fright; but that was no fault of Catti’s; people should break in their horses properly, and curates’ wives should learn to ride and keep their seats better. Besides, the alledged uproar was the greatest evidence in her favor, as it proved the tenderness of her heart in not correcting her scholars—a quality more valued by their maternal parents than any other that could possibly be substituted; and in their appreciation of this prime desideratum, they omitted to enquire too minutely into her other qualifications for a governess. Fastidious parents, to be sure, might have insisted that she could read, at least; while others more lenient, would have suggested the necessity of being able to spell, or at any rate, to know her letters: but poor Catti could not have passed such a rigid ordeal in either instance, had she been put to it. Yet that very deficiency which might have troubled a weaker mind, was to her a great source of satisfaction, as she always hugged herself warmly in the gratifying recollection that no person could accuse her, in the words of Festus to Paul, “Too much learning has made thee mad:” and with unexampled liberality she determined that the rising generation entrusted to her care, should participate to the utmost in these her negative felicitous attainments. Many of Catti’s pupils had been taken by their wise and considerate mothers out of the curate’s school, fearful that his severity would break their hearts; and having there learnt their letters and a little spelling, they kept possession at least of what they had acquired, by teaching other children, which flattered their childish vanity, while it served their mistress, who, like a sage general that stands aloof from the broil of battle, takes to himself the credit of success, while the real operators are forgotten. Thus, in time, with the powerful support of the matrons of Tregaron, who took the lead of their spouses, and directed the taste and opinions of the clod-hopping community, Catti’s school became an alarming rival to the curate’s. Teachers, like all other scientific persons, must have their own systems; and as our heroine’s was very original, though perhaps not entirely peculiar to herself, with a view of communicating a benefit to others less enlightened, who follow her avocations, we shall treat the reader, once for all, with a solitary specimen of her method. “Come here, little Gwenny Cadwgan,” said Catti one day, “Come here, my little pretty buttercup, and say your lesson, if you can, but if you can’t never mind, I won’t beat or scold you.” Gwenny came forward, bobbed a curtsey, and, while her mistress broomed the mud from little Twm’s breeches, and combed his head on the back of the bellows, began her lesson. _Gwenny_.—a, b, hab. _Catti_.—There’s a good maaid! _Gwenny_.—e, b, heb. _Catti_.—There’s a good maaid! _Gwenny_.—o, b, hob. _Catti_.—There’s a good maaid! _Gwenny_.—i, b,—I can’t tell.