commodation of a little girl of ten
years old, who in one of the easy chairs is lying back in front of the
fire, with her tiny feet on a bright brass fender. She has a gold
watch in her hand, which is suspended round her neck by a chain of the
same material, and she is playing with it, and with the seals, and
pretty ornaments hung to it, that jingle as she moves her hand. Ever
and anon she glances at the face of the watch.

But life is very easy to her, and the chair is very soft, and her feet
are very warm. At last, however, she gets up and rings a silver bell
that is on the mantel-piece. A servant answers the summons. "It is
time for me to dress, I believe, Annette; the company are expected
to-day at half past six. Has my new frock come home?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Let me look at it."

A delicate blue satin, trimmed with the finest lace, is produced from
a band-box.

"It is very pretty, I think, Annette."

"It is downright beautiful, Miss."

"And so expensive," pursued the little girl whose name was Julia,
"that I don't think any one else I know is likely to imitate it, which
is my greatest comfort!"

And so saying, the rich Miss Julia ---- (an only daughter), whose
comfort seemed to depend on no one else being as comfortable as
herself, commenced her toilet, i.e. her maid both commenced and
finished it for her, for those who can command the unlimited
assistance of servants are apt to be very idle in helping themselves.

"Your Julia looks self-satisfied enough," observed Ianthe, "but I do
not see that this is more like real happiness than my Aurora's face
before the party."

"Perhaps," returned Euphrosyne, "the same remark applies to her as to
Aurora--the age for thoroughly enjoying riches is hardly arrived. You
smile, Ambrosia! Well, we do not yet know your experiment, and you
yourself do not know how it has answered. Take care that our turn for
laughing at you does not soon come!"

Julia was dressed at the end of the half-hour, but not sooner. Her
toilet occupied more time than Aurora's. She could not decide what
ornaments she would wear, and at last getting out of humour with the
"embarras des richesses" she fixed on a necklace which, though
extremely handsome, was scarcely fit for a child. She was neither
pretty nor otherwise, but when good humoured and happy her face, like
that of all other creatures of her innocent time of life, was
attractive and pleasant to behold. Oh, that children did but know
wher