A sagacious observer of human nature and fortunes has said, that "if there were more knowledge, there would be less envy." The history of our heroine is a striking exemplification of the truth of this remark when all was darkness without, she had been looked upon by the compassionate as an object of pity, for they could not see the sunshine of the breast; and now that she was considered as the chief favourite of the fickle goddess, there was not one that would have envied her, if the internal conflict she suffered-if that most unpleasant of all feelings, disagreement with herself, had been as visible, as her external fortunes were.

Erskine was in too good humour with himself, and with Jane, to find fault with any thing: yet he certainly was a little disappointed, that in spite of his earnest persuasions to the contrary, she firmly persisted in the plan of the school; and we fear he was surprised, perhaps slightly mortified, that she showed no more joy at having secured a station, to which he knew so many had aspired.

CHAPTER XII.

The world is still deceived with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil?

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

JANE entered upon the duties of her new vocation with more energy and interest than could have been reasonably expected from a young lady who had so recently entered into an engagement, and one which opened upon her the most flattering prospects. She already felt the benefits resulting from the severe discipline she had suffered in her aunt's family. She had a rare habit of putting self aside of deferring her own inclinations to the will, and interests, and inclinations of others. A superficial survey of the human mind in all its diversity of conditions, will convince us that it may be trained to any thing; else, how shall we account for the proud exultation of a savage amidst the cruellest tortures his triumphant enemy can inflict; or for any of the wonderful phenomena of enterprise, of fortitude, of patience,

in beings whose physical natures are so constituted, that they instinctively shrink from suffering?

Our fair young readers (if any of that class condescend to read this unromantic tale) will smile at the idea that Jane had any further occasion for the virtues of adversity; but she was far from being happy; she had not that firm confidence in the character of her lover that could alone have inspired the joy of hope, and secured a quiet spirit. Since her engagement, and even before, and ever since she had been interested in Erskine, she had not dared to sound the depths of her heart. Though quite a novice in the experience of love, she would have been able to detect its subtleties; she would have been able to ascertain the nature, and amount of her affection for Erskine, had she not been driven by his apparent magnanimity, and the oppression of her relations, to a sudden decision. We appeal then once more to our fair young readers, and trust their justice will award to our heroine some praise, for her spirited and patient performance of her duties to her young pupils, who were very far from imagining that their kind and gentle teacher had any thing in the world to trouble her, or to engage her mind, but their wants and pursuits.

Her disquietude did not escape the quickened vision of her vigilant friend Mr. Lloyd; he observed the shadows of anxiety settling on her usually bright and cheerful countenance, but even he had no conception of the extent of her busy apprehensions and secret misgivings.

Week after week passed away, and there seemed to be no prospect that any thing would occur to free Jane from the very unpleasant situation in which her aunt's accusations had placed her. Erskine became restless and impatient, derided all Jane's arguments in favour of delaying their marriage, and finally affected to distrust her affection for him. If the undefined, and undefinable sentiment which was compounded in Jane's heart of youthful preference and gratitude, was not love, Jane believed it was, and she at last yielded a reluctant consent, that the marriage should take place at the end of three months, even though nothing should occur to release her from her aunt's power.

It was a few days after this promise had been given, that as she was one day returning from her school, Erskine joined her." Your friend Robert Lloyd," said he, "has taken a mighty fancy to me of late, I cannot conceive what is the reason of it."

Jane blushed, for she thought he might have guessed the reason. "I am glad of it," she replied, "for he seems to have withdrawn his friendship from me, and you are the only person, Edward, to whom I should be resigned to have it transferred."

"Ah, Jane! you need not be alarmed; he and I should never mix, any more than oil and vinegar."

"I am sorry for that; but which is the oil, and which the vinegar?"

Oh, he is the oil, soft-neutralizing-rather tasteless; while I, you know, have a character of my own-am positive-am-but perhaps it would not be quite modest for me to finish the parallel. To confess the truth to you, Jane, I have always had an aversion to Quakers; they are a very hypocritical sect, depend upon it; pretending, sly, cheating rogues."

"That's a harsh judgment," replied Jane, with some warmth, “ and a prejudice, I think ; is not Mr. Lloyd the only Quaker you know ?”

"Why-ye-yes, the only one I know much

of."

"And does he justify your opinion?"

"I don't know; it takes a great while to find them out; and even if Lloyd should be what he would seem, the exception only proves the rule, I have always disliked Quakers. I remember a story my father used to tell, when I was a child, about his being over-reached in a most ingenious, practised manner, by one of the scoundrels, as he called the whole race. It was not an affair of any great moment; but no man likes to be outwitted in a bargain, and my father used to say it gave him an antipathy to the very name of a Quaker."

"I think your father was in fault," replied Jane, "so carelessly to implant a prejudice, which, as it seems to have had very slight ground, I trust has not taken such deep root that it cannot be easily eradicated."

"There is more reason in my judgment than you give me credit for," replied Edward pettishly.

R