags — almost as bad as the 
 handkerchief I have seen the clown in a pantomime wipe his 
 eyes with when he has pretended to be crying. He had been 
 ashamed to withdraw it in our presence ; and well he might, 
 for on my word, without meaning any harm, we should all have 
 burst out laughing, if he had. We could not have helped it, 
 Nelly. You never saw such a thing, dear ! " It was not a 
 pocket-handkerchief," said that great stupid Meggy Sharpe, 
 " so much as a Penn-wiper ! " 
 
 Well! as we were all laughing at its poverty and 
 comical appearance — you must have laughed yourself, Nelly — 
 who should come in but Blight ? In a few strong words she 
 
44 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 made us ashamed of our unfeeling mirth, and brought the 
 colour still more to our tingling cheeks by running up stairs 
 and bringing down one of her own pocket-handkerchiefs, which 
 she bade us slip unperceived into poor old Penn's coat pocket. 
 We watched him from the window. The old gentleman pulled 
 out his handkerchief as soon as he left the house, but, per- 
 ceiving the substitution, his head dropt, poor fellow, and we 
 saw him with the handkerchief held up to his eyes until he 
 turned the corner. 
 
 Ever since then, no more tricks have been played with our 
 writing-master. His poverty, unlike with most men, has been 
 his friend — and a very good friend too. Contributions have 
 been dropt in the same poor-box for his relief, until the old 
 gentleman has grown comparatively quite a dandy ; one of 
 Noble's black satin aprons has found him in stocks for months, 
 and Blight is always knitting comfortable muffetees, slippers, 
 and chest-protectors for him in the winter. We picture to 
 ourselves the old man emptying his pockets when he gets home, 
 and his surprise at finding the little gifts (and cake sometimes) 
 they contain. We are happy in the pleasure we know we 
 give him. He never says a word, but merely looks his thanks. 
 We feel his gratitude in the increased kindness we receive from 
 him. He calls us "his angels, " and we know directly what 
 he means ; if he said more, Lord! how we should all cry, 
 and he, perhaps, more than any of us. 
 
 He is here, Nelly, mostly all day long ; but doesn't dine 
 with us. The Lady Principal sends him out a plateful, heaped 
 up with almost insulting profusion, as if she were sending it 
 out to a beggar. Perhaps she isn't wrong, however, for it is 
 all eaten. He carries down the tray himself, that none may 
 see how cleanly his plate has been cleared. 
 
 I need not tell you, Nell, dear, that we all are fond of poor 
 Penn. He is so kind, so gentlemanly, so patient, acting to us 
 more like a parent than a teacher. Besides, he sets us the 
 strangest copies, the oddest problems — things never heard of 
 
THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING A FOREIGNER. 45 
 
 in a school before — but reconciling us to our tasks by making 
 us laugh, and interesting the dullest pupil. You won't credit 
 it, but that conceited thing Twigg fancies him in love with her. 
 She dresses out her ringlets as long as spaniel's ears, and puts 
 on cherry neck-ribbons when he comes. All day long is she 
 pestering him to mend her pen, and to explain away difficulties 
 about x in algebra ; just as if a man could be bothered into 
 love ! Penn takes it all very good-temperedly, but I imagine 
 it would bring his wig prematurely to the grave, if he was told 
 that he was going to marry Twigg. 
 
 None of us can tell what pittance the Princess' College gives 
 for the life-service of such a man. Not a tenth, I will be 
 flogged, of what they give to Herr Hullabulliitzer. Such fuss, 
 dear, as is made for the Herr s reception. The room is heated 
 to a certain degree of nicety, the light is subdued, sherry and 
 biscuits are ready for his refreshment, tea and cake {our cake) 
 brought in afterwards, and the young ladies kept waiting in 
 succession every quarter of an hour, so as not to lose a moment 
 of his valuable time. And you should only see him lounging 
 in the arm chair ; his little fourpenny-piece of a watch placed 
 before him, as if the object of his visit was to follow its hands, and 
 not our fingers. Why, he looks, dear, the handsomest personi- 
 fication of contentment, hair-oil, and conceit, that a foreigner 
 ever bamboozled people with in this country. His shirt is light 
 pink, and perforated like an openwork jam-tart. His wrist- 
 bands are turned back nearly as much as the sheet on the 
 pillow of a bed. His head would make a beautiful block for a 
 French hair-dresser's window ; and he has sufficient chains and 
 miniature pistols, donkeys, cannons, and dogs dangling round 
 his neck to start in business a Jew pedlar. He dozes one half 
 the time ; but then it is a reverie — the meditation of genius. 
 The other half he plays with his glossy curls or his whitey- 
 brown moustache, and so he may well be excused if he doesn't 
 know exactly to a minute what air his pupil is playing. It's 
 true, he scarely gives himself the trouble to correct us when 
 
46 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 we are wrong ; but then he teaches the young Princesses ! and 
 so we should not expect him to be over patient with little chits 
 of school-girls. He is an artist : poor Penn is only a man of 
 intellect. He goes to the Palace three times a week ; poor 
 Penn has only been to college ; so the two are not to be 
 compared. 
 
 Once, however, when your dearest Kitty was making more 
 noise over the battle of Prague than has ever been made over 
 the battle of Waterloo, the ringleted Herr caught up her hand 
 and said, in a voice that melted with the sweetness of barley- 
 sugar, " I can-not perr-mit such soft litt-tle fin-gerrs to murr- 
 derr har-mo-nie ; " and — and, dearest, I think Kitty's hand 
 felt the smallest possible baby's-touch of a squeeze. 
 
 I had on your pretty turquoise ring at the time, and since 
 then every girl has wished me to lend it her for her music 
 lesson. Just as if it was the ring that ! ! ! 
 
 Fraulein Pinchinhertz is quite sentimental over the hand- 
 some Herr. She sits in the room during the lessons, looking 
 and listening with all her soul in her eyes, and talking German 
 in the softest manner. But the Herr admires his boots 
 infinitely more than he does her. 
 
 But, bother take it, there's the bell for tea. Good-bye, my 
 darling Nelly, and do not forget the toffee you promised to 
 send to — Your fondest 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. I will show you the Valentine when I come home. 
 Tell me have you had any ? Pray, how many ? 
 
 P.S. It is very strange — some one sang under our windows 
 last night, "Wilt thou love me then as now ? " I wonder if 
 it was him ? 
 
 P.S. I have had this more than three weeks in my pocket, 
 waiting for an opportunity to post it. 
 
WHAT BECOME OF ALL THE GOVERNESSES ? 47 
 
 THE EIGHTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated Jpril the 19th.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF HER GOVERNESSES, AND 
 WHAT THE GOVERNESSES THOUGHT OF EACH OTHER. 
 
 ISN'T it strange, Nelly ? — but there doesn't appear to be a real 
 governess in the world, I mean a governess who was really 
 educated to be one. They are all governesses by accident. 
 And yet we know there are many poor girls who are brought 
 up young to the business, and intended for nothing else. I 
 wonder what becomes of them ? 
 
 All I know is, that out of all the governesses we have here, 
 there is only one who has received an education for it. That 
 one is Twigg. All the others have been driven into it by 
 necessity. 
 
 I will run through our governesses, Nell, and you shall judge 
 for yourself. Why, there's Blight. Her father kept his 
 hounds, and it seems they ran through his property in no time. 
 Then there's Snapp, she has danced at Almack's (so she says), 
 and had her lady's-maid — not an English one, but a real 
 femme de chambre, direct from Paris. Our French governess 
 has been just as unfortunate. She had chateaux innumerable 
 in the south of France, and domains covered with the richest 
 vines, olives, and truffles, only she lost them all during the 
 Revolution. The same with Fraulein Pinchinhertz. One half 
 the Danube would have been hers if it hadn't been for the 
 Hungarian war. And even down to poor Mrs. Dove; she would 
 be a rich woman if her fool of a husband hadn't taken a theatre, 
 and squandered all her fortune in less than a year. These 
 reverses are very pitiable, dear ; but I must say that, for ladies 
 
48 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 who have been accustomed in their youth to so much wealth 
 and luxury, they have settled down to their present drudgery 
 with the greatest ease and the happiest contentment. I am 
 sure if I had ever had a couple of powdered footmen standing 
 up behind my carriage, that I could not have brought myself 
 to wash and small-tooth-comb little girls in the unconcerned 
 way they do without a precious deal of grumbling ! 
 
 Snapp, however, does grumble a little bit when she alludes 
 to the incident (and she is always alluding to it) of the Queen 
 wishing her to marry a gouty old lord, who, she says, is still in 
 search for her. My only astonishment is that he does not find 
 her, for she goes out walking with the school every day, and 
 takes no pains whatever in concealing herself at church. 
 
 No circulating library at the sea-side was ever so full of 
 romance as Snapp. The mystery about her life, too, helps the 
 romance. We know she has a hopeless attachment, for all her 
 quotations are about "love," and she is always reading Byron, 
 and Moore, and L. E. L. She recites beautifully. Sometimes 
 when she comes to a very tender passage, she cries. We look 
 upon her as the victim of an unrequited passion, and pity her, 
 poor thing, with all our hearts. 
 
 But you must not imagine, Nelly, she is pretty. Her com- 
 plexion is too much the colour of pound-cake : and her eyes 
 are so prominent, that, when she is excited, I am afraid they 
 will drop out of her head. She is very intellectual, for all that, 
 and seems to know everything. It is dreadful to be examined 
 by her. She runs a glance right through you, like a packing- 
 needle, and can tell in a minute whether there's anything in 
 you. When I went up before her, I felt I was going to be 
 turned inside out, like a paper bag ; and when I left her, I came 
 away, Nelly, with such a sense of my own emptiness, that I 
 should like to have run away, and have hidden myself for very 
 shame. She is certainly very clever. We are all obliged to 
 confess it. She talks beautifully, too, about " Women's 
 Rights ; " and the girls do say that she has in her drawers a 
 
FRANCE AND GERMANY. 49 
 
 complete suit of the Bloomer costume, in which she lectured one 
 night at a neighbouring tavern, quite unknown to the Lady 
 Principal. However, she doe3 talk with such eloquence about 
 the injustice of Man to Woman, that I really believe, if a 
 proposal of marriage came to each girl at the moment 
 she was holding forth, every one of us would indignantly 
 refuse it ! 
 
 The worst is, she is so very proud : she associates with no 
 one : she considers the other governesses too much beneath 
 her. Altogether she is much too dignified for me. I believe 
 she would sooner break her back than stoop ; and that she 
 would rather lose a marriage, by being late, than hurry herself 
 one half-minute. None of us like Snapp ; but, as a proof how 
 much she is dreaded and respected, not a soul in the school 
 dares quiz her, or turn her into ridicule — excepting behind her 
 back ! Besides, we have a notion she is some great person in 
 disguise. The great attention, too, which she receives from 
 Mrs. Rod well, rather favours this impression. She invites her 
 to supper, and sends her tit-bits from her own dish at dinner. 
 
 But our German and French governesses afford us rare 
 fun. They are always bickering, always quarrelling. Mdlle. 
 Desiree boasts about Bonaparte ; Fraulein Pinchinhertz soars 
 into a long panegyric about Frederick the Great. Mademoiselle 
 is singing a chansonnette about la belle France ; and the 
 Fraulein directly begins humming something about T7at*rlantt, 
 or "©a£ J?rf)bne£, Jfttiti 3&§etn." Then they are always 
 imitating one another. If one comes down with a gay cap, the 
 other is sure to have on the next morning a cap twenty ribbons 
 gayer. If the hair of the one is dressed in bandeaux or 
 ringlets, the hair of the other is certain, before tea-time to have 
 fallen into bandeaux or ringlets also. It is the same with 
 their bonnets, their boots, their gowns, gloves, ribbons, their 
 everything. I believe if Mademoiselle wore Wellington boots, 
 or went out with a gentleman's hat, that Fraulein would not be 
 happy till she had done the same thing. They must spend all 
 
50 LETTEES LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 their salaries, and one-half their time, in these constant imita- 
 tions of one another. 
 
 However, the German governess may work her fingers off — 
 she may worry her ingenuity until she hasn't a rag left — it's 
 all of no use ; she will never succeed in dressing so well as 
 Mademoiselle Desiree ; who, though she wears only the com- 
 monest stuffs, is still the best-dressed girl in the school. Again, 
 Fraulein has no more waist than a balloon, and yet she is 
 always pulling herself in, until it's quite painful to look at 
 her. Now, Mademoiselle's waist is the tiniest I ever saw. I 
 am sure it cannot measure 13 inches round. What absurd 
 narrowness it shows, then, on the part of Fraulein to enter into 
 such hopeless competition ! If her body was only half as 
 narrow as her mind, there might be a chance for her — but till 
 then she had better save her stay-laces, and not make herself 
 ill by drinking so much vinegar. 
 
 Fraulein is very sentimental and superstitious. She will not 
 begin heeling a new pair of stockings on a Friday, and 
 generally sheathes her scissors against her rival on that 
 ominous day. She overflows with little romantic songs about 
 water-nymphs and knights in armour, and is as full as an old 
 nurse of supernatural legends, about witches and broomsticks, 
 skeleton lovers, and wild hunts in the air. She raves, too, 
 about one Jean Paul, whom we take to be her German lover. 
 We love to listen at dusk, before the candles are brought in, to 
 her tales of the Hartz mountains and her ghost stories, — so 
 exquisitely terrible, Nelly, that we are obliged to listen to them 
 with our eyes shut. In the midst, perhaps, the bell rings for 
 supper, and you should hear us all shriek again with fear ! As 
 soon as she has finished, Mademoiselle begins quizzing, and 
 spoils the effect by turning everything she has said into fun. 
 Then she rattles off with some lively anecdote, which chases 
 the ghosts away better than any holy water, and only excites 
 contempt of the most sauerJcroul sourness in the mind of 
 Fraulein for French frivolity. 
 
A BABY IN A GIRL'S SCHOOL. 51 
 
 I reserve Twigg for a future letter. I want to tell you now 
 about poor Mrs. Dove. We have many girls studying with us to 
 be governesses — practising for a future life of martyrdom. Mrs. 
 Dove is one of these pupil- slaves. She is so pretty, so gentle, 
 Nelly, so interesting, that all the school loves her and pities her ; 
 not that we ever rudely express our pity, for I often think that, 
 to a sensitive mind, pity is only another kind of alms-giving, 
 and that a poor person will turn from it with the same wounded 
 delicacy as if you tendered charity. I may be wrong, Nelly ; 
 but, never mind. Our pity to Mrs. Dove is of that silent kind 
 that only expresses itself in little acts of kindness, which she 
 receives as silently, but, I am sure, not the less gratefully. 
 
 Poor creature ! she is sadly in need of kindness, for she is a 
 widow ! a real widow, Nelly, all alone in this world (for her 
 husband, after he had squandered her fortune, shot himself in 
 remorse) ; but no, not all alone, for she has her baby with her 
 — such a darling baby ! which she clings to as a drowning 
 person clings to the plank that is his last support. It is such 
 a beautiful little dear ! Can't you conceive the life of a baby 
 in a boarding-school, Nell ? Any baby, let it be ever so ugly, 
 would be prized, and made much of ; but, when it is such a 
 lovely little angel as this, you can have no conception how it is 
 petted and caressed ; how we almost fight to get hold of it, 
 and how, having got hold of it, we are ready to fight again 
 before we part with it. I wonder he has not been pulled, like 
 a doll, into a thousand pieces, in our numerous struggles to 
 obtain possession of him, and nurse him, if it is only for two 
 or three minutes. I wonder all his senses have not been tossed, 
 like so much bran, out of him as we haye amused ourselves 
 for hours in tossing him up to the ceiling and catching him 
 again in our arms, raising quite a cackling chorus of " chick- 
 achick-a-biddies " all the while. I wonder he has not been 
 noisoned long ago, with the numerous sweeties and many- 
 coloured goodies we have stuffed down his little throat ; and, 
 lastly, I wonder more than all, what with his mother kissing 
 
 e 2 
 
52 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 him, and what with all of us kissing him from morning to 
 night, that the little fellow has not been regularly hissed to 
 death by this time. He is only eighteen months old now ; but 
 if he ever knows happiness hereafter, what he at present enjoys 
 should be sufficient to last him all his life. What a pity it is 
 he cannot remain as he is. What a happy existence, to be 
 perpetually a baby in a girls school ! I cannot imagine any- 
 thing more delicious out of Paradise, Nell ! Perpetual inno- 
 cence, love, play, and enjoyment ! with no cares, no troubles, 
 no pain, except from being a little overfed occasionally. 
 
 Mrs. Dove is no party to our romps. She has no heart for 
 it. It would not look natural with the deep seams of grief upon 
 her face. She never smiles, excepting when she is alone with 
 her boy and attempts to play with him ; and then it is a 
 smile that begs for pity as seen through her widow's cap — 
 the smile of one who was smiling through the bars of a prison. 
 She is never away from her books. Her melancholy never seems 
 at rest, excepting when she is studying ; and I am sure she must 
 have a constant headache from excess of it. From morning to 
 midnight, she never pauses ; never goes out to allow a few rays 
 of sunshine to enter into the dark despondency of her breast ; but 
 you will always find her in some lonely corner, learning, learning, 
 learning, until it is pitiable to see how deadly pale she looks, 
 and horrible to reflect how long so severe a trial of the mind 
 and body can last. She scarcely allows herself a few moments 
 for baby even ; denying herself the luxury of its caresses, 
 tearing herself away from its chubby little arms, and resigning 
 him to the affection of a stranger, to begin again the endless 
 task, the task which seems to engross all her faculties and 
 energy — the task whose only end can be to leave the child 
 without a mother. 
 
 We think she has no friends, and is without means, and that 
 she is slaving herself in this way to maintain her child as a 
 governess, but it's ridiculous, Nelly, she will never make a 
 governess ; with her lady-like manners — her saint-like sweet- 
 
THE STRUGGLE TO BE A GOVERNESS. 53 
 
 ness — her angelic forbearance ; so humble, so patient and 
 enduring, so modest and doubtful of her own 'abilities ! She 
 may break her heart in the effort ; she may turn all her virtues 
 into as many vices; and even then what chance has she against 
 that she-dragon Snapp, with a mouth filled with wise teeth, and 
 an old maid's tongue tipped with poison ? 
 
 We know nothing of her story, and even that sneaking 
 Carney has paused, as before a sanctuary, in the presence of 
 such holy grief, and has not dared to ask a single question as 
 to the secret of so many tears. But it is clear, Nelly, the poor 
 widow is here cheap. We know that plainly enough from the 
 Lady Principal's laying such stress on the obligation of 
 receiving a baby into the school, and a regular splutter of 
 twaddle about her benevolence and generosity, which was worse 
 than crossing the Channel to listen to. Besides Mrs. Dove 
 never goes into supper with the other governesses, but has a 
 bit of dry bread, like the girls ; and she has to wait on herself, 
 sleeping in a dark little closet, where the wonder is how she 
 can see to kiss baby, much less to dress the dear little fellow ! 
 
 Poor mother ! I hope she may never be taunted, nor teased, 
 nor bullied, nor snubbed, as most governesses are ; but that 
 she may always be treated with the gentleness of her own 
 nature ; and that each tear she drops into the cup of life may 
 sweeten the bitter draught for her ! 
 
 Good night, Nelly. After this little history I am sure you 
 cannot wish to hear anything more at present from 
 Your loving, sleepy-eyed 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. Twigg (she is the niece of the Lady Principal, and is 
 also studying for a governess, for she is destined some day to 
 walk into her aunt's educational shoes, but then she is studying 
 in a very different way to poor Mrs. Dove ! ) has promised to 
 drop this in the post for me on condition I get her a portrait of 
 my brother Oscar, and a lock of his hair. 
 
 P.S. Bother take it ! to-morrow is washing night. 
 
54 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 THE NINTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated May 1st.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT TOOK PLACE AT SCHOOL ON A MOST 
 IMPORTANT OCCASION. 
 
 THERE is no school to-day, Nelly. We have got a holiday, 
 and I mean to enjoy it by writing to you, dearest. 
 
 My pretty Eleanor must know that it has been our confir- 
 mation morning. At last they are all off ; and it has been 
 such a busy time of crying and laughing — of such frivolity one 
 moment, and hysterical excitement the next — that I am not 
 sorry they are gone. I thought they never would be ready ! 
 The fuss began as early as six o'clock. First of all the 
 clergyman came — then the hair-dresser (though he styles 
 himself on his cards " artiste en cheveux ") — then a breathless 
 milliner — then a puffing shoemaker — then more milliners and 
 more shoemakers — so that really it has been nothing but 
 hurry, flurry, worry, slcurry, ever since we opened our eyes 
 this morning. The door knocker has been going incessantly 
 for four hours — and there seemed to be a competition between 
 it and the girls' tongues as to which of the two should make 
 the greatest noise. So if my letter throbs with a slight 
 headache, Nell, you will know exactly on whose head to lay 
 the fault. 
 
 To begin, Lizzy's dress was too short, and Jessie's was so 
 long that it might have run an express train (Meggy Sharpe 
 said) all the way to Brentford ! More than this, the two 
 Suetts could not get their frocks to meet, and it was laughable 
 to see them running about, begging of every one to help to 
 lace them. No one's dress seemed to fit, excepting Amy 
 
DRESS AND REDRESS. 55 
 
 Darling's ; but I believe if Amy was to try on a barrister's 
 silk gown, that by some miracle it would fit her as beautifully 
 as the dresses in a French fashion book ! 
 
 Poor Mary Owen seemed in a dream. It made me unhappy 
 to notice her. She was dressed in an ugly, thick, bed-gowny 
 garment, which was thought "quite good enough for her." 
 Her cheeks were transparently pale. Her large eyes, so full 
 of sorrow, were lit up with a strange radiance as if a light 
 was burning behind them. It put me in mind of the light I 
 have sometimes seen burning over a tomb ; and as I saw 
 Mary's lips move as if in silent prayer, the picture of a tomb 
 in some gloomy vault, with the dark figure of a woman 
 stretched over it, rose without my helping it before my 
 imagination. I thought Mary was the mourner, and the 
 tomb was the one in which were buried all her hopes of 
 happiness in this world. 
 
 A warm colour flushed over the poor girl's face (like the tint 
 of a cathedral window falling on some marble statue), when she 
 first noticed the difference between her shroud-like frock and 
 the gay dresses of her companions ; but it quickly passed 
 away, like a lad thought ones leen ashamed to think of. 
 After she had assisted to dress Amy, she was going to put on 
 the ugly thing, when Amy pushed it aside and brought forth 
 one just like her own, made by the same dressmaker out of 
 the same materials, and sent by her mamma for " dear Mary." 
 
 Then, Nelly, poor Owen was quite overcome — weeping, 
 reproaching, and caressing Amy by turns — saying first " it 
 was too bad of her," and then that u it was too good of her," 
 and hanging round her neck, as if she was the only one dear 
 object on earth she had to cling to — and doing it all so 
 touchingly that in less time than you can put on your bonnet 
 we were all crying, and I firmly believe (so contagious is 
 goodness, Nelly,) that every girl present was angry with 
 herself that she had not done the same thing, and wished in 
 atonement to pull off her beautiful dress, and offer it to Mary. 
 
56 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 This crying took so long that there would not have been a 
 piece of dry muslin carried to church that day, if the Lady 
 Principal had not come up stairs to inquire into the reason of 
 the delay. There she found the artiste tearing his hair (after 
 the old approved French recipe for desespoir) in such a liberal 
 manner as to soon require the use of one of his own wigs ; 
 there she heard the governesses exhausted with scolding ; 
 there she saw the girls with red eyes and " rats' tails " that 
 *' would be a disgrace to any school." Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 
 what a storm there was after our little shower ! 
 
 It was a lovely sight, Nelly, these twelve young girls in 
 pure white, with their long lace veils — many of them pretty 
 enough for brides — and all of them beautified for the occasion, 
 although, except with Mary and Amy, I do not think there 
 was much thought of religion. It seemed to me that their 
 thoughts were all wrapt up in their fine clothes. 
 
 Carney was the only ugly one, sneaking and prying behind 
 her veil, as if it could conceal from heavenly eyes her want of 
 truthfulness. And those proud creatures — Noble and Peacock ! 
 May I always be as poor as one of our Saturday's dinners, if 
 they hadn't got Honiton veils and white bouquets to distinguish 
 them from the rest! On an occasion like the present I think 
 they might have kept their pride in their drawers at home — 
 nest-ce-pas, Nelly ? 
 
 Just as they were starting, the Lady Principal came into the 
 room to address " a few words of motherly admonition to her 
 dear children." She had scarcely got half-way through her 
 first sentence cf big words — every one of which rolled along as 
 heavily as an omnibus on a breaking-up day — when she espied 
 Mary's graceful appearance. She grew crimson at the sight, 
 and, calling her forward, inquired, in a voice as ragged and as 
 cutting as a saw, " Pray, Miss Owen, inform me why you 
 have presumed to wear other than the costume I considered 
 suited to your position. What new pride, I should like to 
 know, is this, my fine young lady ? " 
 
THE POOR WIDOW. 57 
 
 Before Mary could stammer out a word Amy had darted 
 forward, and was "telling the whole tale." The dress had 
 arrived too late to consult the Lady Principal ; she was very 
 sorry it had not been done ; if it was any one's fault it was 
 hers ; and she begged that the punishment might not be 
 visited upon any one else, but upon her alone. As the noble 
 girl spoke, the white veil round her head shone like a bright 
 ileecy cloud, and her voice sounded in my ears like an angel's 
 that was speaking out of it. 
 
 There was no time for lecturing, or the indulgence of spite, 
 or revenge, or else I am sure Mary would have had, after all, 
 to wear the white smock ; and as for Amy, I tremble, dear, 
 like a dish of blancmange, to think what tortures might have 
 been in store for her ! 
 
 Well, after pivoting them round and round to see that 
 all was tidy, and everybody running to fetch something 
 that had been forgotten, the chosen twelve were pro- 
 nounced "ready," and divided into two parties, six for each 
 yellow fly. 
 
 At this point, Mrs. Dove made her appearance in the room. 
 Her eyes were swollen, as though she had only just left off 
 crying. She was dressed in the deepest mourning, and as she 
 pressed her baby boy to her bosom, she looked a sad picture of 
 woman's acutest suffering. There was something so solemn, 
 so pathetic in the contrast of her dark widowhood amongst 
 these youthful bridal figures, that awe stopped every tongue, 
 and we suddenly stood still, looking pitifully on her grief, and 
 for the moment becoming sharers in it. She did not say a 
 word, but somehow her sorrow spoke to us with the eloquence 
 of a touching sermon. Each step, each look, was a heart- 
 rending appeal to our sympathies ; to gaze upon her was to 
 feel filled with charity. I daren't look round, but I am sure 
 there wasn't a dry eye in the room. 
 
 She placed the sleeping infant in Blight's arms, and joined 
 the party that was going to church ; for it seems that, though 
 
58 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 married, she had never been confirmed, and that she had 
 secretly prepared for the ceremony. 
 
 Poor struggling widow ! There at least was faith and hope, 
 for without them what would her life he worth ? No finery — 
 no Honiton laces — no love of show had urged her to her present 
 act — no tender exhortations of a young and handsome clergy- 
 man had prepared her spirit, and yet, Mary dear, from my 
 heart I prayed that, when I was confirmed, it might be as 
 she was — in humble religious sincerity and my common every- 
 day dress. 
 
 Oh ! there they are back. I must run to hear all about it. 
 Excuse this abrupt flight of 
 
 Yours, Nelly love, 
 
 The same as ever, 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. The Lady Principal is delighted. The Reverend Mr. 
 Meltam (his hair is parted so beautifully down the middle, 
 dear,) complimented her upon the " extremely good behaviour 
 of her pupils." The whole twelve, and Mrs. Dove too, are 
 invited to take supper with her this evening. 
 
 P.S. I don't mind telling you, Nelly, we are going to have 
 a supper to-night ; not a common supper with the governesses 
 — off stale sandwiches and small beer — but a snug little supper 
 up stairs in our own bedroom — sweets smuggled in a fright, 
 and eaten in a tremble. The excitement is the best part of it, 
 though I must confess justice is generally done to the sausage- 
 rolls, the banbury-puffs, and the other dainties provided. We 
 wait until Blight has . gone her visiting rounds. When every- 
 thing is quiet, Lucy Wilde or Rosy Mary begins telling some 
 horrible story, often reciting an entire novel in a quarter of an 
 hour. As soon as we are sure all spies are asleep, and that 
 there's not even a mouse stirring, the wax-ends, stuck into 
 pomatum pots, are lighted (unless the moon graciously gives us 
 the light of her countenance), and the feasting begins. There 
 
A SUPPER 0IS T THE SLY. 59 
 
 are only six girls in our room — Wilde, Mary, Sharpe, St. 
 Ledger, Embden, and nay worthy self. Fraulein sleeps in a 
 little closet, about as big as a china-cupboard, called a dressing- 
 room ; but she is a good hard sleeper, and never wakes or 
 hears anything of our midnight revels. Once, however, I 
 thought I heard her giggling under the bedclothes, when 
 Sharpe was telling a frightful German tragedy. Perhaps she 
 was enjoying the fun quietly by herself, though why she should 
 laugh, when every one else was shivering with fear over the 
 frightful love incidents, is more than I can tell. Well, Nelly, 
 the banquet is spread on one of the girl's beds, round which 
 we all sit, somewhat in tailor-fashion. There is not much 
 variety in our entertainments, as we can only send to the 
 confectioners ; but it does not matter. If we had roasted 
 peacocks, or sweetmeats prepared by nuns, or all the rich 
 things in the Lord Mayor's larder, we could not enjoy them 
 more. It is such rare fun, and worth any of the grand dinners 
 you go to, Nelly. Sometimes an alarm is given, and, quicker 
 than any conjuror's trick, the wax-ends are extinguished, the 
 goodies disappear no one knows where, and in less than a 
 minute every one is fast asleep. It's very strange, but Blight, 
 call as loud as she will, never can wake us. This trick, 
 however, is sometimes sadly annoying. The rapidity of the 
 change crumbles the light pastry all into nothing, and in the 
 quickness of the transformation one cannot always recollect 
 whose turn it is to be helped next. Besides, there is the 
 danger, as you jump into bed in the dark, of falling upon 
 half-a-dozen " turnovers," which, in the hurry of the surprise, 
 have been swept in between your sheets to get them out of the 
 way. On one occasion I saw St. Ledger smeared all over 
 with jam, until she looked like a large " rolly-polly pudding." 
 How we did laugh to be sure ! As our suppers are rather rich, 
 we generally have a little eau de Cologne sprinkled on a lump 
 of sugar — just sufficient to scare away the nightmare — though 
 we prefer the essence of peppermint (when we can get it) mixed 
 
60 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 with a little water. You can't think how nice and warming it 
 is ! To night Embden has got a cucumber and some maids- 
 of-honour, and we expect a rare treat. By-the-by, Nelly, 
 when you come and see me, remember our supper-table. 
 Bring something sweet and rich with you, and put into your 
 pocket some wax-ends. Our stock of chandlery is rather low 
 at present. Come soon, there's a dear pet. 
 
 THE TENTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 (Dated Matj the 16th.) 
 SHOWING WHO WAS THE THIEF. 
 
 IN my last letter, Nelly, I alluded to a tea party. As you 
 can have no idea what such an entertainment can be like, 
 I will describe one for you. 
 
 The seniors only are admitted. One must have numbered 
 fifteen blushing summers, and have attained the altitude of the 
 first degree, before being entitled to this great honour. One 
 by one we are announced,- and received, introduced, and seated 
 as at a formal party. Each young lady plays in her turn the 
 hostess, and tries her best to entertain her guests. She is the 
 goddess of the tea-tray, and has absolute control over the thin 
 bread and butter (what a shadowy mockery to hungry school 
 girls, each of whom could devour an entire loaf ! ). But we 
 would not mind being put on short commons, if we were not 
 compelled to talk. That is the greatest cruelty. Every young 
 lady is expected to bring a new idea. You may laugh at this, 
 Miss Nelly, and fancy we are not so cruelly treated after all, 
 but let me tell you that new ideas are not so easily caught 
 as a cold. I have known poor girls lie awake for nights, and 
 yet not succeed in finding one. Just you try to get a new idea 
 -every day of your life, and see how soon you'll break down ! 
 
A NEW IDEA. 61 
 
 Our new ideas are ushered into conversation in the following 
 manner : — 
 
 Lizzy Spree. " It is remarkable that balloons were invented 
 in the year 1755 — the same year that George the Second 
 reigned on the throne of England." 
 
 (A dead silence, and another cup of tea handed round.) 
 
 Susan Carney. " If we could only see ourselves with the 
 eyes of other people, we should examine the faults of ourselves 
 more, and the faults of others less ! 
 
 (A long pause to recover from this withering sarcasm.) 
 
 Meggy Sharpe. " It is a most curious fact, but at the same 
 time no less true, that the tortoise, which provides us with the 
 beautiful shell for our combs, has not the smallest particle of 
 hair itself." 
 
 Emilia Suett. (i The introduction of pine-apples from the 
 West Indies took place in the year 1845, and since then have 
 become so plentiful that they are not unfrequently sold in the 
 streets for a penny a slice." 
 
 I forgot to tell you that Miss Priscilla Hextra (Mrs. Rodwell's 
 maiden sister) is the Queen who receives us, every evening, on 
 these state occasions. After each new idea, she delivers a 
 short lecture, made doubly wise, by being delivered through a 
 pair of green spectacles. She corrects us when wrong, compli- 
 ments us when we are right, and in every case says " a few 
 words relevant to the subject in question." For instance, with 
 regard to pine-apples, she told us about the culture of them, 
 informed us of their former price, inveighed against the alarm- 
 ing increase of luxuries, compared the extravagance of modern 
 London with the abstinence of ancient Sparta, and so arrived 
 at the conclusion that black broth was infinitely better for the 
 health, both physical and moral, of a nation, than turtle-soup ! 
 
 At last the half-hour strikes, we take a ceremonious leave, 
 and escape down stairs to coax Susan for the remains of the 
 thick bread and butter. 
 
 Now, Nelly, I dare say these invitations are meant kindly 
 
62 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 enough, but what possible good do they do us ? We are too 
 frightened to talk, and as for enjoying ourselves, we are sitting all 
 the while upon pins and needles thinking of our " new idea. " The 
 notion, moreover, that it teaches us how to receive company is 
 absurd ! Goodness forbid, that I should ever play the part of 
 hostess to my friends in the same chilly, ceremonious, manner 
 my nervousness makes me display on these solemn occasions. 
 Besides, it's rather cruel to school us, when school is over, 
 under the pretence of hospitality ! 
 
 We have had such a merry time of it, lately ! — such lots of 
 half-holidays. Last week, too, was the Race Week. You should 
 have seen how well our school turned out. We were all dressed 
 in our Sunday best, and mistresses, half-boarders, the Lady 
 Principal, and even her sister Priscilla, all joined in the ranks 
 to make the procession look longer. It was quite a grand sight. 
 The tall girls were placed first — and they gradually grew less 
 and less in size till the shortest came last — something like the 
 shape of the Pandean pipes. Mrs. Spankit's school passed 
 us in the High Street. They looked a mere apron-string by 
 the side of our long line, and they wisely disappeared down 
 the first street. The best thing after a defeat is to run away. 
 No wonder the gentlemen, returning home from the races, took 
 such notice of us ! They kissed their hands, threw bouquets, 
 and pelted us with nuts, pincushions, and motto bonbons. My 
 pocket was as full of kisses as a baby's face. I caught a pear, 
 a set of wooden tea-things inside, notwithstanding Snapp's 
 rage, who thought it was meant for her. I never knew such 
 conceit. But this fun was too good to last. After a time 
 Mrs. Rodwell got very indignant, and took us home by the 
 back-lanes. 
 
 There was such a to-do when we returned to the Princesses' 
 College. The whole school was assembled, and, after a severe 
 lecture, ten of the eldest girls were condemned to " Silenzia." 
 This is a dreadful punishment, Nelly — the severest we have — 
 and is a million times worse than solitary confinement. You 
 
a fortnight's silence. 63 
 
 are struck dumb all at once. You are not allowed to say a 
 word — not even to talk to yourself— and if any girl speaks to 
 you, or you are seen speaking to any girl, she is silenced also ; 
 and so, in self-defence, no one will let you say a word. 
 
 Once the whole College was silenced in this way for a 
 fortnight. It was so curious ! A stranger, coming in, would have 
 fancied it were a Deaf and Dumb Asylum, or that he was visiting 
 by mistake a Seminary for Young Quakeresses. You imagine, 
 perhaps, we were very miserable. Not a bit of it ! We never 
 had more fun, for somehow a school girl will extract fun out of 
 almost everything. We talked with our fingers — we kept up 
 conversations on our slates — we expressed our opinions by 
 means of pantomime (how you would have laughed to have seen 
 Lucy Wilde play the balcony scene in Borneo and Juliet 
 without saying a word ! ), we corresponded on slips of paper, 
 until there was so much noise, such continued tittering, such 
 loud explosions of laughter, that the Lady Principal was glad 
 to give us the use of our tongues again. The loss of it 
 makes a woman desperate. I must say I never felt so truly 
 wicked as when I was sentenced to this unnatural dumbness. 
 Speech relieves the heart of many an evil thought. Besides, 
 this silent system encourages sulking, and only see how bad 
 sulky people generally are. Then, again, I want to know, 
 if it is made a crime to speak, how are we to say our prayers ? 
 
 I was looking out for you, Nelly, all the afternoon on the 
 Horticultural Fete Day. We had another half-holiday. We 
 were allowed as a great favour to walk in the front garden ; 
 but, only after we had put on our dancing dresses. Mary 
 Owen was excluded ; her bonnet was not " good enough." All 
 the windows were thrown open, by chance, of course, and not 
 done purposely to show the rows of white dimity beds, and the 
 drawings, maps, and large globes ; and, doubtlessly, it was by 
 accident also, that Annie Flower was kept playing all day in 
 the drawing-room with the loud-pedal down (she is one of our 
 best players, only the noise she makes gives you the head-ache 
 
64 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 sometimes). It is very wrong to notice these things, but 
 school-girls have got nothing else to do. In the same way, we 
 couldn't help noticing that the Lady Principal was seated near 
 the window, all the time the carriages were rattling by, dressed in 
 the most elegant deshabille, and with a most elegant hook and 
 cambric handkerchief in her hand. She doesn't read so much 
 on other days ! However, we had plenty of amusement, though 
 those tiresome boys next door nearly frightened us out of our 
 lives by throwing over detonating balls, and by firing off little 
 cannons every other minute. 
 
 Oh ! such a dreadful thing has occurred. For a whole week 
 nothing else has been talked of. You must know, dearest 
 Nelly, that for some time past a number of things have been 
 disappearing. Crochet-needles, pencil-cases, scissors, pen- 
 knives, all vanished, and no one could tell how, or when, or 
 where. The number of handkerchiefs that were missing 
 would suffice a whole theatre any night Mr. Charles Kean was 
 playing. Nothing was safe, and one evening when I went up 
 to bed I found that my night-gown had gone also. I was 
 so put out, you can't tell. Well, the servants were accused 
 the first, and they were dismissed ; but as the same mysterious 
 disappearance went on just as mysteriously as before, it was 
 clear it couldn't be them. No girl liked to accuse another ; 
 but it was perfectly evident, as Snapp said, that the things 
 couldnt ivalJc off without hands. I never saw the Lady 
 Principal so upset, and well she might, for if the objects had 
 only kept flying away with the same miraculous rapidity, there 
 wouldn't have been by this time a single thing left in the 
 school. She didn't know whom to accuse. However, as " an 
 example V was wanted, poor Mary Owen was punished each 
 time for the thief, although we all knew Mary would not take 
 a lump of sugar that wasn't her own. 
 
 Well, last Tuesday, Noble's guardian came with his grand 
 phaeton, and gave her a sovereign. Out of pride she stuck it 
 on her desk, that every one might see it. In a little time it 
 
HOW THE THIEF WAS DISCOVERED. 65 
 
 was gone I No one could tell how, or liad noticed any one 
 take it ; hut it was gone ! 
 
 What a fuss ensued ! The room wa| W; the desk 
 and drawers were turned inside out ; ail our pockets were 
 searched : but no sovereign could be found. It was very 
 singular. The Lady Principal appealed to us, and spoke 
 beautifully about the sin of stealing. She entreated the 
 culprit to confess — promised forgiveness — and gave us each a 
 piece of paper of the same size, on which we were to write, 
 <; I am " or " lam not the thief," that she alone might know 
 the sinner. 
 
 The papers were handed in, opened, and, as you may guess, 
 were all alike. Every girl had written down, " I am not the 
 thief." 
 
 Then, amidst a silence such as I have never heard before, 
 and with all our cheeks burning, the Lady Principal gave us a 
 long lecture ; and concluded by saying that in her mind she 
 had not the slightest doubt Mary Owen was the culprit— she 
 was the only vicious, evil-minded girl in the College — too 
 hardened in crime even to acknowledge her fault. 
 
 Poor Mary protested, with her tears and her blushes, that 
 she was innocent of the base charge ; but the more she 
 protested, the louder grew the reproaches upon her wicked- 
 ness. She was locked up in the cloak-cupboard, where you 
 can hardly tell whether it is night or day, and allowed 
 nothing but bread and water. Day after day, for nearly a 
 week, she was visited by Mrs. Rodwell, who tried every 
 persuasion and every threat to induce her to confess ; but all 
 in vain. Mary simply said, u I have nothing to confess." 
 
 Amy Darling cried herself ill over her friend's disgrace, 
 and scarcely slept for watching, in order to discover who was 
 the real thief. 
 
 Now listen, dear Nelly, with all your eyes and ears, to the 
 story how Amy's sisterly vigilance was rewarded. Last 
 Friday a large hamper came for the two Suetts : it contained 
 
66 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 Indian preserves and pickles, and cakes, and fruit, and all 
 sorts of good tilings. As we had to go out walking, the 
 hamper was only just peeped into, and left, with the lid open, 
 in the school-room. Amy, who really had made herself 
 unwell, was allowed to stop at home and lie on the sofa ; hut 
 I believe her object more particularly was to visit Mary Owen 
 on the sly, and comfort her in her dreary place of confinement. 
 
 When we returned home, the school-room was locked, and 
 the key removed. The servants were sent for ; they knew 
 nothing about it. Amy was summoned, and, taking the key 
 from her pocket, opened the door, saying, " There, Mrs. 
 Rodwell, there is the thief. *' 
 
 True enough, there was Carney lying on the ground, with 
 jar3, half-empty, strewed about her, and the hamper upset, and 
 its delicious contents littered about the room. She was crying, 
 and seemed to be very miserable and ill. She rose, however, 
 and, moaning most piteously, fell upon her knees, looking so 
 conscience-stricken, that, guilty as she was, I half-pitied her. 
 
 Amy, upon being questioned, explained, how lying upon the 
 sofa she had heard the school-room door open. Knowing no 
 one was in the house but herself and the servants, she crept 
 cautiously down stairs to spy and to reconnoitre. To her 
 astonishment she discovered the sneaking Carney, who had 
 returned home from the walk upon some slight excuse, helping 
 herself most liberally to the rich things in the Suetts' hamper. 
 She was eating away as if it was her last meal, and filling her 
 pockets at the same time to lay in a good store for the next. 
 Amy said nothing, but, gently closing the door, turned the 
 key upon her. 
 
 Oh, Nelly ! what a scene followed ! Carney, seeing there 
 was no hope of mercy, flung herself upon the floor, and crawled 
 and writhed like a serpent. Some kind friend had rushed out 
 instantly, and liberated poor Mary Owen. She came into the 
 room, looking as pale as death, and her whole frame trembling. 
 Instinctively, as it were, she ran to Amy, for her heart seemed 
 
HOW THE THIEF WAS EXPELLED. G7 
 
 to lead her to her as naturally as a child goes to its mother, 
 and she must have fallen, if the dear angel {for she is an 
 angel, truly,) had not caught her in her arms. Then the 
 Lady Principal went up to. her with a gentleness I had never 
 seen in her before, and taking hold of Mary's hand, raised 
 it to her lips. She spoke, but her tones were so full of kindness 
 that I should not have known it for the same voice. " My 
 dear Miss Owen," she said, "I have been harsh and unjust. 
 I have come to ask you to have the grace to forgive me. I 
 am painfully sorry for what I have done." Mary summoned 
 all her strength, and rose from her chair. She attempted to 
 speak, but tears flowed instead of words, and, sobbing as if her 
 heart must break, she threw herself round her mistress's neck 
 and kissed her. I don't recollect anything more. 
 
 The same evening Mary found a parcel under her pillow. 
 It was a beautiful edition of the Bible, with a dear inscription 
 in the Lady Principal's own hand-writing. You've no idea 
 how proud the poor girl is of it. 
 
 Good bye, my dear pet Nelly. I have written till I 
 am quite unhappy. Kiss me, and let me close this stupid 
 letter. 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. It is Mrs. RodwelFs birthday next Monday week. It 
 is usual to give her a present on that occasion. Every girl 
 contributes what she can afford, and sometimes more than she 
 can afford, in order to curry favour. It is not generally an 
 offering of the heart, Nelly. Most girls give because they 
 daren't refuse ; but this year every purse has been emptied, 
 and I doubt if there is a penny left in the school to give to a 
 beggar. This is only the first collection ; but it's very strange, 
 the Lady Principal has suddenly become quite popular. 
 
 P.S. Oh! I had nearly forgotten to tell you, that half-an- 
 hour after the above discovery, a fly came round to the door. 
 Carney's boxes were placed in it, and, after restoring to each 
 
 r 2 
 
68 LETTEES LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 girl what she had taken, and humbly begging their pardon, 
 she was sent home with Snapp, disgraced and expelled. 
 
 Do you know my night-gown was found in her box ? I 
 wasn't so angry with her as I expected I should be ; but told 
 her " she might keep it if she wished.' y She looked at me so 
 sorrowfully : but good-bye. 
 
 THE ELEVENTH LETTER LEFT. 
 
 {Dated May 2§th and June 1st) 
 SHOWING UP A TERRIBLE ABUSE, AND A FRIGHTFUL MYSTERY. 
 
 YESTERDAY was a half-holiday, and we had all been 
 busy helping Amy Darling in making a plum-cake for 
 little Jessie Joy's birthday. Twigg bought the plums, sugar, 
 and spice. Susan got us the flour, butter, and eggs — and 
 Embden mixed it in a washing-basin (don't faint, Nelly, as I 
 should have done at one time : there is no place like school 
 for curing a person of daintiness). The cake looks remark- 
 ably nice, and cook has promised to bake it (for a shilling). It 
 is as full as it can hold of large pieces of candied lemon-peel, 
 and I am looking forward to the agreeable surprise it will be 
 to our pretty Jessie. 
 
 After washing the paste from my fingers, as I intended 
 having half an hour's practice, I was going leisurely down to 
 the drawing-room, when up rushed a tall red-faced man, all 
 hair and moustaches. He seized hold of me, and before I 
 could remember to scream, kissed me two or three times. Oh ! 
 dear, Nelly, I was so frightened that I quite forgot to box his 
 ears, and it was as much as I could do to run upstairs and 
 lock myself in the first bed-room, where I seized hold of the 
 pitcher, and was prepared to throw its contents over the first 
 person that came in. Accidentally I caught a peep of my face 
 
A STKANGE GENTLEMAN IN THE SCHOOL. 69 
 
 in the glass, and I looked such a fright that I shouldn't have 
 known myself again. 
 
 • Well, Nelly, as soon as the stairs were clear, I ran down to 
 tell all about this long-haired monster (I am sure he could be 
 no gentleman — he smelt so terribly of tobacco). I found the 
 whole school in a fearful state of consternation. It seems he had 
 walked into the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, 
 and then walked out again whistling — but not before he had 
 patted Annie Flower and Noble under the chin with his filthy, 
 dirty hands, with no gloves on. I told my little adventure, 
 when suddenly we heard a loud noise above, and then a piercing 
 scream, which made us all jump. Snapp and Blight, and 
 every one of the mistresses ran out of the room, and left us 
 quite alone. 
 
 How quiet the school was that afternoon ! We forgot every- 
 thing about our cake in the intensity of the excitement. 
 Every girl seemed afraid to speak. If we quarrelled, our 
 highest words went no higher than a whisper. All our games 
 were dropped. The noisiest romps walked about on tiptoe. The 
 grand-piano was closed. Every door leading to the upper part 
 of the college was locked. Orders were given that no one was 
 to leave the school-room under any pretence whatever. A deep 
 silence moaned throughout the house, like a person breathing 
 heavily in his sleep. Even the school-mistresses talked low, as 
 if there was a friend dangerously ill in the room, — and the 
 girls, as they were broken into small groups, with their heads 
 huddled close together, looked like physicians consulting 
 anxiously on the patient's case. In the midst of the obscurity, 
 too, dark rumours went floating about, like shadows, increasing 
 every one's fear3, until it was quite a relief when the candles 
 were brought in. It was a sad evening — a painful half-holiday, 
 Nelly ; not a bit of supper was eaten ; Miss Priscilla did not 
 hold her usual tea-party ; and the only " new idea " discussed 
 — and that in corners, amongst ourselves — was the grand mys- 
 tery as to who this big-whiskered stranger could be ? About 
 
70 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 eight o'clock we flitted noiselessly up to bed, — not a board 
 creaked, and, instead of a set of noisy school-girls, you would 
 have taken us for a flight of ghosts gliding about a haunted 
 house. 
 
 As we passed the Lady Principal's private room, we held 
 our breaths. If we had been going through a churchyard, at 
 twelve o'clock at night, we could not have been more quiet, or 
 more frightened. We listened, but did not hear a sound, not 
 a groan. Meggy Sharpe tried to look through the key-hole, 
 but was pulled away by the German mistress, who seemed to 
 look upon it as something worse than a Chamber of Horrors. 
 
 That same night none of us slept. We talked softly — and 
 each girl vowed she would write home the next day, and tell 
 her parents of the shameful goings-on. We all agreed it was 
 scandalous, and the prospect of an immediate liberation from 
 the college made us secretly rejoice rather at what had occurred. 
 
 Meggy Sharpe got so restless at last, that she jumped out of 
 bed, and listened at the door. The foolish girl must have 
 caught her death of cold, for she stopped shivering there, 
 though kept warm by her curiosity and the counterpane she 
 had wrapped around her, for more than half an hour. All of 
 a sudden, she cried " Hush." The boudoir door had opened. 
 She hung over the banisters as far as she could, and there, 
 inside the room, she saw the same monster, lying at full length 
 with his muddy boots on the yellow damask sofa. He was 
 puffing a cigar, and in his hand he held a glass of what looked 
 very much like cold brandy-and-water. By this time all the 
 girls in our bed-room had jumped out of bed, and were peeping 
 over the bannisters as well. We saw the Lady Principal sitting 
 by this wretch's side — with her handkerchief up to her eyes — 
 and the tears running from her like water from a bathing- 
 woman. Miss Priscilla was there too, looking as white as a 
 pinafore, and spilling the lavender drops she was trying to mix 
 for her sister. There was not one amongst us, I am sure, but 
 who felt sincerely for their sufferings, for, whether it was with 
 
SOLUTION OF THE FRIGHTFUL MYSTERY. 71 
 
 the cold or the excitement, I know we all kept trembling and 
 shaking together, like I have seen the drops on a chandelier 
 during a delicious polka. 
 
 We listened, and, in broken bits, we heard him say, as he 
 alternately puffed and then said a few words, blowing them out 
 drawlingly like so much smoke, " Come, now, no nonsense, old 
 woman (the idea of calling the Lady Principal an 'old woman! f) 
 I've had a run of luck against me — I tell you I must have a 
 cool hundred — or else, by Jove — I'll send for my traps, and 
 stop here, till you haven't a young chick left out of your 
 whole brood," — and then he smoked like a chimney on 
 Christmas-Day. 
 
 What the above meant I did not half understand, but just at 
 the above point, his nasty, filthy tobacco-smoke got down my 
 throat and made me cough. The sound startled Miss Priscilla, 
 who, discovering the door was open, very quickly shut it. 
 
 The next morning he was gone before we were up, but on 
 the staircase I found a piece of pasteboard on which was 
 written " 50 to 1 against The Devil-amongst-the- Tailors." 
 Meggy says it is a betting-ticket. 
 
 Well now, Nelly, who do you think this mysterious monster 
 is ? I might give you ten thousand, and you would never guess 
 it. Why, dear, it was Mr. Bodwell ! no less a person than 
 Mrs. BodwelVs own husband ! who we all thought had been 
 killed in the Sikh campaign, and buried years ago in West- 
 minster Abbey. We found it out by his name being on the 
 above ticket. Lor ! how surprised I was when I heard it ; if 
 our handsome music-master had made me a proposal of mar- 
 riage, I could not have felt more startled. Imagine the Lady 
 Principal having a lord and master to rule her — she who rules 
 us all, isn't it strange ? I should as soon have thought of the 
 sun being split in two as her individuality being divided ! I can 
 no more conceive her proud majestic spirit being under the 
 command of another person, any more than I can conceive the 
 Queen of England being told by a policeman to "move on." 
 
72 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK S. 
 
 We have only seen the Lady Principal once since. Her 
 eyes were swollen, and she spoke meekly, as if she had just 
 risen from a "bed of sickness. She remitted several fines, and 
 kissed two or three of us before leaving the room. Poor 
 woman ! I pity her with all my heart. I'm sure it's wrong of 
 us to augment her sorrows, when she has so many of her own. 
 I, for one, will try all I can for the future to please her. 
 
 Susan has this moment run out to fetch the doctor. Dear 
 Mrs. Rodwell has been carried to bed in the most violent 
 hysterics. We all feel inclined to cry. Amy Darling has been 
 speaking to us in her usual kind manner, and says we must not 
 think of writing home a word about what has occurred. It's 
 to be a secret amongst ourselves, and we have all vowed to 
 keep it, and I am confident not a girl will break it. So, 
 dearest Nelly, you mustn't say a word about this to any one. 
 
 What do you think, Nelly — he's a gambler. It seems that 
 so long as he wins he does not bother Mrs. Rodwell much, but 
 as soon as he loses (and he's always losing) he comes and 
 bullies her, and will not leave the house till he's got the money 
 he wants. On one occasion when she hadn't any — she had 
 given him every farthing — he brought a party of six Polish 
 noblemen (so he called them) to the house, and said he wanted 
 to put them to school to have them properly " finished " (I'd 
 have soon finished them by scratching their eyes out) ; and on 
 another occasion, when she hadn't anything to give him, he 
 carried of all her jewels, and a beautiful silver teapot besides, 
 which we had given her on her birthday. Just as if we sub- 
 scribed our pocket-money to buy him presents ! Isn't it 
 enough, dear, to make you turn a nun when you hear of 
 such brutes of husbands as that ? — but mind, darling, mum, 
 not a word. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I have opened my letter, Nelly, dearest, as Twigg (who has 
 been my postmistress lately) has had the mumps, and Susan 
 has grown over-nice and particular, though I did offer her 
 
A STRANGE EXHIBITION OF JOY. 73 
 
 sixpence and a pair of my best gloves to slip this in the post 
 for me. 
 
 Fraulein has been making us all love her to-day. During 
 play-hours, she was requested to attend the Lady Principal in 
 'her " boudoir." We all thought it was for a reprimand — hut 
 no ! in two or three minutes she returned, her face crimson, 
 her eyes sparkling, and began dancing about the room, clap- 
 ping her hands all the while, and jabbering German till we 
 made sure the girl had gone crazy. As soon as she was tired 
 of this mad game, she snatched a little parcel from her bosom, 
 and smothered it in kisses, declaiming, laughing, and dancing 
 all at the same time. Then suddenly she undid the paper, and 
 spread out four sovereigns in a row, taking up them to kiss 
 fervently again and again, as if they were friends that were 
 going on a long journey. 
 
 Snapp, who had been looking on in dignified contempt, at 
 last burst out, " Really, Fraulein, I can no longer permit this 
 weak display of mercenary feelings. If you cannot command 
 your covetous exultation (Snapp is dearly fond of long words), 
 it would be more judicious of you to retire, so that your 
 example may not have an injurious effect on the disinterested 
 purity of youth." " Or," she continued, finding her words 
 quite unheeded, " if your parents are in such necessitous cir- 
 cumstances, I have no doubt the young ladies will subscribe 
 something for their relief, and I shall be happy to contribute 
 a trifle myself towards the charity. 11 
 
 These words fell like a blow upon Fraulein in the midst of 
 her joy. Feeling herself cruelly wounded, she flew at Snapp, 
 and talked German so fast, that we expected to see the teeth 
 flying out of her head every minute. How it might have ended, 
 I cannot say, if Mademoiselle and Blight had not interfered. 
 Fraulein allowed Blight to lead her quietly to the other end of 
 the room, where she fell into a chair, and began crying like a 
 child. We formed in a circle round her, and this is what we 
 learnt to be the cause of her joy and grief. 
 
74 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 It seems poor, good-natured Fraulein had been plodding, 
 fagging, and whipping our lazy brains for a period of two years, 
 and all for nothing ! Isn't it wretched ? Isn't it most cruel, 
 Nelly ? to pay (or rather not to pay at all) women at this rate ; 
 but it would appear it is the inevitable condition of the drudgery 
 of a poor governess's life ! Let us hope, dear girl, no reverse 
 in life will ever reduce us to the same hard fate ; though the 
 knowledge of the fact should teach us to treat the poor outcast 
 creatures with greater kindness, as I am certain we should all 
 have done, if we had only known it, in the instance of dear, 
 patient, good-humoured Fraulein. It is curious the amount of 
 suffering many souls can endure without complaining ! Imagine 
 this good German girl, away from home — away from all her 
 relations — without a friend, or companion in this country — sur- 
 rounded by little girls, whose greatest enjoyment is to tease 
 their schoolmistresses ; foregoing every pleasure, every relax- 
 ation, and even necessary wants ; and doing all this/or nothing ! 
 resigning herself to a voluntary torture of two years' pain and 
 monotony, and scarcely getting a kind word in return ! and 
 this, dear, is done heroically, without a murmur or a complaint 
 on her part ! or the fact of any one ever knowing it. Isn't it 
 surprising, Nelly ? and I look with wonder and admiration on 
 the brave souls who have the fortitude to do this. I hope you 
 are not laughing at me, Nelly, for being so prosy, but I cannot 
 help remarking, from my small experience in these matters, 
 that it is woman always that takes advantage of woman's help- 
 lessness. It is woman who makes the hard bargain, who is 
 the hard taskmaster, and the still harder paymaster. It is the 
 fault of ladies and schoolmistresses, that governesses are so 
 inhumanly under-paid ! This must not last, or else, really, we 
 shall forfeit all claim to being the softer sex. 
 
 To come back to our noble Fraulein. She had been slaving 
 without a single reproach escaping her lips for two long years, 
 and had not received one penny value of reward ; and when 
 she had that day received the first acknowledgment of her 
 
OUT OF LITTLE GIVING MUCH. 75 
 
 dearly-earned services — the miserable payment of her first term 
 — the joy had been too much for her. The possession of so much 
 money had turned her wild ! but it was not the wildness of any 
 selfish feeling, she had never intended keeping anything of it 
 to herself, she had made up her mind to send every farthing 
 of it home, as her first earnings, to her father and mother, as 
 a proof that their absent child still cherished a loving remem- 
 brance of their parental kindness ; and it was only the prospect 
 of this happiness, the conviction of the happiness it would be 
 to her parents when the little parcel fell like a blessing upon 
 them, that had sent her delirious for the moment, and over- 
 flooded her simple heart with joy. This the poor German girl 
 told us in broken English words ; and as our eyes all turned 
 in shame upon Snapp, the reproach was too much for her, and, 
 dropping her head, she slunk out of the room. 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 I open this letter a second time to say that we have a grand 
 concert and ball on Mrs. Rodwell's birth-day, and a supper 
 (sandwiches and negus) to follow. I must not stay to tell you 
 about it now, beyond asking you to call on Mamma and beg of 
 her to send my best evening dress. And mind, Nelly, you 
 come, or you never — never — never will be forgiven by 
 Your dearest friend 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 Do you think you could bring Sydney as your married 
 brother ? He could lower his hair down on both sides to hide 
 his want of whiskers. 
 
 I forgot to tell you / am married again ; only this time I 
 have taken precious good care to be the husband. My wifey is 
 a pretty, good-tempered, insipidity ; believes everything, works 
 well at her needle, and has a foot and hand the same size as 
 mine. We are exceedingly happy, and now I have discovered 
 the bright side of marriage, I never wish to be divorced again. 
 
 P.S. (Most Important). The following rule has just this 
 
76 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 moment been stuck up in the study, sentencing " Any young 
 lady, using improper adjectives, ejaculations, or vulgar exple- 
 tives, to pay a fine of five forfeits for each such inelegant 
 expression." This is to check what Snapp calls "ladies' pro- 
 fane language ; " or " female swearing ; " and so we are to be 
 denied the indulgence of an occasional " Bother ! " or the 
 luxury of relieving our feelings every now and then with an 
 explosive " Drat it ! " excepting by paying the above 
 outrageous tax. I should like to know where they think 
 we are to get all our money from? I am sure our parents 
 do not give us pocket-money sufficient to encourage these 
 extravagances ; but I will tell you all about this system of 
 fines in my next. 
 
 THE TWELFTH LETTEE LEET. 
 
 {Dated June the 2nd) 
 
 SHOWING VERY PLAINLY WHAT A TAX FORFEITS ARE, AND HOW 
 THEY ARE LEVIED; BESIDES SHOWING HOW YOUNG 
 LADIES ARE TAUGHT THE PROPRIETY OF HAVING A GOOD 
 CARRIAGE. 
 
 ON my word, these forfeits are no joke ! They are not 
 merely bad marks, or long lessons, or so many hundred 
 lines to be copied out, or learnt by heart ; but they are actual 
 fines in hard, very hard, money. Each forfeit is a halfpenny 
 a-piece. You will say, Nelly, that that is little enough ; but 
 when they fall down upon you five, or six, or as many as twelve 
 strong at a time, I can tell you that the blow is rather a heavy 
 one for a delicate purse. Mine has received so many blows of 
 the kind that it is perfectly exhausted. Every penny has been 
 fairly knocked out of it. All my pocket-money has been con- 
 sumed — all my cakes swallowed — all my sweetmeats melted 
 one by one, by this devouring system of forfeits ; and I believe 
 
FORFEITS, A LOSING GAME AT SCHOOL. 77 
 
 they would gobble up my clothes, bonnets, boots, everything I 
 have, if they only had a chance. 
 
 The system, I mean to say, Nelly, is altogether a bad one. 
 To begin, all punishments that are payable by money are bad 
 — at least so I have heard papa say when he has been reading 
 the police reports. Then, it teaches us to run into debt, for if 
 a girl has no more money, she is obliged to borrow some, as no 
 one is allowed to go home until all her forfeits are paid. 
 What her debts to her schoolfellows may be is quite another 
 thing ! Then, again, I maintain it is a cruel robbery, almost 
 worse than an income tax, upon us poor girls, for our parents 
 surely never intended when they gave us our pocket-money, 
 that it should find its way, every penny of it," into the school- 
 mistress's pocket ; and, lastly, it makes us suspect all manner 
 of wicked things of our Lady Principal, as we imagine that the 
 money forfeited all goes to her private use, and the girls really 
 believe that one half of her beautiful drawing-room ha* been 
 furnished in this way. Whenever a new bonnet comes home, it 
 is curious to hear the buzz of insinuations that instantly, like a 
 swarm of gnats, go flying round the school. Every girl believes 
 in her heart that she has been taxed for the payment of that 
 bonnet. A system, Nelly, which reduces a schoolmistress in 
 the estimation of her pupils, to the level of very little better 
 than a thief, cannot be a very good one ! 
 
 What makes these suppositions still stronger, is, that the 
 forfeits are levied for the smallest possible fault. If one of 
 your books is lying about ; if your hands are slightly dirty ; if 
 your dress is a little untidy : if you yawn, or gape, or smile, or 
 are guilty of any violation of the five-hundred rules that are 
 stuck up in the school-room, the forfeits immediately rain down 
 upon you in a heavy shower, and there is no place of shelter 
 that can save you. I have been bankrupt two or three times, 
 and am deeply in debt now, so when you come to see me, 
 Nelly, mind you bring plenty of money (ten shillings at least) 
 to help me out of my scrape, and I'll owe it you. 
 
78 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 Then, to increase our distress, there are " charities" also, 
 but I am afraid to touch upon this serious subject, lest you 
 should shake your pretty head, and declare that since I have 
 been at school, I have grown positively hard-hearted. No, 
 dearest Nelly, I hope I am as charitable as most girls. I 
 know I feel always ready to cry over any case of distress, and 
 long with all my heart to relieve it. I give what little I can 
 to the poor, and am pained when I refuse a beggar, for fear he 
 should not be the impostor I have condemned him in my own 
 mind to be ; but I do not understand the kind of " charity " 
 that is practised here. We have such numbers of " Distressed 
 Widows'* and " Destitute Orphans,' ! that we cannot help 
 doubting the reality of a few of them. Scarcely a week passes 
 without our having a " Broken Leg," or the school being 
 cleaned out with a " Disastrous Fire." Now, if we only could 
 see a " Widow," and give her the money ourselves, or take two 
 or three of the " Orphans V by the hand, and kiss the little 
 dears, I am sure we should feel much greater sympathy with 
 the cases in question, and should be charitable from real 
 feeling, instead of being as we are now, charitable only from 
 compulsion. We are always relieving, but never see any of the 
 objects we relieve, not even a " Broken Leg; " and so the 
 impression has become rooted in all the girls' minds that these 
 are all imaginary cases, got up expressly to teach us charity, in 
 the same way that unknown quantities are taken in equations, 
 to teach us algebra. Now if a real " Widow " was to come in 
 some day, and thank us in person for what we had done for her, 
 what a difference it would make ! what is now a task would 
 be instantly converted into & pleasure! 
 
 But I must tell you about Captain March. He is our drill- 
 ing master. He is not a real captain, you know, but is only 
 called so out of compliment. (Noble protests he's only a 
 sergeant, but then that's just like Noble, she'd make out Count 
 D'Orsay to have been no better than a barber's apprentice.) 
 He has a beautiful black moustache, and is more than six feet 
 
"RIGHT, LEFT — RIGHT, LEFT." 79 
 
 high, hut as stiff as a hack-hoard. His chest perhaps is a little 
 too large. It looks too much like a carpet-hag when it's as 
 full as it can hold — and Meggy Sharpe doesn't scruple to say 
 it is exactly in that predicament — hut then she is such a sati- 
 rical thing ! His coat is scarlet, and it fits, dear, as tight as a 
 pincushion. Of course he is married, or else he wouldn't he 
 admitted into the college. His wife, they say, is only three 
 feet high. 
 
 We have to wear a peculiar costume for drilling, not unlike 
 a Bloomer's. It is a short hrown-holland blouse, with a red 
 helt. Our trousers are of the same material, but rather short, 
 displaying our feet and ankles. We look so funny in it, and 
 you would laugh to see us. We are placed in rows, and made 
 to go through all imaginary steps and exercises, like so many 
 militiamen. We should make a famous regiment, I can tell 
 you, Nelly, and if the French should ever invade us, we are 
 ready to turn out to a man — I mean a woman — and defend our 
 good little Queen, and all her colonies and dominions. 
 
 Captain March has a voice like a cannon. I'm sure it must 
 be heard sometimes at Hyde Park Corner. He makes the 
 window-panes rattle as he bawls out, " Up — up with your 
 heads, young ladies. Throw your chests well out — more — more, 
 I say — in with the waist — hu-u-ulge your chests, ladies ! " And 
 he swells his own out to that extent, that you imagine it would 
 hurst all the buttons ! 
 
 Then we have to march quick and slow, the .captain walking 
 by our side, marking the time with a small bamboo-cane, 
 and crying out, " Right, left — right, left — keep time, pray 
 keep time, young ladies," (and then he shrieks out, as if he was 
 going mad) " Where ahe your chests, ladies ? Yes ; that's 
 better, now. Right, left — mark the cadence properly — right, 
 left," and so on for an entire hour. 
 
 It is glorious fun, Nelly ; only I don't like the captain to 
 pull me about. It tickles me so that I cannot help laughing, 
 and the consequence is I get fined. There are more forfeits 
 
80 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 during our drilling-lesson than any other class. The captain 
 pretends to be very angry, but I fancy at times I see him 
 smiling behind his thick moustache. With all his black looks, 
 he is very good-natured, and often persuades Blight (who 
 remains in the room all the while) to remit us one-half our fines. 
 
 But I must haste with my letter, dear, or else Madame 
 Duhauton will be here directly. She is our " Maitresse de 
 Maintien" and has on her cards, " Brevetse de toutes les 
 Gours de V Europe." She is as thin as continental-letter- 
 paper, but excessively elegant, with a waist scarcely larger 
 than a wedding-ring-. Yew mistresses in our school are 
 respected so much, or followed with so much attention as 
 Madame Palmyre Duhauton. Her lessons are most amusing, 
 instructing us how to balance the body, walk, curtsey, sit, 
 lounge, meet a friend, enter a carriage, mount on horseback, 
 get over a style, and be presented at court ! ! ! Her attitudes 
 alone are a perfect study of deportment. She sits as if an 
 artist was in the room ; she walks as though she were 
 performing before an audience. Every movement is studied. 
 She hands you the poker like a Tragedy Queen, and if she 
 brings you a cup of tea, it is done with the air of an injured 
 rival offering you a goblet of poison. But, in spite of all these 
 affectations, there is an abandon (it's her own word), an 
 elegant freedom about her that wins your admiration at once. 
 I believe if she were to meet a mad bull she would do it so 
 gracefully that the animal Would immediately draw in his 
 horns, and politely run away in another direction. 
 
 As for " the high walks of Society," which she is always 
 boasting of having moved in, none of us believe them any more 
 than that she is a Frenchwoman. The rumour is, that she is 
 the widow of an English officer who lived for a long time on 
 the Continent. Meggy Sharpe insists that her real name is 
 D. (Diana) Haughton, which, with the aid of a little French 
 polish, she has brightened gradually up into De Horton, De 
 Hauton, Duhauton. 
 
HOW TO RUN IN A SHOWER. 81 
 
 I will try to give you a notion of one of her lessons. 
 
 She enters the room with a swimming undulating move- 
 ment, murmurs softly a i( Bon jour, mes enfants," and begins 
 at once : " Now, my dear girls, your whole fate hangs upon 
 paying attention. How often am I to repeat you are to move 
 vos Ranches — your haunches — and non vos genoux — I mean 
 your kneeses ? Mademoiselle Plodder — ecoutez-moi, — was your 
 papa a canard ? or a Greenwich pensioner with two wooden 
 legs ? that you will hotter and waddle in that impossible frightful 
 maniere. Maintenant suivez-moi, walk like me/' and Madame 
 crosses the room backwards and forwards, in the most wavy, 
 dance-like style, to show us how a lady should walk. "Lai 
 Faites comme ga, and you will have no reason to rougir, not 
 even amongst la creme de la creme, at the very top of society. 
 ciel ! dear- me ! Miss Flower — arretez — what a meeting ! 
 Did you wish to offer the Monsieur your foot, or your hand ? 
 Great heavens, ladies ! what do you do with your heads ? 
 The gentlemen do not run comme des lapins or like cats and 
 dogs upon the floor. Allons, my dear children, les epaules en 
 arriere — la tete lien haute — Men haute. A young lady will 
 never get a husband, now-a-days, unless she holds her head 
 up. Les marriages, you know, are written in heaven, and so 
 you must look up there, and not on the carpet — U ny a pas de 
 maris a present sur le tapis." (Here Madame indulged in a 
 hearty laugh over her own wit — nothing boisterous — but a 
 fashionable titter that wouldn't wake a baby.) " Ah ! ca — 
 cest bcaucoup mieux. Now, in one minute, it will commence 
 to rain very hard, and you will have to run, for not one of you, 
 mind, has got a parapluie, or a parasol. There ! je vous 
 Vavais bien dit. Run, my dears, run — vite, plus vite — but 
 stop, Miss Clover " (and she caught hold of me) ; " you must 
 not pull up your dress so high, comme si vous alliez prendre 
 un bain de pieds." 
 
 We hurried through the shower again, and Madame was 
 pleased to say that I ran that time, " a merveille. 17 We then 
 
82 LETTEKS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 went through our sitting lesson, and you would have been 
 amused, dear, at the numberless directions that were given 
 how we were to sit on a chair, on a sofa, on a music-stool, at 
 the head of the table, in an open carriage, at the opera, and a 
 thousand other places. I always thought there was only one 
 way of sitting ; but I never was more mistaken in all my life. 
 Curtseys followed. " Merci, Miss Noble, merci, 11 (exclaimed 
 our little French-Englishwoman,) " that curtsey was perfection. 
 It would have been an honour to the Court du Grand 
 Monarque. It was digne d'une Heine. Continuez comme ga, 
 ma chere, and your success is certain. Je vous predis un 
 settlement in the highest ranks. Mademoiselle Wylde ! " (she 
 continued) "what do you go for up and down in that way ? 
 that is churning — not curtseying. Doucement, my dear, I 
 do not ask you to make butter ;" and she made us all laugh 
 by imitating Lucy's quick movements. 
 
 The carriage (an old sofa put upon wheels) was next driven 
 into the middle of the room, and we were taught how to step 
 into it in the most elegant manner. / made a sad mess of 
 it, Nelly ; and Madame Palmyre was so angry that she went 
 so far as to declare that "no man of taste or pretensions 
 would ever think of uniting his destinies to one so shamefully 
 uneducated in the first steps — (did she mean the carriage- 
 steps ?) — of High Life." After this harangue, in which the 
 French accent had been accidentally omitted, I was dismissed 
 in disgrace. 
 
 The crowning part of the lesson was the presentation at 
 Court. Madame seated herself on a raised ottoman, which 
 did duty for a throne. The girls retired to a little closet in 
 the corner, from which they emerged in their full Court 
 costume. This consisted of an old window-curtain for the 
 train, and a beautiful group of cut silver-paper feathers for 
 the plumes ; and I thought to myself what a capital dress it 
 will make when we play at "acting charades. 11 
 
 " Bien gracieusement et modestement rendu, Miss Peacock, " 
 
AN OTTOMAN LEVEE. 83 
 
 exclaimed Madame, in a half-majestic tone, from her royal 
 ottoman. " Ma charmante jeune Miss, votre beaute d'une 
 ange et votre tournure oVune Duchesse seront un de ces 
 jours bien appreciees. Ah! Miss Smiffel ! — (and here her 
 Majesty rose in the greatest indignation) — Are you mad, or 
 only foolish ? Never dare to kiss my hand again until after 
 you have wiped your mouth. I don't know what you have 
 been eating, but it looks uncommonly like gooseberry jam ! ! ! " 
 (True enough, there was a large jar, belonging to the Suetts, 
 in the closet, and Smiffel had helped herself rather liberally — 
 robing and robbing at the same time.) " Learn, ladies, that 
 only a very slight pressure of the lips is permitted. Now, Ada 
 Steele, what are you afraid of ? Her Majesty is not going to 
 slap your face that you should look so alarmed to kiss her 
 hand. Well, Miss St. Ledger, am I to repeat again and again 
 that I will not have you come rolling up to the steps of my 
 throne like a cricket-ball ? Pray learn to moderate your 
 bounding enthusiasm. But good heavens ! girl, your feather 
 has touched my face. Ill-bred creature ! Would you presume 
 to tickle her Majesty's nose with your Court Plume ? But I 
 absolve myself from all responsibility of your future destinies. 
 With such innate vulgarity, it's preposterous to suppose you 
 ever can or will be married ! I " 
 
 With this extraordinary speech from the throne, Madame 
 descended the footstools which had been arranged as a flight of 
 steps. What struck me most during the delivery was, the 
 perfect Queen's English — for une native de Paris, especially — • 
 in which it was spoken ; but, as it was the Queen, and not 
 Madame in her own person, who was speaking, it may, 
 perhaps, account for the extraordinary phenomenon and the 
 fidelity of the representation. < Nature only sacrificed herself 
 to truth. However, with the loss of her foreign royalty, she 
 soon recovered the use of her native tongue, and, smiling a 
 Frenchwoman's smile, she said to Noble, " Ayez la bonte, 
 ma chere, de prendre ma place." She then showed us how 
 
 g2 
 
84 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK S. 
 
 the Queen was to be respectfully approached, how her hand 
 was to be gently kissed, and how the debutante was to 
 carefully withdraw, without being incommoded with, or falling 
 over her train. With this last performance, which, I must 
 say, Nelly, was admirably done, the Levee was at an end. . 
 
 I had nearly forgotten to tell you that, during the above 
 ceremony, Noble and Peacock wore their own feathers and 
 their own trains. Their pride couldn't think of being 
 dragged about the floor in connection with an old window- 
 curtain ! 
 
 Good-bye, Nelly ; and don't forget to bring the money, if 
 you wish to save from bankruptcy and shame, 
 
 Your devoted, but penniless, friend, 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. Last night was the first Friday in the month, and a 
 full moon ! so we resolved upon trying our luck when we 
 went to bed. Accordingly, we made all haste in undressing, 
 and put the candles out very quickly. We then placed 
 ourselves in a row, with the moonbeams full in our faces ; 
 after which, upon a given signal from Wylde, we repeated 
 slowly the following words : — 
 
 " Upon this month's lucky Friday, 
 Beneath the moonbeam's magic ray, 
 Stepping backwards into my bed, 
 I pray, benevolent St. John, 
 To show in nightly vision, 
 The husband I on earth shall wed." 
 
 These were delivered as solemnly as possible : as soon as 
 they were over, without uttering another sound, we walked 
 backwards into bed, keeping our faces turned all the time to 
 the moon, and so dropped off to sleep. 
 
 If any one speaks, they say the charm is broken. It is 
 confidently reported (Susan told us so, and she had it from a 
 
ALL MOONSHINE ! 85 
 
 gipsey) that it is sure to succeed if repeated precisely as the 
 clock strikes twelve, finishing the last word with the last 
 stroke ; but we were afraid of oversleeping ourselves, or that 
 some of the younger girls might grow frightened, or that the 
 moonbeams might not shine, so we wisely preferred saying it 
 beforehand. If you tell your dream, you will never be 
 married ; but as I never dreamt of any one (not even of 
 Sydney, much to my disappointment), there is no great fear 
 of my dying an old maid on that score at least. It is a 
 thousand pities, Nelly, that the chances are so many against 
 the above charm succeeding. It has often been tried here, 
 but some girl has always spoken, or shrieked by falling against 
 something and hurting herself in walking backwards. The 
 greatest difficulty, however, is in preventing the girls talking ; 
 but we two will try it some night, Nell, only we must promise 
 not to tell each other our dreams! The penalty would be 
 too awful ! ! 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH LETTER LEFT. 
 
 (Dated June 9.) 
 SHOWING HOW FOOLISH IT IS TO PLAY PKACTICAL JOKES. 
 
 THAT Lizzy Spree is as full of tricks as a Pantomime ! She 
 is quite a spoilt child in the way of mischief. She has been 
 allowed so many indulgences that she imagines she may empty 
 powder-boxes into bonnets, and place detonating-balls under 
 chairs, just as she pleases. She's a sad torment. It's not 
 safe to leave the snuffers even with her. She's sure to fill 
 them with scraped slate-pencil, or else gunpowder. It's my 
 belief she always carries a stock of the latter in her pocket, so 
 as never to lose an opportunity of making us all jump out of 
 our skins. It's like a constant succession of postmen's knocks 
 
86 LETTEKS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 to be with her, you are leaping up every minute until you hardly 
 know whether your heart is in your mouth or not. Her last 
 trick was to fill Professor Drudge's snuff-box with Cayenne 
 pepper. I'm sure the old gentleman sneezed to that extent 
 that we had to stuff our pocket-handkerchiefs into our mouths, 
 to prevent ourselves dying of laughing ; but that wasn't so bad 
 as her rubbing a lot of cobbler's wax inside old Miss Penelope's 
 chapeau de dimanche, so that when she pulled it off, cap and 
 wig came off with it, and exposed to view the funniest little 
 bald head you ever saw ! 
 
 However her love of mischief has brought her into trouble. 
 I don't suppose Lizzy, with her kind heart, would intentionally 
 hurt any one, but she has been terribly punished for her habit 
 (and I think it's a very silly habit) of practical joking. 
 
 We were all in the garden, trying to knock down with our 
 skipping ropes the little hard unripe pears, when up runs Spree 
 to Owen, quite out of breath, and begins screaming — " Mary, 
 Mary, dear, there's such a fine, military gentleman, asking for 
 you in the parlour. Make haste ! It is your Father ! ! ! " 
 
 Scarcely were the words uttered, than off darted Owen with 
 all her speed, looking so wild, and followed by Darling, and 
 a whole string of girls — Spree amongst us vainly trying 
 to call us back. I got to the parlour-door, only just in time to 
 see Owen fall senseless into the arms of — what a wicked, wicked 
 shame ! — of Strong, the shoemaker ! who had come to measure 
 us for our winter boots. 
 
 You cannot imagine the painful scene that followed. There 
 was Darling, screaming over poor Mary, who was lying appa- 
 rently lifeless on the floor. There was Blight rubbing her 
 temples and hands with Eau de Cologne. There was Spree 
 crying, the Lady Principal scolding ; and the whole College 
 mounted on tables and chairs, crowding round, all of us moved 
 to tears by the agonising result before us of the cruel joke. We 
 all thought she was killed. No one (except Mrs. Rodwell) had 
 the courage to reproach Spree. Her own suffering was suffi- 
 
THE RESULT OF A PRACTICAL JOKE. 87 
 
 cient punishment. She accused herself of being the cause of 
 Mary's death ; of having murdered her by her unfeeling levity ; 
 and went and knelt down by the side of the poor sufferer, 
 begging, crying piteously, for forgiveness. 
 
 Mary, at last, began to revive. She slowly opened her eyes ; 
 but, oh, Nelly ! there was such intense despair in the wild, 
 enquiring look she cast round the room ! there was such 
 anguish in the groan that escaped from her white lips, that 
 I almost regretted she had ever recovered to return to her life 
 of suffering again ! 
 
 For many days, Mary Owen seemed unconscious, as if the 
 heavy blow had stunned mind and feeling. She permitted 
 Amy's caresses ; and at times would play with Lizzy's hair, 
 and wipe her tears away, when the unhappy girl came to her 
 bedside, and began reproaching herself for having laid her 
 there. She got better after a time ; but when she came down, 
 it was like one walking in her sleep. We all moved away for 
 fear of waking her. Her spirit seemed gone, as if it had been 
 startled away from her gentle bosom (for she never did harm to 
 any body), when the only hope that nestled there had been 
 so cruelly made to fly away. We all felt that she could not 
 long remain with us. I imagined that the finger of Death had 
 already touched those vacant eyes, and left its chill upon those 
 bloodless lips. The school grew silent. It couldn't have been 
 quieter in holiday-time. Our only amusement seemed to be in 
 paying attention to poor Mary, and hers was the greatest 
 pleasure who succeeded in paying her the most. The Lady 
 Principal, even, generally so stern, was touched by her uncom- 
 plaining agony. She grew kind and considerate, grasping hold 
 of every little opportunity to soothe her with a mother's care. 
 Dr. Healy shook his head. " The case,'* he said, " was 
 beyond the skill of medicine." This opinion fell like a frost 
 upon our hopes, and we watched with a sympathy that grew 
 greater every day, the silent grief that was consuming a fond 
 heart, that really seemed dying for the want of an object to love. 
 
88 LETTEES LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, the seniors were allowed to sit in the 
 little drawing-room with Owen. She was lying on the sofa, 
 wrapt round with shawls, more dreaming than awake, exhausted 
 by long pain, and perfectly insensible to our efforts to amuse 
 her. Amy had just been reading to her some poetry, in a voice 
 that seemed to speak from Heaven — so sweet and pure, was it, 
 Nelly, — when Mrs. Rodwell entered looking pale and excited. 
 She drew a seat near Mary, and, taking her hand, began in a 
 softened voice to speak about the comforts of religion. We all 
 bent our heads, and listened. She said, dear, more beautiful 
 things than I can ever think of repeating, and said them so 
 impressively, that my heart felt being gradually drawn towards 
 hers, and as if it would melt into tears. We scarcely knew 
 the object of this exhortation — but a cold horror crept over us 
 — could Mary he dying ? Had the Lady Principal come to 
 prepare her for death ? — to comfort her last thoughts ? — and to 
 atone with a few last moments of kindness for the little that 
 Mary had ever received from her hands ? But the words of truth, 
 as they came forth like light, dispelled all these dark suspicions. 
 Little by little — and gradually — like a stubborn heart's repen- 
 tance — the sense changed its sadness ; it broke like a beautiful 
 dawn into peace — peace brightened with a thousand rays into 
 hope ; and hope filled us with a celestial joy that made us love 
 all things. I was no longer a school-girl, Nelly, full of pride, 
 and folly, and vanity ; but something much better. I felt 
 strong enough for anything, and longed to go forth and do 
 good, and comfort poor creatures, as our good schoolmistress 
 was then intent upon doing ; and I inwardly resolved I would 
 no longer think harshly of her, or of any one, as my soul 
 accused me of having too often done ! 
 
 We listened and listened, purified and strengthened with the 
 supporting words, and, after a while, the cheering tones of 
 happiness stole, like the beautiful summer air, over poor 
 Owen's drooping spirit, and instilled fresh life into it. A 
 look of gratitude shone from her loving eyes upon the speaker, 
 
A JOKE TURNED INTO A TRUTH. 89 
 
 and showed how sensible she yet was to kindness ; but beyond this 
 all efforts to revive her failed. No tenderness would heal the 
 mortally-wounded heart ! The love had come too late — the 
 nourishment had arrived when there was nothing to nourish ! 
 
 Mrs. Rodwell ceased speaking. She saw the power of 
 listening had gone. Rising softly, she beckoned Amy out of 
 the room, and they left noiselessly together. After a few 
 moments' absence, Amy returned, her face flushed, and full 
 of burning secrets. Quietly motioning us away, she fell on her 
 knees by the side of the sofa, and, in a voice that flowed with 
 tears, began telling Owen one of the simple little tales that 
 used to be her favourite enjoyment to listen to. It was all 
 about foreign lands — about a wanderer far from home — separated 
 from his only child — longing to embrace his darling daughter, 
 — but still kept in exile by the cruel necessity of a soldier's life. 
 At last the anxious father sends a bosom friend as a messenger 
 of joy to his darling one ; and then Amy, trembling with 
 emotion, twining her arms as in a love- wreath round Owen's 
 neck, and frightened to death — of which her face was the 
 living picture — about the result of her intelligence, and, 
 cautiously as a mother moves her sleeping infant, told Owen 
 that news had arrived from her father " that he lived, and had 
 sent a friend freighted with the treasures of his love, who was 
 waiting outside to deliver his trust." 
 
 At first we thought Mary had not understood, and Amy 
 repeated more positively the fact. Then silently caressing her 
 friend's agitated face, Owen sorrowfully shook her head, inca- 
 pable of belief ; but upon Amy's insisting upon the truth, and 
 assuring her repeatedly (and each assurance was sealed with a 
 kiss) that u she would not deceive her for the world," tears 
 slowly overflowed her pale cheeks, and she sighed sorrowfully ; 
 but not a word escaped her lips. Amy at last, almost despairing 
 to revive hopes, that had once been so heartlessly cheated, 
 asked Owen " if she thought she felt strong enough to see her 
 father's friend ? " There was no reply to this question — not 
 
90 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. . 
 
 the slightest sign of intelligence — but a fixed statue-like 
 expression came over the bewildered girl, and she remained 
 immoveable like the reclining figures I have seen on the tombs 
 in cathedrals ; all other efforts failed to re-animate her. 
 
 When she had closed her eyes, Amy left the room. She 
 returned the next moment, leading by the hand a middle-aged 
 gentleman, with beautiful silver- white hair. Upon his entrance, 
 Owen seemed convulsed. She fixed her eyes so upon him 
 that I grew frightened. She then rubbed them as though to 
 satisfy herself whether she was dreaming — and stared again, 
 as if she couldn't believe her eyesight. She then pressed 
 her hands upon her forehead — her mouth opened widely — her 
 whole frame heaved and trembled with excess of feeling ; and, 
 rising slowly from her couch, she would have fallen to the 
 ground, if her father had not been happily by her side to receive 
 her in his arms. 
 
 And there we left them, Nelly, the pale, corpse-like head 
 resting peacefully on the bosom so long and hopelessly desired ! 
 
 They have been together ever since. Mary was dangerously 
 ill, but her father's tenderness and the hand of Mercy have 
 lifted her off a bed of sickness. Each day, happiness (that 
 joyful artist to whom so few of us sit for our portraits) 
 colours her cheeks with an additional touch of beauty, her eyes 
 begin to sparkle and to speak — and her lips surprise themselves 
 sometimes with a smile, and, I have no doubt, when sufficiently 
 tutored, will be advanced into the higher class of laughter. 
 And this has all been done under the tuition of Love, the best 
 mistress after all, Nelly, when we wish to improve by learning 
 things by heart. So rapid, too, is Mary's progress under his 
 scholarship, that I shouldn't wonder if she is the prettiest girl in 
 the school yet. 
 
 Colonel Owen never leaves his daughter's side. He seems 
 never to tire of patting and fondling his darling, or of rejoicing 
 with Amy, or thanking the Lady Principal in terms of 
 unbounded gratitude " for her motherly care and tenderness to 
 
THE LUXURY OF FORGIVENESS. 91 
 
 his lonely child." Poor father ! if he only knew all — but he never 
 will be told of his daughter's many years of suffering. The 
 reward of injury is the luxury of forgiveness, and Mary, who has 
 well earned the reward, seems to revel in the luxury as a thing 
 too sweet to be parted with. Besides, I doubt if all recollection 
 of former slights has not been completely rubbed out, like a 
 sum on a slate, of her forgiving mind. The affectionate tend- 
 ing of the last few days is alone remembered. She is too 
 gratefully happy for even a memory of sorrow. Her heart, 
 dear, is so replete with love, it can exclude none from its 
 embrace, not even its enemies. 
 
 As for Amy, she and Mary are like too sisters (without the 
 jealousy). She has told her father of her beloved friend's 
 untiring life of kindness to her and to all who are in want of 
 it. The Colonel loves her almost like a second daughter, and 
 makes her presents till she doesn't know how to accept them, 
 or how to refuse them. The last one was a gold heart, with 
 the name of " Mary " engraved on it, and inside a bit of 
 Mary's hair, that was cut off in the fever during which Amy 
 nursed her night and day. They are to pass the holidays 
 together. 
 
 Oh ! I nearly forgot to tell you that they went to the 
 Opera on Tuesday night, and took Lizzy Spree with them. 
 The foolish girl made her eyes quite red with crying. The 
 Colonel knows nothing about the cause of Mary's illness. 
 
 There, Nelly ; the above subject has so engrossed all my 
 thoughts and paper, that I have only just spare time left — 
 (class bell's ringing) — to sign myself 
 
 Your dearest, dearest friend, 
 
 Kitty. 
 
92 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH LETTEE LEET. 
 
 {The smallest possible size of a Lady's note.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW A YOUNG LADY CAN LEAVE OUT THE MOST 
 IMPORTANT PART OF HER LETTER. 
 
 DEAREST NELLY,— I was nearly leaving out the Post- 
 script of my last letter. How extremely foolish ! I 
 now send it to you. 
 
 Poor little Twigg is in disgrace. The pianoforte-tuner has 
 made her an offer of marriage, and the Lady Principal not only 
 won't let her accept it, but says she ought to be ashamed of 
 herself — indulging in such good-for-nothing fancies, and setting- 
 such a bad example to the young ladies of the establishment. 
 Twigg carries his portrait in her huswife, amongst all the 
 pins and needles. I cannot say whether he is good-looking, 
 because she has cried over it to that extent that the colour 
 has been completely washed all over his face, and purple 
 eyes and blue whiskers do not exactly give him the most pre- 
 possessing appearance. She says her heart is broken, and, as 
 far as one can judge, she eats nothing. She seems to live only 
 upon tears. She declares her hopes are blighted, and doesn't 
 mind how soon she dies. We pity Twigg ; and many are the 
 consolations which are given her by girls who say they have 
 suffered as great, if not greater hardships — and how they 
 ever survived it was a miracle ! but, considering how fat 
 some of them look now, their grief seems to have agreed 
 with them remarkably well. In fact, Miss Isabella's crying 
 has given quite a tone of sentiment to the school, and some 
 of the sighs you hear would turn a windmill. The struggle with 
 each girl seems to recollect the period when she was most 
 
WHO SHALL BE THE MOST MISERABLE? 93 
 
 miserable, and if she can only prove that she has known 
 more misery than anyone else, then she is supremely happy. 
 I cannot tell you how tired I am of this wishy-washy stuff. 
 I have no patience with martyrs of fourteen, who wish to go 
 into a convent, and pray for the tomb to open and receive 
 them ; when, if an invitation to a ball came, they would be 
 clapping their hands with joy, and soon be lost in a long 
 debate as to what dress they should wear. I declare there 
 have fallen so many showers of tears .lately that the school 
 feels quite damp. Fraulein is the w^orst. She would be 
 invaluable to a gardener ; for I am sure she cannot weep less 
 than a watering-potfull at a time. Her sentiment, too, makes 
 you so melancholy that I am sure it is not safe to leave so 
 many bodkins about. I wish to gracious ! the Lady Principal 
 would let Twigg marry, for all the girls have so completely 
 made her injuries their own, that it is nothing but a flutter of 
 pocket-handkerchiefs all day long. What can they know of 
 suffering, Nelly, in comparison with me ? and I am sure one 
 look from Sydney, when he goes by on the top of an omnibus, 
 is worth all their pianoforte-tuners in the world ! 
 
 If Twigg wasn't such a favourite, there wouldn't be so much 
 fuss made about her. She is the junior governess, and some 
 day is to inherit Mrs. Rodwell's black velvet mantle. She has 
 never been away from the Princess* College, and doesn't know 
 what holidays are. The whole world is only a big school to her ! 
 The consequence is, she is a great overgrown bread-and-butter 
 school-girl, though she's thirty-two years old, if she's a day. 
 They say she was pretty once ; but for the life of me I cannot 
 see her beauty. She is so conceited — so stuck-up, prim, and 
 affected, always showing off to the masters, and flirting with 
 Herr Hullabullutzer. She is so much in love with herself, 
 that I wonder she ever found any to spare for the poor piano- 
 forte tuner (who by the way, has been ordered never to come 
 into the house again). We do just what we like with Twigg, 
 by flattering her. Even the little girls coax her over by telling 
 
94 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 her what pretty hair she has, or asking to feel the softness of 
 her hand. By these means they get excused many a forfeit, 
 and let off many a hard task. 
 
 No wonder she has got such a soft hand, or that it is so white, 
 when the story goes that she sleeps in gloves, and that she is 
 always washing it with pate d'amandes. No wonder either 
 that her ringlets are so glossy, when she spends one half her 
 income in cosmetics and Circassian creams ; and is twisting and 
 twirling them round her fingers all the time she is not eating ! 
 
 It's a world of pity she is so weak, for really, Nelly, she is 
 very good-natured — and clever in her little way — and quite 
 grateful if we only admire her. I think we are often tempted 
 to praise her more than we otherwise should, on account of 
 the great pleasure it gives her. If we only ask to dress her 
 hair, she is as pleased as if she was going to the play. Besides 
 I don't know what we should do without Twigg, for she buys our 
 goodies, gets whatever we want in town, and posts our letters 
 (many a one has she posted for you, Nelly ! ) On the other hand, 
 we tell her all manner of stories about our brothers, how they 
 admired her at the last concert ; and invent love messages from 
 our cousins. They are every one of them stricken with her. She 
 takes in every word, and goes to sleep with her head as full of 
 dreams as of curl-papers. If anything very particular is 
 wanted — a supper, for instance, on a large scale — Twigg will 
 procure us the pork pies, the peppermint, tarts, and all, if we 
 only promise to write home about her, and invite her in the 
 holidays. In this way, I believe, the poor girl has got ten 
 invitations for next holidays — and, in her simple soul, believes 
 she will go to every one of them. Her conceit plays all sorts 
 of tricks with her. She is continually fancying gentlemen are 
 looking at her, and falling in love at first sight. She carries 
 a locket with a hair chain in her bosom. Whenever her aunt 
 scolds her, she takes out this locket, and begins crying. By 
 this we suspect that it is the souvenir of some early disappoint- 
 ment — long before the piano-forte tuner — perhaps the dancing- 
 
CONNECTION BETWEEN MISERY AND MUSIC. 95 
 
 master ? But with all her curious old school-girlish ways, we 
 cannot help pitying Twigg. Her greatest fault is her vanity. 
 It is the sun round which her nature revolves. Place her in 
 the desert with a looking-glass, and she would be as happy as a 
 woman in a bonnet-shop. 
 
 I must now run away to our singing-mistress, Signora 
 Preciosa-Nini — a real Neapolitan, though it puzzles me to 
 understand how " crater " can be the Italian pronunciation of 
 " creature.' ' She teaches us effect, and she was to have 
 come out at San Carlo, only she lost her stage voice at the 
 very time that Rossini had prophesied she would be the 
 first Prima Donna in the world. It was grief that did it! 
 On my word, the world seems to be full of nothing but grief ; 
 only it's rather profitable to the Signora. She works it into 
 all her songs, and sells them at the rate of two shillings a 
 copy. Such miserable subjects, Nelly ; everyone is dis- 
 appointed, or driven to despair, or dying in them. I think if 
 the world grew virtuous, and there were no more hearts 
 broken, the music-sellers would have to shut-up shop. 
 
 There was such a knocking at the door last night. It 
 lasted for at least a quarter of an hour. The belief is that it 
 was Mrs. Rod well's husband come back to ash for some more 
 money. The wretch I 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH LETTER LEFT. 
 
 (Dated June 15th.) 
 
 SHOWING HOW A LONG PURSE IS SOMETIMES NEEDED AT SCHOOL 
 TO MAKE IT " THE HAPPIEST TIME OF OUR LIVES." 
 
 I SHOULD have written before, dearest Eleanor, if I had not 
 been reduced to poverty. I have actually been incapable of 
 paying Susan's postage fee. There is not a Queen's-head even 
 left in my purse. Almost everythiug has been cleared out of 
 
96 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 the pretty workbox that dear Fanny Jackson gave me before 
 she went away to the North, and I have scarcely anything left to 
 raise a loan with. But, worse than all, I am 2s. 4|d. in debt ! 
 
 It was cruel of you, Nelly, not to have sent me some money. 
 I wouldn't have asked you, dear, unless I really wanted it ; for 
 what with forfeits, mistresses 7 birthdays, charity, and our 
 system of "mothers," it is nothing but pay, pay, pay, all 
 day long. 
 
 You mustn't start, Nell, if I tell you that I am a " mother,' 7 
 and I can assure you I find it anything but agreeable. All the 
 elder girls are supposed to be " mothers ;" that is to say, two 
 or three tiresome little plagues are placed under their care, 
 and they are responsible for their clean faces, tidy clothes, and 
 good behaviour. This system is established, as Miss Priscilla 
 observes, in order that " the heart and affections may be culti- 
 vated with the mind, and woman fitted for the sphere of love 
 she is born to adorn." It rather unfits me than otherwise, for 
 I can assure you it is as much as I can do to attend to myself, 
 without having a family to look after. When I was married to 
 Bharpe, I had her children to nurse, and wash, and scrub as 
 well, so that I was the " mother" of four children, and I am 
 afraid to tell you what a deal of anxiety they cost me, — to say 
 nothing of the forfeits I was continually paying for them. I 
 find education is a very expensive thing, Nelly, and my worries 
 have certainly had one good effect ; they have taught me to he 
 more grateful for the education I am myself receiving. 
 
 Sharpe's children were much more unruly than my own. 
 They were always in trouble, and do what I would, I couldn't 
 keep their hands clean. I was constantly getting fined, 
 because they would leave their books about the house, or because 
 their hair was rough, or because the little things would persist 
 in biting their nails. I half suspect Miss Meggy Sharpe taught 
 them many faults, in order that I might get punished for the 
 correction of them. At the time I was trying all I could to 
 get a divorce from her, I know she left nothing undone to spite 
 
DREADFUL ROBBERY OF BREAD AND BUTTER. 97 
 
 me, and it is my firm belief it was she who directed them to 
 steal the thin bread and butter, the more especially as she ate it 
 all herself. I was taking my music lesson at the time, and the 
 little plagues were planted on the staircase, where they waylaid 
 Susan as she was carrying the tea-tray up to the drawing-room, 
 and emptied all the plates. This they did not once, but 
 actually twice. Susan was scolded, she cried, and told the 
 truth. The young things were sent for, and I was ready, 
 dear, to drop through the floor when I heard those wicked little 
 Peppercorns tell the Lady Principal, " It warrit their faults , 
 their mother had made them do it." Oh, Nelly, I protested I 
 knew nothing about it, that I wasn't fond of bread and butter ; 
 it was all to no purpose — the impudent young story-tellers 
 were believed in preference to me, and I was fined fifty forfeits , 
 besides being sentenced to a week's "silence." Of course, 
 when I went into the school-room I had it out instantly with 
 Meggy Sharpe, but she only laughed at me, and my week's 
 punishment was increased to two, for having dared to break 
 through the rules so soon. My troubles were not yet over, for 
 what did the malicious creature do, but she assembled the 
 senior girls round me, and began telling them such great big 
 stories about my engagement to Sydney, revealing all I had 
 foolishly confided to her honour, and adding considerably to it. 
 She then completed her cruelty by reading out aloud to them 
 Sydney's last beautiful letter, making fun of every sweet 
 expression and turning all its tender vows of love into ridicule. 
 Each word went like a pair of scissors into my heart ; but 
 much as I suffered, I daren't say a word, for if I had given vent 
 to my indignation, the first syllable would have cost me probably 
 an additional week of "silence." Miss Margaret knew this 
 well enough, and gloried in her revenge for my having ever 
 left her. She i3 cleverer than I am, Nelly, but only turns her 
 cleverness into acta of cruelty. I did not envy the meanness 
 of her triumph, though I cried my eyes out with vexation, 
 until Amy, who is the guardian angel of everybody, not only 
 
98 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 put a stop to the fun, but even got me Sydney's dear letter 
 back again. I consoled myself by reading it over several times 
 to myself. 
 
 Yesterday I was let off the remainder of my severe 
 punishment. In the same afternoon, Miss Priscilla addressed 
 us in a neat speech, reminding us that " our esteemed pre- 
 ceptress' natal day was fast approaching, when she knew our 
 affectionate hearts would only be too desirous to present 
 some trifling offering as a loving memento of our grateful 
 respect.'' All the school was unanimous in this proposition, 
 and Noble was appealed to, as head-monitress, for her opinion 
 about what would be the most acceptable gift. A workbox, a 
 desk, an inkstand, a dressing-case was each in its turn 
 proposed, but all of them rejected, as having been accepted 
 on previous birthdays. Then the modest Priscilla came 
 generously to our aid. " She knew our beloved instructress 
 had long desired a timepiece to decorate the mantelpiece of 
 her "boudoir, and by a strange coincidence, as felicitous as it 
 was fortuitous, she had recently expressed much admiration for 
 one seen in Regent-street ; " but Priscilla kindly feared the 
 price would exceed our wishes, prodigal as she knew they 
 were. Although no one appreciated better than herself the 
 affectionate attachment which bound the entire College in ties 
 of motherly love to her sister, still she could not permit any 
 giddy extravagance, the more especially as Mrs. Rodwell 
 would value the simplest offering as highly as the richest 
 gift. As a friend, therefore, she would request us frankly to 
 say if we could afford nine guineas : — for such was the price 
 of the desired clock." Again was the school unanimous, and 
 Noble undertook to say, " we could easily manage it." 
 
 A small committee was then formed ; Noble was elected to 
 the honourable post of banker, and Priscilla headed the list 
 with a donation of half-a-guinea, " begging, however, that it 
 might not be taken as any intention of what the subscriptions 
 should be." I had already emptied my purse on a collection 
 
SENDING EOUND THE BEGGING-BOX. 99 
 
 the week before, and if it had not been for Amy, who lent me 
 five shillings, I shouldn't have been able to subscribe the 
 additional sum that was wanted on this occasion. I should like 
 to have put down a great deal more, to give pleasure to our Lady 
 Principal, who, after all, has a number of good qualities, and 
 who has greatly endeared herself to our affections by her 
 recent kindness to Mary Owen, I have no doubt I should like 
 her very much, if she wasn't our schoolmistress, but somehow 
 that fact does freeze the fountain of one's love a little bit ! 
 
 We had hard work to accumulate the nine guineas — for 
 some girls are more stingy than others ; and it is not always 
 the richest who are the most liberal. I must say, it pained 
 me to witness the numerous coaxings, and threats, and petty 
 artifices that were called into requisition to induce the little 
 girls to part with their shillings and sixpences ; but what 
 grieved me most was to see the begging-box — (it is a hard 
 term, Nelly, but really it was very little better) — being carried 
 round to the poor schoolmistresses, and their being compelled 
 to give — for, if any one of them had refused or complained, it 
 would have been as much as her situation was worth. In this 
 way I saw Blight put down half-a-sovereign, which seemed to 
 be all she had in her purse ; and little Fraulein, too, had to 
 change one of the golden treasures she had put aside to send 
 to her parents in order to pay her subscription. Surely, it is 
 not right to make the small pittance they receive even smaller 
 by asking them to contribute to these forced compliments. 
 
 At last, the necessary sum was scraped together, and a 
 deputation of happy girls — guarded by Snapp (our Snap- 
 Dragon, as we call her) — started one fine morning, and 
 brought back the beautiful clock (an ormolu figure of Minerva 
 seated on the world, teaching a fat little Cupid in bronze his 
 celestial globe) — and we had, besides, an ice and a bun apiece 
 at Farrance's. Then begun the mysterious preparations. 
 Snapp wrote the speech, and little Minnie Campbell, who is 
 the youngest girl in the school, learnt it, but not until she 
 
 h 2 
 
100 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 had been scolded by Snapp to that degree that when the little 
 thing was taken up before Mrs. Eodwell, in her best Sunday 
 frock, to recite it, she burst into tears, and forgot it all. 
 Snapp had to deliver the speech, with all its long words, 
 herself. 
 
 To-morrow is the grand day, and we are in such a flutter 
 that we can talk and think of nothing else. I must leave 
 you, Nelly, as I must run to look after my dress. 
 I remain, dearest, 
 Yours, in a perfect fever of excitement, 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 I wish those boys at Dr. Hawkes' would learn to behave 
 themselves ! We never meet them but they try to break our 
 ranks, and go on in the most ridiculous manner. They blow 
 kisses to us, and throw up their eyes as if they were dying, 
 and put their hands upon their hearts, and say the most 
 impudent things as we pass. I declare it's quite disagreeable 
 to come near them. Their conduct, too, in church, is so 
 disgraceful that I am astonished the beadle doesn't turn them 
 all out ! I do detest boys, Nelly ; and these seem to be the 
 rudest, the very worst-behaved specimens I ever saw. What 
 do you think one silly overgrown hobbedehoy, with a turn-down 
 collar and a monkey-jacket, had the impertinence to throw 
 into my parasol as we were out walking last Wednesday ? 
 Why, a letter, dear! — and it was written on a sheet torn out 
 of an exercise-book ! It began with, " Vision of Beauty ! — 
 Deign to cast thy cerulean orbs of beauty" — I didn't read any 
 more of the rubbish. How different to dear Sydney's ! ! ! 
 
 Talking of that, Nelly, you mustn't say a word about Meggy 
 Sharpe's reading his letter out aloud to the school. It would 
 only make him unhappy, poor fellow ; and he would naturally 
 imagine I was in the habit of showing his treasured corre- 
 spondence to everybody. 
 
THE BALL KICKED AWAY FROM. ONE'S FEET. 101 
 
 P.S. Mind you bring the money with you, Nelly, or else I 
 shall not be allowed to go home ; for no girl is allowed to leave 
 this place in debt. You wouldn't wish me, dearest, to miss my 
 holidays for the matter of a 2s. 4§d., and I have so much to 
 tell you, Nelly ! 
 
 THE SIXTEENTH LETTER LEFT. 
 
 (Date blotted out this time, decidedly with tears.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT WAS THE CAUSE OF THE POSTPONEMENT OP 
 THE BALL. 
 
 rp O-MORRO W is our grand ball, Nelly ; but all thoughts of the 
 -*- coming joy have been put aside. Our dresses have been 
 brought out in all their smartness ; but they lie upon our beds, 
 untouched, almost unnoticed. There is sorrow, dear, in the 
 house, and every tongue is still as if the grief were its own, 
 and not another person's. 
 
 Mrs. Dove is so ill, that when you look at her you are obliged 
 to turn your head for fear of making her grief greater by any 
 exhibition of your own. You long to relieve her — you advance 
 to offer what little aid you can — but tears quickly warn you to 
 retreat, and you feel that the greatest charity is to leave her 
 alone ; that, after all, the best sympathy your heart can show 
 is that of silence. There is such sanctity about her sorrow that 
 you imagine the only words to approach it with should be those 
 of prayer. 
 
 Ever since the confirmation she has been growing thinner 
 and paler. She has avoided everybody. She has moved about 
 as if in pain ; and lately has seemed too weak, even, to play 
 with her boy. When you questioned her — " it was only a 
 headache — she could assure you there was nothing the matter 
 — perhaps it was the heat ? however she should be better in a 
 
102 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 day or two ; " and, do what you would, you could not persuade 
 her to have any advice. 
 
 Last Sunday she fainted in church, causing a commotion 
 which brought a letter of complaint from the Rev. Mr. Whyte 
 Choker the following day. The Lady Principal was very cross 
 — and to listen to her reproaches you would imagine that Mrs. 
 Dove had done it on purpose. She attributed it entirely to 
 her " delicacy," and made some harsh remarks about " ladies 
 always taking care to choose the best opportunity for fainting." 
 But Blight was of a different opinion. She thought there was 
 more illness in the accident than purpose or affectation ; and 
 she redoubled her attentions to her sister-teacher, dressing her 
 boy of a morning, encouraging her in all her tasks, and helping 
 her as much as she could. The first visit, too, Dr. Healy 
 made, she waylaid him on the staircase, and told him how she 
 feared the poor young widow was seriously ill. They went 
 together to the Lady Principal, and then Mrs. Dove was 
 summoned to the boudoir. She stood at the door with her 
 hand upon the handle, for full five minutes, before she dared 
 go in ! 
 
 She came out, dear Nelly, supported by Blight, and weeping 
 violently. She was holding her boy convulsively to her breast, 
 as if afraid that some one was about to tear him away from 
 her ; and, though her kind supporter was offering every conso- 
 lation her good heart could think of, still it was evident that 
 not one word entered her ears, or had the slightest effect in 
 stilling the tempest of her passion. Her soul was deafened with 
 the loud noise of its own grief too much to listen, at that 
 moment, to the gentle voice of kindness. All entreaties failed, 
 and, crying as if her heart must break, we saw her carried up- 
 stairs to bed, where at least her anguish would be undisturbed 
 by noise and prying looks. 
 
 As soon as Blight came down we gathered round her, and she 
 told us the Doctor had said it was " a rapid consumption," and 
 that she would not live a month, unless immediate change of 
 
A COUNCIL OF GOVERNESSES. 103 
 
 air and scene were procured. He strictly forbade her looking 
 into a book, and solemnly cautioned her, as she loved her child, 
 and wished to save his life, neither to sleep with him, nor to 
 caress him — in short, not to allow him to be with her more 
 than she could positively help. In fact, to be plain, if she 
 could make up her mind to a total separation, it would be better 
 both for her and for the boy. 
 
 This decision hurt her (so Blight said) a thousand times more 
 than the knowledge of her own serious illness. For that she 
 seemed to care but little, but to be told that she must be sepa- 
 rated from the only object that made life sweet, seemed to 
 stab her to the heart. To see her boy outstretch his little 
 arms, and to be obliged to turn away and deny him the kisses 
 he was begging for, was a privation of affection that her 
 mother's whole nature revolted at ! Her child was her only 
 happiness in this world ; and now she musn't indulge in that ! 
 nay, worse, she must deny herself all intercourse with him, 
 and, blinding her eyes to his endearing smiles, she must walk 
 away with greater indifference even than if the child had been 
 a stranger's ! It was a dreadful struggle, which Blight hopes 
 she may never see again. The baby was crying to go to his 
 distressed mother, and she was shrinking from him, and 
 creeping round the table to avoid his childish caresses. Then 
 she snatched him up wildly, and covered him with frantic kisses ; 
 then, as suddenly, she turned aside her head, as though there 
 were poison in her breath, and she was afraid that one particle 
 of it might fall upon him, and wither the only flower of her life. 
 Unclasping his arm from round her neck, she laid him gently 
 down, and rushed madly to the opposite side of the room, where 
 she fell exhausted upon the floor. Whilst she was insensible 
 her child was carried away. 
 
 At this point, Blight, whom we were all thanking for her 
 sisterly kindness, was called out to assist at a general council. 
 There were present all the governesses, including Twigg, and 
 of course the redoubtable Snapp. Miss Priscilla Hextra was 
 
101 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 leaning against the corner of the mantel-piece, and the Lady 
 
 Principal presided at the head of the rosewood table, wringing 
 
 her hands as if she was washing them, which is a habit of her's 
 
 whenever the boiled mutton is too underdone, or she is at all put 
 
 out by any little scholastic excitement. " What was to be done ? 
 
 She had assumed a very false position in receiving Mrs. Dove 
 
 with her infant into the school ; and she would take very good 
 
 care she never did such a foolish thing again ! Jt was wrong 
 
 of her to allow feeling to silence judgment ; and now she 
 
 bitterly repented of it. The facts were these. Mrs. Dove had 
 
 formerly been educated at her College, and a very good pupil 
 
 she was. Well, after the death of her profligate husband, she 
 
 had consented, much out of pity, to accept a small premium — 
 
 an exceedingly small premium — to maintain them in comfort 
 
 until a situation could be found for the mother as a governess, 
 
 which duty she was sorely afraid she would never be qualified to 
 
 fulfil. However, that trifle had long ago been consumed — in 
 
 fact, it had barely covered the first year's expenditure. Now, 
 
 she was the last person to behave unfeelingly or to wish to 
 
 turn them out of the house ; but she wanted to know what was 
 
 to become of them ? She really could not afford the expense 
 
 of a lingering illness, that, for anything she knew, might 
 
 terminate fatally ; and then the child would be left destitute 
 
 upon her hands. As for property, she knew Mrs. Dove had 
 
 parted with everything to enable her to enter the College ; and 
 
 as for relations, both her father and mother were dead, and 
 
 she doubted if she had a respectable friend in the world. One 
 
 thing, however, was certain. Mrs. Dove must appeal for aid 
 
 elsewhere. She did not wish to be harsh ; but still the 
 
 exigencies of the case were such as to render her immediate 
 
 removal from the Princesses' College a matter of unavoidable 
 
 necessity. It was preposterous to suppose she could permit a 
 
 death in her house. It might be fatal to the interests of her 
 
 establishment. The parents might take alarm — might fancy 
 
 it was some contagious or infectious disease — and in less than 
 
AN IMPENETRABLE SUIT OF ARMOUR. 105 
 
 a week all the young ladies might be fetched away, to the great 
 benefit of Mrs. Spankit, who, she had no doubt, would be 
 delighted to receive every one of her pupils. No ; it was a source 
 of great grief for her to say so ; but Mrs. Dove must leave as soon 
 as her health, for which she entertained the greatest anxiety, 
 would permit, and, as for the boy, he must be removed instantly." 
 
 Blight pleaded, dearest Nelly, as if she had been pleading 
 for her life. She only asked for charity for a dying widow" 
 She spoke with all the eloquence of a woman's heart ; but 
 there was no woman's heart to listen to her. The Lady 
 Principal had steeled herself in alarm — had regularly encased 
 herself in a full-length suit of selfish fears — and there was no 
 touching her in any one point. She was impenetrable to pity, 
 and to all the noble feelings which generally touch a woman's 
 nature, and make her hold out the hand of charity to another 
 in distress. The governesses promised to subscribe amongst 
 themselves for any additional expense she might be put to 
 on account of the illness of Mrs. Dove ; but no, the respecta- 
 bility of the establishment must be considered above all 
 things — and she felt herself bound to refuse their offer, though 
 she was profoundly moved by the generosity of it. The battle 
 was over. Poor Blight abandoned the attack in hopeless 
 discomfiture, finding that her appeals to kindness only flew off 
 blunted and pointless from the hard armour of calculation in 
 which her mistress had arrayed herself for the occasion. 
 
 (Oh, I thought to myself all the time I was listening to 
 these sorrowful particulars, if this cruelty had only been 
 known before the subscriptions were collected for the Lady 
 Principal's birthday-present, every girl would have flung all 
 her money out of the window sooner than have subscribed a 
 single shilling for that beautiful time-piece ! ) 
 
 Well, Nelly, after a long hour had been spent in useless 
 talk and tears, the council was breaking up, when the Lady 
 Principal, alarmed probably by a cry of her awakening 
 conscience, called them back, and made this concession : 
 
106 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Dove might linger through her few remaining 
 days in peace at the College, provided the boy were imme- 
 diately removed to some more appropriate abode, and a 
 guarantee given for the expenses of the funeral." Blight 
 instantly gave her own word as a guarantee for the latter 
 (how can she do it, Nelly, with all her recent claims ? but it's 
 my firm belief that the girls won't allow her to pay a farthing 
 of them, supposing it ever should come to a struggle of emula- 
 tion, which I pray with all my heart that it never may), and 
 so the deputation left the drawing-room. 
 
 How Blight managed to break this fresh sorrow to her 
 friend, and how she succeeded in supporting her through the 
 agony of that long sleepless night, are mysteries of kindness, 
 which we did not attempt to inquire into, but which have only 
 made us admire our poor persecuted governess the more, and 
 been the cause of our all voicing never to teaze her, under any 
 pretence, again. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The sun, darting into our little bedroom, awoke me very 
 early this morning, Nelly. It was so happy and brilliant — as 
 brilliant as I should like to see it on my wedding day — that 
 I couldn't sleep. I stole noiselessly along the corridor, and 
 peeped into Blight's chamber. Mrs. Dove was asleep in her 
 bed, and Blight was lying outside, with her clothes on, asleep 
 also. She had evidently fallen at last, with the fatigue of 
 watching. The sun was shining brightly on them both. On 
 the poor widow's face it fell as on a marble statue, — so deadly 
 pale, so immoveable were the features. On the poor 
 governess's face, it alighted, as I thought, as on a sleeping 
 angel. Her head was bathed in light, and around it I thought 
 the rays drew a golden line, that burned before my worshipping 
 eyes like a halo of glory. I blessed her in the secrecy of my 
 soul, and, kneeling, kissed the hem of her garment. There was 
 a slight noise — I tried to rise but couldn't — some strong power 
 kept me on my knees. Blight awoke, and seeing me, pressed 
 
"ALWAYS BE A GOOD GIRL." 107 
 
 me passionately to her breast, and wept, dear, wept like a 
 mother over me. Oh, Nelly, may the purity of those tears, 
 flowing from so good a woman, wash away all the stains out of 
 my foolish heart, and turn all that is black in it as bright as 
 the halo I saw this morning shining round her head ! 
 
 She lifted me up, and carried me back to my room, — where, 
 kissing me, she bade me not to say a word of what had passed. 
 She then tucked me up in my little bed, and enjoining me 
 tenderly " always to be a good girl," left me, with another 
 kiss, long before any of the girls were awake. 
 
 The ball has been postponed, as I have already told you, 
 Nelly. What a change two short days have made in the 
 school. One day we were full of hopes and schemes — our 
 thoughts played with nothing but ribbons, and flowers, and 
 flounces, — and the next our hopes, lifce all our voices, have 
 been hushed, and the most boisterous expression of joy you 
 can hear is a whisper. Only yesterday we were practising 
 Valses a Deux Temps until we were tired, first of being the 
 gentleman and then the lady, and now our footsteps, as we walk 
 in twos-and-twos slowly up and down the room, sound with a 
 hollow echo as if we were walking in a vault. Yesterday we 
 were trying on each other's ear-rings and finery, and amusing 
 ourselves with anticipations of Blight's ball-room dress, 
 wondering where the drop of ink would be this time, and at 
 present we are lost in admiration of her noble devotion to Mrs. 
 Dove, and thinking that there is something finer in this world 
 than fine clothes. 
 
 But, hush, here comes Mrs. Dove — so fearfully changed in 
 so short a time — looking sad but resigned — a saint in suffering. 
 She is leading by the hand her little boy. He is laughing and 
 gambolling by her side, — unconscious of the pang each merry 
 tone is sending to his mother's heart. Instantly upon her 
 arrival the conversation ceases, as if we were entering a 
 church, and all eyes and thoughts are turned to the poor 
 
108 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 doomed martyr. Blight advances to receive her, and the two 
 retire together into a quiet corner, and there, for the present, 
 Nelly, let us leave them. 
 
 I promise to tell you the remainder of this sad story in my 
 next. 
 
 Yours, my pretty Eleanor, 
 
 Yery, very affectionately, 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. I have given a fourpenny piece (Amy lent it me) to 
 Mrs. Perkwisites (our charwoman), upon her promising me 
 most solemnly to drop this in the post. I hope you'll receive 
 it, dear ? 
 
 This is a holiday,' but, as you can imagine, not a very 
 joyful one. The only interest is who can make the most of 
 baby on this his last day. 
 
 THE SEVENTEENTH LETTEE LEFT. 
 
 {Dated Two Days before Breaking-up.) 
 
 SHOWING WHAT CRUELTIES PRIDE IS FREQUENTLY THE 
 UNNATURAL PARENT OF. 
 
 THE day after I wrote to you, sweetest Nelly, I was 
 practising in the little drawing-room, — though my thoughts 
 were more upon the joy of the holidays that are so near than 
 upon the music that was before me, — when a magnificent 
 carriage drove up with two fat grey horses, and the roundest 
 cherub of a coachman I ever saw. The panels were a perfect 
 picture," quite a nosegay of colours, and there were two 
 servants behind with liveries that tired your eyes as much as a 
 kitchen-fire ! You can fancy the sensation so grand a carriage 
 made outside our humble College. All the windows were 
 instantly filled with staring faces, and there was scarcely a 
 
THE TROUBLE OF POOR RELATIONS. 109 
 
 house down the crescent hut the cook and housemaid were 
 standing on the doorstep, having come out purposely to see what 
 was the matter. 
 
 This excitement was rather increased hy such a " rat-tat- tat- 
 tat" (I think both footmen must have knocked at once) as 
 must have given the table-beer in the cellar a shaking that 
 would make it feel for several days still smaller. The house 
 quite throbbed after it ! So great was the noise, that Susan had 
 thought it only respectful to put on her best cap, and there she 
 was standing in the hall, with a clean apron, waiting in a fever 
 of curiosity to know who were the grand visitors. 
 
 Presently, the beautiful heraldic door was thrown back, and, 
 after sundry tugs and pulls, out tumbled a gouty, puffy, white- 
 neck-clothed, old gentleman, shut up inside a perfect watch- 
 box of capes and great coats, of which the only window, or 
 door, was a small aperture left open in front of his red face. 
 All the rest of his body was locked up close by bars of braid 
 and endless bolts of buttons. He was helped across the pave- 
 ment by a footman on each side, and I thought he never would 
 have finished the mere jump of a journey. After him followed a 
 tall, thin, perpendicular, hop-pole of a lady, so stiff, dear, with 
 pride and Pompadour brocade, that it was a perfect wonder to 
 me how she contrived ever to sit down, and she walked into the 
 house with an air that plainly implied that Hammersmith 
 ought to be eternally indebted to her for having condescended 
 to visit its plebeian neighbourhood. I am sure, Nelly, the poor 
 creatures seemed to undergo more trouble in getting out of 
 their carriage than most people would have felt in walking the 
 whole distance from town ! 
 
 I was so engrossed with their movements — so lost in 
 admiration over the horses, and the prize coachman, and the 
 footmen with their rosy silk stockings, that I quite forgot they 
 were coming upstairs, and only remembered it when a short 
 wheezing noise told me it was too late to escape. Nor (I am 
 ashamed to confess it) did I try much, when I heard the lady 
 
110 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 say, with a voice every bit as proud as her walk, " Tell Mrs. 
 Dove that Sir Alexander and Lady Dove are waiting to see 
 her. 11 I ran into a little room at the back, that is meant to be 
 a conservatory, and hid myself behind some artificial plants. 
 I needn't tell you how frightened I was, for I knew I was 
 doing wrong, but still the strong interest I took in the poor 
 widow silenced the small voice of my conscience ; and if the 
 risk had been much greater, I really think I should have 
 braved it. I could observe everything that was going on with- 
 out being seen myself. They looked a cross couple, with a 
 false air of plated gentility about them — nothing of the true 
 stamp which persons nobly born put upon wealth, but which 
 wealth never can put upon those who haven't the nobility either 
 of birth or soul in them. Theirs was clearly the pride of the 
 pocket — a pride that delights most in jingling its money and 
 insolence in the presence of the poor. Accordingly I felt for 
 Mrs. Dove ; for I could fancy the reception she was likely to 
 receive from such rich relations, who evidently were not much 
 in the habit of opening their hearts, unless it was done, as they 
 probably opened their purses, from a cold motive of ostentation. 
 
 She entered the room, ghastly pale, carrying her boy in her 
 arms, and scarcely able to reach the chair into which she 
 sank. Neither rose to receive her. Neither gave the poor 
 stricken woman one look of encouragement, one small word of 
 welcome. 
 
 There was an unpleasant pause, and the old gentleman 
 buried himself in a comfortable arm-chair, apparently quite 
 exhausted, and there he sat perfectly motionless, staring 
 vacantly before him, with the fine meditative expression I 
 have seen in the face of a turtle, to which his cold eye, and the 
 form of his bald head, bore no small resemblance ; the loose 
 folds of his handkerchief round his neck aiding singularly the 
 likeness. Then the stately lady, who seemed to relieve her 
 husband altogether of the fatigue of talking, broke the icy 
 silence. " We have received your note, Mrs. Dove, and attend 
 
A SERMON BY PRIDE ON SELFISHNESS. Ill 
 
 to-day to accept from your hands the child of our dear lost son, 
 whose life, you must excuse me saying it, you cruelly sacrificed 
 to your ambitious views. You know his marriage with you, 
 which we possibly could net think of countenancing, was the 
 cause of his leading the wild, disreputable life he did, and of its 
 ending so fatally." (She stopped here, as if to recover from 
 her maternal emotion, though I am sure she spoke as calmly as 
 if she were engaging a servant, and then pompously con- 
 tinued.) " However, in receiving this dear charge, both Sir 
 Alexander and myself are anxious to forget and forgive the 
 irreparable injuries wrought by your unfeeling selfishness ; nay, 
 you must pardon me if I am seemingly harsh, but I must speak the 
 truth." (I should like to have flung a flower-pot at her head 
 for doing it.) " To show further the kindly feeling that 
 animates both Sir Alexander's bosom and my own, we have 
 agreed to extend permission for your visiting the child (her own 
 child, Nelly,) occasionally, but only after asking our previous 
 sanction, which must be obtained through the application of your 
 solicitor. It is exclusively upon this condition, and upon the 
 clear understanding that you surrender all claim to the boy, 
 that Sir Alexander and myself agree to adopt him, and to make 
 him the inheritor of our joint wealth." 
 
 She waited, as though she expected applause to follow this 
 grand speech, and, not taking any notice of her daughter-in- 
 law's sobbing grief, coldly resumed : 
 
 " We are deeply pained, both Sir Alexander (he was 
 nearly asleep, in spite of his deep pain) and myself, to hear of 
 your ill-health, and to notice its too evident symptoms. As this 
 interview must be equally distressing to both parties, you will 
 oblige me, my dear madam, by immediately preparing the boy, 
 and accepting our fond assurances that he shall receive every 
 attention and love compatible with his new position from his 
 second father and mother. It will be my greatest pride and 
 pleasure to surround him with every happiness, so that he may 
 never feel what it is to miss the loss of you, madam." 
 
112 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK^. 
 
 It was only after two or three efforts that Mrs. Dove could 
 rise from the chair. She attempted to speak, but her voice 
 failed her. She could only speak with her tears, and they 
 could have but little effect in falling on the hearts they did. 
 She bent her neck, as if to the cruelty of the decision, and, 
 guiding herself by the wall, staggered out of the room. 
 
 How I longed for her to return. I did not like being left 
 alone with these two unfeeling creatures, who had come to 
 rob a mother of her child — trading upon her necessities to 
 make an inhuman bargain with her. Their presence seemed 
 to weigh upon the atmosphere. It gave me a sort of night- 
 mare to look at them ; I tried to run out of the room, but 
 my limbs felt chained ; I attempted to scream, but it was as 
 much as I could do to breathe even. How I repented of my 
 girlish curiosity ! I was so unhappy I shouldn't have minded 
 being found out — anything, so that some one had come into 
 the room, and driven away the frightful oppressiveness of being 
 left alone with that proud wicked man and woman ! 
 
 To increase this discomfort, I was compelled to listen to 
 their horrible conversation. Sir Alexander said but little : he 
 seemed only to acquiesce, and his wife did all the talking. 
 He was asked what he thought of "his fine daughter-in- 
 law?" — whether he didn't think she was a "pretty weak 
 thing" — "a delicate piece of goods" — "a nice fanciful 
 lady's-maid for his son to marry ?" and he nodded assent to 
 all these propositions. As a charitable finish, he was asked if 
 he thought " she was long for this world ? " He did not 
 break through the sustained wisdom of his silence, but simply 
 exclaimed a *ound, fat, " Ah ! " which sounded exactly as if 
 he was smacking his lips over a beautiful glass of port wine. 
 
 At last Mrs. Dove entered the room, and I breathed again. 
 She seemed firmer than before. There was a determination 
 in her manner — no timidity or hesitation in her steps. She 
 was leading her boy by the hand. He was dressed in his little 
 hat and coat, ready for the journey — a journey from which 
 
I 
 
 1 
 
SEPARATION BETWEEN MOTHER AND CHILD. 113 
 
 his mother might never see him return. She impressed one 
 long, long despairing kiss upon his pretty lips, and then, 
 shutting her eyes, placed him in Lady Dove's arms ; this 
 done she turned quickly away, and I could see her hands joined 
 convulsively together, and her lips moving quickly, though I 
 could not hear one word come from them. 
 
 Lady Dove received the hoy — neither addressing nor noticing 
 the poor mother, whose heart was bursting over the sacrifice. 
 She was preparing without a word to leave the room, when 
 the little fellow — beginning probably to awaken to the idea of 
 being separated from his mother — set up a shrill scream of 
 anger. Upon hearing the first sound of that beloved appeal, 
 Mrs. Dove turned round, her head rose from the resting-place 
 of her bosom, and her eyes flew with her thoughts to Heaven, 
 whose aid she was invoking to carry her through this hard 
 struggle. The boy still continued screaming. She was about 
 to rush to him ; but, no — she paused, and falling upon her 
 knees, and clasping her hands over her ears, her body was 
 soon bent in the full fervour of prayer. 
 
 I rushed out in a minute, and stood quietly by her side, not 
 liking to disturb her holy meditations, but ready to offer any 
 assistance she might need. There she remained long after 
 the gorgeous carriage had carried away her darling. After a 
 time she grew calmer ; and when she turned round and 
 noticed me, she fell upon my neck and, in a thrilling voice, 
 which I shall never forget, so kind it was, though pierced 
 through and through with tears, she blessed me. 
 
 Then, meekly as a child, she permitted me to lift her up, 
 and to conduct her to Blight, who took her to her loving arms 
 and nursed her, and did all that sympathy could do to stop 
 the flow of grief that had been so deeply stabbed as hers. 
 
 Not a word did the poor afflicted one inquire about her boy ! 
 Blight says the only consolation that supports her in this 
 severe trial is the knowledge that her child is provided for now 
 for life. 
 
114 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 The Lady Principal has given up her private rooms to the 
 use of Mrs. Dove. I imagine she is secretly ashamed of her 
 severity towards the poor governess, and wishes to make 
 amends for it. She looks in every half-hour, asking if there 
 is anything she can do, and has asked Blight to sit up with 
 her friend all night, and they had better sleep in her room, 
 and then she can keep Blight company. Ah ! Nelly, I'm 
 sure we should never commit an act of unkindness, if we 
 could only foresee how sorry we should be for it afterwards ! 
 
 I am called away, Nelly ; so, with the hastiest snatch of a 
 kiss, good-bye. 
 
 Yours fondly and faithfully, 
 
 Kitty. 
 
 P.S. I shall see you now in two or three days, and then 
 won't I give it you for not writing, you good-for-nothing, 
 lazy thing ! 
 
 P.S. Those tiresome examinations at last are over! I've 
 got a prize for " Calcul de Tete" and a carte de merite for 
 my Maintien. The most curious thing is that St. Ledger, who 
 is one of the dullest girls, and can hardly read the Marriage 
 Service, has carried off five or six prizes ! Meggy Sharpe 
 says that it is all on account of the pine-apples, and pheasants, 
 and jars of turtle and milk-punch which her papa is continually 
 sending the Lady Principal. She says if she had been the 
 daughter of an alderman, or if I had been in any way related to 
 the London Tavern, that probably we should have been puffed 
 into equal prodigies. This is too monstrous ! and I cannot 
 believe any schoolmistress would be guilty of such gross 
 favouritism. However, it is a great wonder amongst us all 
 how poor Plodder, who nearly turned her red hair grey by 
 fagging, has not succeeded in gaining a single prize ; but 
 then Meggy says it would be folly to expect it, for her father 
 is only a small coal-merchant, and that his daughter never 
 will be clever until he has sense enough to send in on 
 
A PRIZE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 115 
 
 trial a wanton-load of his best coals. I don't believe a 
 word of it. 
 
 I have done such a beautiful drawing — so beautiful that 
 when our drawing-master showed it me, I did not recognise 
 it as mj own ! How pleased papa and mamma will be ! but 
 I hope they will not ask me to draw when I am at home, or 
 else I am afraid they will find out a sad difference between my 
 scratchy efforts and the beautiful " Moonlight View of Tintern 
 Abbey M (which is almost prettier, dear, than the drawings 
 they hang in the shop windows where they sell pencils), that is 
 at present lying before me with my name in the corner ! 
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH LETTEE LEET. 
 
 (Dated " the last night at School") 
 
 SHOWING THAT SCHOOL IS NOT SUCH A TERRIBLE PLACE 
 AFTER ALL. 
 
 SUCH an event, Nelly ! The School is in such an excite- 
 ment, that, though I am to see you to-morrow, I cannot 
 resist writing you a short account of if. 
 
 Yesterday evening, when we were all talking of the pleasure 
 of returning home, and of the different pic-nics, theatres, balls 
 tmdi fetes we expected to go to ; and were exchanging innume- 
 rable promises of visiting and inviting each other during the 
 holidays ; a cab drove up to the door. In an instant we were all 
 at the windows. Some ran to the door, and one or two 
 contrived cleverly to be on the staircase at the very moment an 
 elegant Lady was running up to the drawing-room. She 
 enquired, in great anxiety, " for her niece ; " and, when asked 
 who she meant, for she seemed to imagine, as a matter of 
 course, that every one knew her niece, to our great astonish- 
 ment we heard her say — "Why Fanny Dove, to be sure." 
 
116 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOK'S. 
 
 Immediately we all flew upstairs ; but to Blight was left the 
 honour of conducting the poor invalid into the drawing-room. 
 In the next minute — for the door had been left open, and we 
 could see everything — she was locked in her aunt's arms, who 
 was weeping over her brother's pride and treasure — scolding, 
 caressing, cheering, and pitying, all in the same breath. 
 
 Then she asked after her little boy ; and, when Fanny, with 
 blushes and trembling lips, had told the painful truth of his 
 separation, the aunt cried still more, and angrily said — * l For 
 shame, Fanny — for shame, to part with your child ; but never 
 mind, dear — come don't cry so — I will run into their house, if 
 that's all, and carry him off myself ; and you shall never lose 
 him again ; and the dear boy shall compensate with eternal 
 love his angel mother for all the sacrifices she has made for his 
 sake." Long before the finish of these endearments, the tone 
 of anger, which at first had pierced the aunt's voice, had 
 softened into tones of the most loving kindness ; and there she 
 was, seated on the sofa by the side of Fanny, lavishing every 
 tenderness she could think of in order to stop her tears. But, 
 Nelly dear, they were tears, not of grief, or pain ; but tears of 
 gratitude as pure as the heart from which they flowed. She 
 smiled, and looked so beautiful, for I had never seen her smile 
 before, and happiness played like so much sunshine about her 
 face. It seemed as if the clouds, which so long had settled 
 there, were clearing away, and that her soul was shining 
 through her features, as it caught at last a bright glimpse of 
 Heaven. 
 
 Shall I tell you of the touching farewell she took of the Lady 
 Principal and the College, where she had known nothing but 
 sorrow ? All recollection, however, of what she had endured 
 had left her gentle breast, and she lingered now amongst us 
 as if loth to part. We crowded round her, and I thought we 
 never should get tired of shaking her by the hand, and kissing 
 her, and wishing her all sorts of happiness. 
 
 At last, Aunt dragged her gently away. Resting on her 
 
WHAT ONE LEARNS AT SCHOOL. 117 
 
 supporting arm, she followed as naturally as a child follows its 
 mother. As she was heing led to the cah, the Aunt kept up a 
 continual soliloquy — as I have heard a nurse soothe an ailing 
 infant — singing by her side a murmuring lullaby of tenderness. 
 I heard her reproach her in this affectionate manner — " Ah ! 
 you naughty, unkind Fanny, not to have sent earlier to your 
 poor Aunt. I suppose, you foolish girl, you were too proud ? 
 and how could she know where you were ; or that you were 
 dangerously ill ? However, never mind, dearest, we will make 
 up for lost time — you will soon get well in the country — and, 
 with your little boy, we shall feel so happy as if grief never 
 could touch us again, won't we, eh, my pretty lamb ? you 
 dear, foolish, wicked Fanny, ever to have thought your aunt 
 loved you less than she really does." 
 
 With these soothing reproaches she was handed into the 
 cab. She looked out of the window to smile a last farewell, 
 when she perceived poor Blight, who was half-hiding behind 
 the hall-door. She sprang out in one minute, and, throwing 
 her arms round her neck, she ejaculated between her kisses and 
 her tears — " God bless you, my dearest friend, I hope I shall 
 never forget your kindness to me;" and a promise was 
 extorted from the Lady Principal that Blight was to pass the 
 holidays with them. 
 
 Fraulein Agatha told her most German stories that evening. 
 Mademoiselle tried to enliven us with some of her most 
 favourite anecdotes, that had never failed before to make us 
 laugh ; but all in vain. Our thoughts would return to Fanny 
 Dove, and we could think and talk of nothing else. 
 
 My first half-year ends to-morrow. School does not appear 
 to me now the dreadful place — the awful Blue Beard's chamber 
 — that it did when first I peeped into it. I have learnt by 
 this time to respect my Schoolmistress. I know her sternness 
 is mostly assumed to frighten us into obedience ; and, that 
 under her seeming severity there lurks a natural kindness that 
 would sooner at any period remit a punishment than inflict one. 
 
118 LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRYCOOKS. 
 
 Moreover, I can make allowances for her temper ever since I 
 have had two little girls to look after myself ; and have 
 discovered how trying it is to put up with their thousand little 
 provocations and to keep them out of mischief. If it is difficult 
 then with two girls — what must it he with sixty ? 
 
 But there is one thing, Nelly, which reconciles me to School 
 more than any other, aud which will always make me look hack 
 upon it with feelings of pleasure — I mean the good friends I 
 have made since I have been here — friends, who I hope will 
 continue to be my friends through life. 
 
 Besides, I have learnt one great truth, and that is to look 
 with great respect, if not admiration, on many of our poor 
 taskmasters and taskmistresses, who are tutoring and punishing 
 themselves daily in the great school of adversity, all the time 
 they are teaching us. What are our school- sufferings compared 
 to theirs ? What are their school-enjoyments in comparison 
 with ours ! 
 
 But, Nelly, I shall see you to-morrow; and there's no 
 occasion to trouble you twice over with the same dreary 
 common-places, which you will not care to laugh at, probably, 
 more than once. Till I see you, dearest, I remain. 
 Yours, most anxiously, 
 
 Kitty Clover. 
 
 P.S. Shall I ever be able to forgive you for not having 
 answered my letters ? But, probably, you have not had an 
 opportunity of writing. 
 
 P.S. Tell dear Sydney I am coming home. Has he 
 forgotten me in six months ? Whisper into his' ear, I have a 
 hair chain for him — my oudn hair — if he'll wear it. 
 
 P.S. There has been quite a rage for fainting lately. 
 Every girl thought it her duty on the smallest pretext to 
 faint. However, Snapp threw a glass of vinegar over Noble's 
 beautiful dove-coloured silk dress, and completely spoilt it. 
 There has been no fainting since. 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL. 119 
 
 P.S. (the last.) Eer husband came last night whistling and 
 singing as usual. He thought to-night was to have been the 
 grand ball. I am so glad he was disappointed. Blight told 
 me (in confidence) he stopped very late, and was only persuaded 
 at last to go upon being promised 100?. to go over to Australia 
 and try his fortune there. Perhaps it's for the best ; but poor 
 Mrs. Rod well ! I'm ready to forgive her all my fines and 
 forfeits, when I think of those that have been heartlessly 
 levied upon her, 
 
 P.S. (the very last.) Oh dear ! Shan't I dream of Home 
 to-night ! 
 
 This was the last Letter Left at the Pastrycook's. 
 
 THE END. 
 
LONDON I 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
On SATURDAY, January 1st, 1853. 
 
 WILL BE COMMENCED THE PUBLICATION OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE BEST WOEKS OF THE BEST AUTHOKS 
 OF ALL NATIONS, 
 
 IN ALL DEPARTMENTS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Beautifully and Uniformly Printed in Royal Octavo, with two or more 
 First-class Illustrations to each Number, and a Handsome Cover. 
 
 TN adding to the number of cheap popular Libraries now in course of 
 publication, it is necessary briefly to describe the characteristic 
 features of the present undertaking. These may be stated as 
 
 1. The Standard Excellence of the Works selected. 
 
 2. The Variety and Number of Subjects and Authors. 
 
 3. The Excellence of the Type, the Printing, and the Paper. 
 
 4. The Beauty of the Illustrations. 
 
 5. The Cheapness of the Price. 
 
 6. The Convenience of the Mode of Publication. 
 
 1. The Standard Excellence of the Works selected. — No Work will be 
 included in this Library which has not already so completely gained 
 universal approbation as to have become an indispensable part of the 
 World's literature ; such Works as ought to be found in every public 
 library, and which the present undertaking will place within the reach 
 of the inmates of every house where the English language is spoken. 
 
 2. The Variety and Number of Subjects and Authors. — The Library 
 will embrace works in 
 
 I. — HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 II. — VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 
 III. — POETRY. 
 
 IV. — FICTION. 
 
 V. — ESSAYS AND CRITICISM. 
 VI. — MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. 
 
The authors from whose works selections will be made, will include 
 the best writers of all countries, as the following selection from the list 
 will show : — 
 
 ENGLISH. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 SPANISH AND POR 
 
 Addison. 
 Alison. 
 
 Anson. 
 Beattie. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 Sterne. 
 
 TUCUESE. 
 
 Camoens. 
 
 Thompson, &c. 
 FRENCH. 
 
 Cervantes. 
 Lope de Vega. 
 
 Blair. 
 
 Beranger. 
 
 Quevedo, &c. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 La Perouse. 
 
 SWEDISH. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Le Sage. 
 
 Bremer. 
 
 Cooke. 
 
 Moliere. 
 
 Carlen, &c. 
 
 Collins. 
 
 Montaigne. 
 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 Racine. 
 
 GERMAN. 
 
 Drtden. 
 
 St. Pierre. 
 
 FOUQUE. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 Goethe. 
 
 Gray. 
 
 Yertot, &c. 
 
 Schiller. 
 
 Izaak Walton. 
 
 
 WlELAND, &C 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 ITALIAN. 
 
 
 Kirke White. 
 
 Alfieri. 
 
 AMERICAN. 
 
 Locke. 
 
 Ariosto. 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Dante. 
 
 Child. 
 
 Park. 
 
 Machiavelli. 
 
 Emerson. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Marco Polo. 
 
 Irving. 
 
 Robertson. 
 
 Petrarch, &c. 
 
 Sedgwick, &c. 
 
 with a varied selection of works from the Greek and Roman Classics 
 and from Oriental writers. The works chosen from the writers enume- 
 rated will be printed from the best texts, and the translations from 
 foreign authors will be made with accuracy and spirit. Original notes 
 will be added wherever they are considered necessary. 
 
 3. The Excellence of the Type, the Printing, and the Paper. — The work 
 will be printed in a clear readable type, in double columns, on superior 
 paper, made expressly for this Library. 
 
 4. The Beauty of the Illustrations. — Each number will contain two or 
 more highly finished engravings ; consisting either of portraits of the 
 authors, or representations of scenes forming the subject of the works. 
 The preparation of these engravings has been entrusted to the most 
 eminent artists, among whom may be mentioned Dodgson, Duncan, 
 Gilbert, Harvey, &c. &c. 
 
5. The CJieapness of the Price. — As a general rule, each number will 
 contain, in addition to the engravings, about one hundred and twelve 
 pages of letter-press, and the price will be one shilling. As, how- 
 ever, it is intended that each number shall be complete in itself, the 
 price will occasionally vary according to the size of the work, but the 
 charge will be at the above rate of one hundred and twelve large octavo 
 pages for one shilling. 
 
 6. The Convenience of the Mode of Publication. — No number of this 
 Library will be issued which does not contain one or more perfect 
 works, so that the purchaser of one number will be under no obliga- 
 tion or necessity to continue the series. When it is found convenient 
 to include more than one work in one number, the works thus em- 
 braced will be similar in character. The numbers will be issued on 
 the 1st and 15th of each month, and the subjects specified in paragraph 
 2 will follow each other in succession. As soon as a sufficient number 
 of works on one subject are issued, they will be collected and published 
 in volumes, but for the convenience of those who prefer to purchase 
 the numbers, covers for the volumes will be sold at such a price that 
 the cost in both cases will be the same. 
 
 ON JANUAKY 1st, 1853, 
 
 Six numbers will be issued embracing works in all the above specified 
 departments of literature, namely: — 
 
 1.— SCOTT'S " LADY OF THE LAKE," AND " LAY OF THE LAST 
 
 MINSTREL." 
 2.-GOLDSMITH'S "VICAR OF WAKEFIELD," AND SAINTINE'S 
 
 " PICCIOLA." 
 3.— ANSON'S " VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD." 
 4.— IZAAK WALTON'S "LIVES OF DONNE, WOTTON, HERBERT, 
 
 HOOKER, AND SANDERSON." 
 5.— ALISON'S " ESSAYS ON TASTE." 
 6.— STERNE'S " TRISTRAM SHANDY." 
 
 Thus presenting, at the outset of this important series of volumes, a 
 specimen of each of the departments of Literature which they will 
 embrace. 
 
CHEAP SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED NOVELS. 
 
 ADAPTED FOR RAILWAY READING. 
 
 Crown octavo, about 300 pages, elegantly bound in cloth, 2s. 6d. per 
 Volume. Morocco, elegant, 7s. 6d. 
 
 UNABRIDGED AND ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
 
 UNCLE . TOM'S CABIN. (Sixth Edition.) By Harriet B. 
 
 Stowe. Now ready, second edition, price 2s. in wrapper ; or, 2s. 6d. cloth, gilt. 
 Embellished with Eight Fine Engravings. 
 
 LADY FELICIA. By Henry Cockton, Author of "Valentine 
 
 Vox," "Sylvester Sound," &c. Post 8vo, with Illustrated Frontispiece and 
 Title, elegantly bound in blue and silver, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE SQUANDEBS OF CASTLE SQUANDER A New 
 
 Novel. In two Volumes. By William Carleton, Author of " The Black 
 Prophet," " Traits of the Irish Peasantry," &c. &c. 
 
 " It will be strange indeed if we do not get at the truth of the state of 
 society in Ireland through the country's novels." — The Scotsman. 
 
 UNABRIDGED AND ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
 
 THE WHITE SLAVE : A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN 
 
 VIRGINIA. Third Edition. Edited by R. Hildbeth, Esq., Author of "A 
 History of the United States." ' 
 
 THE PATHWAY OF THE FAWN. By Mrs. T. K. Hervey. 
 
 Illustrated with Chapter Initials and Twelve highly finished Engravings on 
 Wood, printed in two Tints, and elegantly bound in cloth, gilt edges, 
 price 2s. 6d. 
 
 SEALSFIELD'S CABIN BOOK. This Interesting Work will 
 
 contain Scenes and Sketches of the late American and Mexican War. 
 
 IV AB; OB, THE SK JUTS-BOY. From the Swedish of 
 
 Emilie Carlen, Author of " Woman's Life," " The Birthright," &c. 
 
 ADOLPHE BENOUABD. A Tale of Bural Life in France. 
 
 By James Ward, Esq. Illustrated with Eight spirited Engravings. 
 
 THE NATIONAL ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY. 
 
 In Monthly Volumes, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 about 300 pages and 50 Engravings. Crown Svo., handsomely 
 bound in cloth, gilt. Morocco, 7s. 6d. 
 
 For works already published, See Ingram, Cooke, & Co.'s NEW ILLUSTRATED 
 CATALOGUE, printed on a fine paper, demy Svo, with numerous beautiful 
 Engravings from various works, including a selection from GIFT-BOOKS OF THE 
 SEASON. Sent free per Post on receipt of 4 Postage Stamps. 
 
 LONDON : INGRAM, COOKE, & CO., 227, STRAND. 
 
U DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 28Jan64JA 
 
 KEC'D LB 
 
 JAN 2 3 '64 -Pft f 
 
 I5iW6ffty 
 
 
 NOV 2 7 1968 00 
 
 -JAAU2- 
 
 1969 
 
 tlfeC 12 1970 oa 
 
 WSmSSMM 2 1 7A ; £|f