“My mother, Miss,” answered the child; “but the other is done the best, because I did some of this.” “Should you like to have a new one?” said the other young lady. “I think, dear Amelia,” added she, addressing her companion, “this little creature would do very well for one of them.” “But do you think she could learn the verses?” said Amelia. “I dare say she could: I would try to teach her myself.” “You, Louisa! What would your mamma say?” “My mamma would have no objection, I am sure; for she often takes me with her to the Sunday-school, and then I sometimes hear the children say their hymns.” “Willy goes to the Sunday-school,” interrupted the little girl; “and he taught me a hymn; and when he gets a new frock for me, I am to go too.” “Come,” said Miss Amelia, “we must not stay here; my mamma does not allow me to visit the cottagers, she has such a terror of infection. You know I am an only child, and much depends on my life,” added she, with a mixture of importance and affected languor. “That is true,” said Louisa, “but you know my mamma has plenty of us, and she says we must all be useful, for that is the only good of living at all. However, what do you decide? Shall I prepare the poor child or not?” “Just as you like—with all my heart,” returned Amelia, in a tone that indicated her heart had nothing to do with it. “Well, then, I will ask mamma,” said Louisa; and away they both went, without saying any thing more to Peggy. I must here beg leave to anticipate some part of my history, for the purpose of informing my readers, what I afterwards learned respecting these two young ladies. Amelia Wyndham was, as she said, an only child, and heiress to immense property. Her father had died when she was an infant, and her mother, on whom the entire management of her had devolved, indulged her to excess. Misguided affection had some share in producing such unwise conduct, but pride had a still greater. She imagined, that because her daughter would possess ample means to gratify all her fancies, she need not be denied any thing; and because riches and noble descent confer importance, and induce submission, she need not be taught obedience or humility, therefore, was never to be contradicted. It seems, however, that Amelia’s mother forgot that there are enjoyments which neither rank nor wealth can confer; for I have observed, that, though rich or proud people may excite fear, they cannot command esteem or respects—tributes which belong to the virtuous only. I thought Willy and his little sister much more to be admired than this young lady. Besides, they appeared much happier than she, which I supposed was the consequence of their being more useful. However, lest I appear tedious, I will return to Miss Amelia.