glorious "Excursions." I had read Hawthorne's "Tales" more times than he has "told" them; and Barbauld, Martineau, and Sedgwick, were my constant friends. Who could not feel ennobled by such reputable company? Who could not enlarge her library, if not with new books, with very worthy old ones, in new and more appreciated readings?

I found that even my afflictions, severe as they had been, were not without their blessing. I needed the very discipline which they were sent to give. Orphanage and poverty had early promoted a thrifty, though difficult, culture on one zone of my life. That service of housework with Lydia Buxton, and those wise counsels and faithful Quaker "exercises," brought forth plants on another zone, gave me a little breadth of character, nourished a few loves and capabilities, and prepared me to bear the fruits of a rugged womanhood, while clouds might rise and tempests fall.

I made a few more acquaintances, and knew more about those I saw and met on first coming to Merrimack. I was still at Mrs. Dorlon's, and continued to be amused to see how my kind old friend enjoyed her fat cheeks, her double chin, and rounded form: how more and more ambitious she was in stately caps and dresses, how loudly she talked, and how the sweet persuasion grew in her heart that she resembled Martha Washington. I was still very intimate with my friend Milly, though her tastes were running wild, and I feared she would become a complete slave to fancies and impulses which every sensible girl resisted and despised. Agnes Newman and my other

friends were still as dear as ever. And, as a matter of course, we secured the regards of a number of individuals who moved in the highest circles, which were traced through aristocratic and through humble life.

There was the daughter of one fine Merrimack family, whose friendship was a prize. It was Julia Warden. The reader may remember the first time I saw her, which was during my first week in the mill, as she passed our way with Mr. and Miss Downs and others. The next time I met her was on an evening walk by the river, when we had an introduction. Her parents were in easy circumstances, and lived in a beautiful Tudor cottage on the banks of the river. They were intelligent people, and, having a taste for horticulture and landscape gardening, they had selected one of the most charming sites I ever saw, and adorned their grounds with every ornament which art out of nature could bring. So Julia from her cradle was trained to the finest tastes, and inspired with great and womanly sentiments.

She was a singular looking girl, and yet, to an intelligent eye, she was rather beautiful. She had a slender form, her movements were awkward, and she stooped to an ungraceful attitude. She had the lightest brown hair, a warm but white and delicate complexion, and lips that you often saw apart as if in wonder or abstraction. Her face was exquisitely chiselled, and her eyes, if they were blue, and expanded almost to her temples, were full of expression and light. She had peculiarities of taste that impressed me very much. Her dress was the plainest-a shilling print became her better than a brocade would

some girls; she had no curls; but seldom did I see her, either in summer or winter, when she did not wear a fresh flower, either rose, violet, or white jessamine, sweetly blooming in her plainly-braided hair.

I have subsequently thought that Julia Warden must have enjoyed what they call second sight, and been able to discern truth and beauty blindfolded; and since I have read Mr. Tennyson's "Princess," I have been reminded of her by his description of Melissa

"With her lips apart

And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes,
As bottom agates seem to wave and float
In crystal currents of clear morning seas."

Born to conditions that were almost the contrast of those which left me an orphan in an humble sphere; blest with means and opportunities, independent of anxiety and care, Julia Warden had attained a high and accomplished womanhood. She had passed through schools in which the lowly are seldom placed; she had studied human nature, on many sides from personal observation, and on all sides in books. She had travelled and enjoyed sojournings, and she stood, at twenty, on a summit of excellence which too few even of the fortunate classes attain.

Julia Warden was a welcome guest in the homes of the wealthy, for they coveted the wealth of her rich mind and heart. She loved to make friends of the factory girls, and she gave us favors which cheered our best endeavors, and won our warm esteem. But she appeared among us

with no patronizing airs, and she sought our regards with

out desiring our worship. We would have despised her if she had done otherwise, and despised ourselves if we had thought ourselves so weak and low as to accept a patronizing favor. She had sense enough to know that our common sense would spurn such an insult, and feel above the person who had the weakness to feel above us. She would meet us half way; she would come more than half way, if we were diffident; she would come among us for those mutual improvements in which she expected to receive as much as she gave. She was favored in the outward conditions of fortune: we might be more favored in the inward riches of the soul. She had friends and admirers among the most respectable people on earth: we might have more admirers in heaven. She excelled in learning we might excel in natural capabilities. She had more books than she could study as she ought: we might have more readings of the few best authors. If she desired, she could adorn her person with ornaments of dress too costly for us to purchase; while many of our number might already outshine her in the ornaments of grace and goodness. We honored her endowments: she honored our endeavors. We sometimes repined for being excluded from her privileges: she reverenced our employments, and respected those among us most who stood on the dignity of labor, and insisted on respect. She and we were daughters of that infinite Father whose estate is the universe, whose lofty halls have the sun and stars to light them, whose image and spirit all beings possess, and in whose mansion we are all to meet for a family jubilee, and enjoy the same privilege of holy worship and peace.

We all, therefore, had an affluent Father; we all could boast the noble blood of which God made presidents' daughters and factory girls. And Julia Warden would have betrayed a vain ignorance and folly had she met and mingled with us, thinking it a patronage or condescension, and we of course would have shown ourselves fools, by acting as her inferiors, any further we were inferior in the virtues and graces of noble womanhood; or by respecting ourselves less than she respected us.