dest as well as
ambitious, so good as well as so gallant, that I would rather die than
disgrace him by empty conceit and unprofitable hopes.

Weston is a very religious fellow, though he does not "cant" at all.
When I was going away to Dartmouth, and he saw me off (for we were
great friends), one of the last things he said to me was, "I say,
don't leave off saying your prayers, you know."

I haven't, and I told him so this last time. I often pray that if ever
I am great I may be good too; and sometimes I pray that if I try hard
to be good God will let me be great as well.

The most wonderful thing was old Rowe's taking a cheap ticket and
coming down to see me last summer. I never can regret my voyage with
him in the _Betsy_, for I did thoroughly enjoy it, though I often
think how odd it is that in my vain, jealous wild-goose chase after
adventures I missed the chance of distinguishing myself in the only
Great Emergency which has yet occurred in our family.

A VERY ILL-TEMPERED FAMILY.

"Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is HE sure to bless?"

_Hymn of the Eastern Church._

CHAPTER I.

A FAMILY FAILING.

We are a very ill-tempered family.

I want to say it, and not to unsay it by any explanations, because I
think it is good for us to face the fact in the unadorned form in
which it probably presents itself to the minds of our friends.

Amongst ourselves we have always admitted it by pieces, as it were, or
in negative propositions. We allow that we are firm of disposition; we
know that we are straightforward; we show what we feel. We have
opinions and principles of our own; we are not so thick-skinned as
some good people, nor as cold-blooded as others.

When two of us quarrelled (and Nurse used to say that no two of us
ever agreed), the provocation always seemed, to each of us, great
enough amply to excuse the passion. But I have reason to think that
people seldom exclaimed, "What grievances those poor children are
exasperated with!" but that they often said, "What terrible tempers
they all have!"

There are five of us: Philip and I are the eldest; we are twins. My
name is Isobel, and I never allow it to be shortened into the ugly
word _Bella_ nor into the still more hideous word _Izzy_, by either
the servants or the children. My aunt Isobel never would, and neither
will I.

"The children" are the other three. They are a good deal younger than
Philip and I, so we have alwa