uraged by the fact that that clever woman was
herself strongly opposed to innovation, and remarked every Sunday that
Mr. Crewe had preached an 'excellent discourse'. Poor Mary Dunn dreaded
the moment when school-hours would be over, for then she was sure to be
the butt of those very explicit remarks which, in young ladies' as well
as young gentlemen's seminaries, constitute the most subtle and delicate
form of the innuendo. 'I'd never be a Tryanite, would you?' 'O here comes
the lady that knows so much more about religion than we do!' 'Some people
think themselves so very pious!'

It is really surprising that young ladies should not be thought competent
to the same curriculum as young gentlemen. I observe that their powers of
sarcasm are quite equal; and if there had been a genteel academy for
young gentlemen at Milby, I am inclined to think that, notwithstanding
Euclid and the classics, the party spirit there would not have exhibited
itself in more pungent irony, or more incisive satire, than was heard in
Miss Townley's seminary. But there was no such academy, the existence of
the grammar-school under Mr. Crewe's superintendence probably
discouraging speculations of that kind; and the genteel youths of Milby
were chiefly come home for the midsummer holidays from distant schools.
Several of us had just assumed coat-tails, and the assumption of new
responsibilities apparently following as a matter of course, we were
among the candidates for confirmation. I wish I could say that the
solemnity of our feelings was on a level with the solemnity of the
occasion; but unimaginative boys find it difficult to recognize
apostolical institutions in their developed form, and I fear our chief
emotion concerning the ceremony was a sense of sheepishness, and our
chief opinion, the speculative and heretical position, that it ought to
be confined to the girls. It was a pity, you will say; but it is the way
with us men in other crises, that come a long while after confirmation.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing
but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they
are gone.

But, as I said, the morning was sunny, the bells were ringing, the ladies
of Milby were dressed in their Sunday garments.

And who is this bright-looking woman walking with hasty step along
Orchard Street so early, with a large nosegay in her hand? Can it be
Janet Dempster, on whom we looked with such deep pit