fully and lovingly.

Old Margaret Gray, when she first came into these parts, had eyes,
and could see. The neighbors said, they had been dimmed by weeping:
be that as it may, she was latterly grown quite blind. "God is very
good to us, child; I can _feel_ you yet." This she would sometimes
say; and we need not wonder to hear, that Rosamund clave unto her
grandmother.

Margaret retained a spirit unbroken by calamity. There was a
principle _within_, which it seemed as if no outward circumstances
could reach. It was a _religious_ principle, and she had taught it to
Rosamund; for the girl had mostly resided with her grandmother from
her earliest years. Indeed she had taught her all that she knew
herself; and the old lady's knowledge did not extend a vast way.

Margaret had drawn her maxims from observation; and a pretty long
experience in life had contributed to make her, at times, a little
_positive:_ but Rosamund never argued with her grandmother.

Their library consisted chiefly in a large family Bible, with notes
and expositions by various learned expositors, from Bishop Jewell
downwards.

This might never be suffered to lie about like other books, but was
kept constantly wrapt up in a handsome case of green velvet, with
gold tassels--the only relic of departed grandeur they had brought
with them to the cottage--everything else of value had been sold off
for the purpose above mentioned.

This Bible Rosamund, when a child, had never dared to open without
permission; and even yet, from habit, continued the custom. Margaret
had parted with none of her _authority_; indeed it was never exerted
with much harshness; and happy was Rosamund, though a girl grown,
when she could obtain leave to read her Bible. It was a treasure too
valuable for an indiscriminate use; and Margaret still pointed out to
her grand-daughter _where to read._

Besides this, they had the "Complete Angler, or Contemplative Man's
Recreation," with cuts--"Pilgrim's Progress," the first part--a
Cookery Book, with a few dry sprigs of rosemary and lavender stuck
here and there between the leaves, (I suppose to point to some of the
old lady's most favorite receipts,) and there was "Wither's Emblems,"
an old book, and quaint. The old-fashioned pictures in this last book
were among the first exciters of the infant Rosamund's curiosity. Her
contemplation had fed upon them in rather older years.

Rosamund had not read many books besides these; or if any, t