“Who taught you that, sir?” asked Betty, trying to keep her countenance. “I heard Mrs. Churchill say so to my papa,” returned the boy. “So now, there’s a good sister. Do pray let me go!” “If you say your tasks well, and will promise to be obedient to Harriet and to keep away from the river, and not touch the basket of eggs.” Eugene was ready for any number of promises; and Harriet, seeing there was no escape for her, went off with Aurelia to put on their little three-cornered muslin handkerchiefs and broad-brimmed straw hats, while Eugene repeated his tasks, namely, a fragment of the catechism, half a column of spelling from the _Universal Spelling-Book_, and (Betty’s special pride) his portion of the _Orbis Sensualium Pictus_ of Johannes Amos Comenius, the wonderful vocabulary, with still more wonderful “cuts,” that was then the small boys path to Latinity. The Eagle, _Aquila_, the King of Birds, _Rex Avium_, looketh at the Sun, _intuetur Solem_, as indeed he could hardly avoid doing, since in the “cut” the sun was within a hairsbreath of his beak, while his claws were almost touching a crow (_Corvus_) perched on a dead horse, to exemplify how _Aves Raptores_ fed on carrion. Thanks to Aurelia’s private assistance, Eugene knew his lessons well enough for his excitement not to make him stumble so often as to prevent Betty’s pronouncing him a good boy, and dispensing with his copy, sum, piece, and reading, until the evening. These last were very tough affairs, the recitation being from Shakespeare, and the reading from the _Spectator_. There were no children’s books, properly so called, except the ballads, chap-books brought round by pedlers, often far from edifying, and the plunge from the horn-book into general literature was, to say the least of it, bracing. The Delavie family was cultivated for the time. French had been brought home as a familiar tongue, though _Telemaque_, Racine, and _Le Grand Cyrus_ were the whole library in that language; and there was not another within thirty miles. On two days in the week the sisters became Mesdemoiselles Elisabeth, Henriette, and Aurelie, and conversed in French over their spinning, seams, lace, or embroidery; nor was Aurelia yet emancipated from reciting Racine on alternate days with Milton and Shakespeare.