y, it passed to and embraced every object that was dear
to her--her favorite books, her favorite playthings, and her favorite
companions. Among the latter, without a single rival, stood her young
friend, Alice Goodwin, who was then about her own age. Never was the
love of sisters greater or more beautiful than that which knit the
innocent hearts of those two girls together. Their affections, in short,
were so dependent upon each other that separation and absence became a
source of anxiety and uneasiness to each. Neither of them had a sister,
and in the fervor of their attachment, they entered into a solemn
engagement that each of them should consider herself the sister of the
other. This innocent experiment of the heart--for such we must consider
it in these two sisterless girls--was at least rewarded by complete
success. A new affinity was superadded to friendship, and the force of
imagination completed what the heart begun.

Next to Agnes was Alice Goodwin awarded a place in Mr. Hamilton's
heart. 'Tis true he had nieces; but in consequence of the bitter and
exasperating temper of their mother, who was neither more nor less than
an incendiary among her relations, he had not spoken to her for
years; and this fast occasioned a comparative estrangement between
the families. Sometimes, however, her nieces and she visited, and were
always upon good terms; but Agnes's heart had been preoccupied; and even
if it had not, the heartless predictions of her aunt, who entertained
her with the cheering and consoling information that "she had death in
her face," and that "she knew from the high color of her cheek that
she would soon follow her mother," would have naturally estranged
the families. Now, of this apprehension, above all others, it was the
father's wish that Agnes should remain ignorant; and when she repeated
to him, with tears in her eyes, the merciless purport of her aunt's
observations, he replied, with a degree of calm resentment which was
unusual to him, "Agnes, my love, let not anything your aunt may say
alarm you in the least; she is no prophetess, my dear child. Your life,
as is that of all his creatures, is in the hands of God who gave it. I
know her avaricious and acrimonious disposition--her love of wealth, and
her anxiety to aggrandize her family. As it is, she will live to regret
the day she ever uttered those cruel words to you, my child. You shall
visit at your uncle's no more. Whenever the other members of