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honor to serve, had in her family a daughter named Julia; a niece, named Mary Anne, and a little orphan girl, named Gabrielle. Mrs. Prior, though kind and benevolent, had not been very judicious in her plans for educating her niece and daughter. They were selfish and ignorant, cared for nothing but balls and parties, and their mother had little in view for them, but to have them appear well in company. But my dear friend Gabrielle, to whom I was soon transferred by an accident which I shall always rejoice in, was of an entirely different character. She spent all her time in reading or working, or in performing the little offices of care and attention which devolved upon her in the family of Mrs. Prior. I was often so happy as to accompany her in her visits to the poor, to whom she always imparted something, even if it were but small, but always with a kind tone and gentle manners. After a time, some changes took place in Mrs. Prior's family, and Gabrielle was not able to remain with her any longer. The manners of the young ladies were so disagreeable, that my friend did not so much regret leaving them, though she was very sorry that Mrs. Prior, who had shown her much kindness, should have suffered any misfortune.

I accompanied Gabrielle when she went to the new residence which was provided for her, and where, as I learned from conversation, she was to be employed in teaching some little children. I was much gratified, on reaching the end of our journey, to find that we were in the family of my old friend Mrs. Dormer. The little girls had grown considerably, and Jane had overcome all her bad habits, and was à most amiable little girl.

When Gabrielle went to her room, she drew me from her shawl, where I had been placed during the journey, and fixed me in her toiletcushion, where I have remained for some time, and have had leisure to reflect, and to arrange these memoirs. As the silver plate has got considerably worn from me in the course of my travels, I fancy my mistress does not quite like my appearance; for I observe, in dressing, she always selects my younger companions. I do not regret this, for I should much grieve to be separated from so kind and amiable a friend.

I have heard that, when the life of a person is published, it is not uncommon to have a picture of his head placed at the beginning of the book, but having discretion enough to know that mine would make a shabby figure, I have procured a picture of my present mistress, taken when she was several years younger, which I have caused to be placed as a frontispiece to this work.

I hope I am now fixed in a quiet retreat, where I shall pass the remainder of my days; but if, by any misfortune, I should again be cast on the world, I shall endeavor to resume the thread of my adventures.

Let every one copy my simplicity and innocence, make every effort in his power to be useful to society, and he may hope to finish his course in an honorable and easy retirement, like mine.

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THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

It was a summer's evening;

Old Kaspar's work was done;
And he, before his cottage door,

Was sitting in the sun;
And near him sported, on the green,
His little grandchild, Wilhelmine:

She saw her brother, Peterkin,

Roll something sinooth and round, Which he, beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found. He came to ask what he had found, Which looked so large, and smooth, and

round.

Old Kaspar took it from the lad,

Who stood expecting by —
And then the old man shook his head,

And, with a natural sigh,
“ 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,” said he,
“ Who fell in the great victory.

“ I find them in the garden ;

There are many hereabout; And often, when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men," said he, “ Were slain in the great victory.”

“ Now tell us what it was about,”

Young Peterkin he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looked up,

With wonder-waiting eyes « Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for."

“ It was the English,” Kaspar cried,

“Who put the French to rout; But what they killed each other for,

I never could find out; But things like this, you know, must be At every famous victory.

“My father had a cottage then,

Yon little stream hard by,
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,

And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
And had not where to lay his head.

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