r I
think Miss Kingsley's present occupation is proportionate to her
abilities, I should answer 'no.' She would herself admit that it was
hack-work,--though, mind you, even hack-work can be redeemed by an
artistic spirit, as she has so adequately explained to you. All young
women have not independent fortunes, and such as are without means are
obliged to take whatever they can find to do in the line of their
professions. I agree with your implication that society items do not
constitute literature, but they are stepping stones to higher things.
Which is the more creditable, pray, to collect and chronicle the social
customs of the age in which you live, foolish as they may be, or to be
one of the giddy and frivolous creatures whose doings are thus compiled
as a warning to posterity, or to excite its jeers? The one is work,
earnest though humble; the other, a sheer dissipation of the energies of
life."

I felt that this was aimed at me; but as I made no response, Aunt Agnes
continued:--

"Do not mistake my meaning now, and say that I wish you to become a
collector of fashionable information. On the contrary, I should much
regret to see you anything of the kind. By the very circumstance that
Providence has given you the means to pick and choose, you are marked
out for work of a less superficial order. But you must not under-value
others who are less able to consult their own preferences. Miss Kingsley
is a young woman of decided capabilities for original composition. Mr.
Spence has spoken to me of her in terms of the highest praise. Because
she is obliged for her support to cater to the popular taste for social
intelligence, it by no means follows that she does not employ her spare
hours to better advantage. I shall not violate any confidences I may
have received, in saying that Miss Kingsley is capable of literary
production of a high order."

"But," said I after a moment's silence, "you cannot approve of the
custom of putting the private affairs of people into print, Aunt Agnes?"

"It is preferable at least to wasting the best years of one's life in
fashionable folly," she replied with some asperity.

As I saw it would be hopeless to pursue the conversation on this head
without danger of further disagreement, I rose to take my leave. But
when I stooped to kiss her, she took me by the hand and said with much
seriousness, but with a purpose to be kindly,--

"I have much greater hopes, Virginia, I frankly confess, re