limited to three tartines, I must submit to
the rule also.

"But Uncle Sampson said I was to have as
much to eat as I wanted," said I with a coolness
worthy of a better occasion.

The name of Uncle Sampson, dear harmless
old man, acted like a spell. I looked so resolute
and quiet, that everybody fancied some
special exemption, in the shape of double
pay, lurked behind, and I was permitted to
help myself. The circumstance being
reported to Madame, she talked to me about it
in private; but I wisely held on to Uncle
Sampson, and prevailed, which caused Madame
to say I was a child of a republican spirit. I
am proud to say that this prompt rebellion
of mine led to the abrogation of the law of
stinting.

Breakfast over, we were all rung into
school again, where we stayed until twelve,
when, during an hour's recreation, the girls
went where they would—chiefly into the
court, where there was a pale wintry sunshine.
I preferred the classe, where I could
think how much nicer it was being at home
with Uncle Sampson and Aunt Martha,
than here where nobody cared for me.
Presently in came a child crying, with a
book and slate. She sat down on the floor,
and began to write with laborious haste,
sobbing all the time. She was a pretty, fair-
haired girl, younger than myself, and
somehow I thought I would help her if I could.
My offer was accepted eagerly. She had a
page De l'Histoire Ancienne to copy out
twice, a task which I accomplished speedily.
She was English.

"How fast you write! I shall often get
you to do my lines for me," said the little
damsel cheerfully. I answered nothing; so
she took from her pocket two apples, and,
after a critical examination of their merits,
offered me the smaller one.

"No. thank you; I don't want your apples.
Keep them for yourself," said I, putting her
hand aside. She promptly restored the fruit
to her pocket, and scudded off to show her
task. I heard her afterwards telling some of
the other girls how I had helped her. She
laughed at me, and expressed it as her
opinion that I was rather silly. If I had
demanded the larger apple for my services she
would have respected me. The wisdom of
this world comes to us by instalments; it
would be a deadly moral poison if imbibed in
large quantities.

I arrived at school on Thursday. The
next day was Friday—meagre day. The
meagre days were very frequent at Madame
Freschon's. At dinner, I was, like the rest,
helped to sorrel-soup, which appeared to me
to be an infusion of chopped grass in hot
water, flavoured and enriched with a
suspicion of vinegar. It was detestable.
Madame, observing that I did not touch it after
the first spoonful, hoped I should like it
by-and-by, as it was an acquired taste—not,
however, to be acquired in a day, or until the
youthful appetite has a very sharp edge to it.
Then followed dishes of haricot-beans, with
hard-boiled eggs sliced and strewn sparsely
over them. Vinegar also predominated here,
and I suspected oil, but I did not try; for I
was sure they would be as unpalateable as
the soup. I dined, therefore, upon bread,
which I steeped in water, and sprinkled with
pepper and salt. I fancied it had quite a
perfume of sausages. This was my Lenten
fare as long as I stayed at Madame Freschon's.
On other days we had soup, and the meat
from which it was made; sometimes potatoes;
and always bread, in unlimited quantities.
On Sundays, a small glass of vin ordinaire
and a finger-biscuit closed the mid-day
repast. Once, I remember, Madame
proposed to give a Yorkshire dish, in
compliment to me, a native of that county. We
looked forward to it anxiously. The
festivity came off on my birthday. The
dish was this! a huge lump of fat bacon
boiled in a copper with cabbages, and all
served up in one nauseous mess upon a
gigantic dish. The French girls despised me
for belonging to barbarians, who called that
food; and I got quite into a rage at their
taunts. Madame's treat was a grand failure,
which was always remembered against me as
a personal injury.

There was a collation at five o'clock, when
each girl received two tartines. The supper
was at eight, and consisted of the same as
breakfast, namely, milk and water,
facetiously styled bleu céleste, and bread and
butter. The interval between collation and
supper was, in winter, spent in the réfectoire,
where we sewed, played loto, or read.

Before we left the table, when the supper
was concluded, Madame Duvivier, the head
teacher, rose in her place, and asked, in an
audible tone, "Qui a le signom négligent?"
—"Moi, Madame," made answer the unlucky
wearer of the untidy badge.—"Qui a le
signom Anglais?"

"Moi, Madame," responded some English
girl, convicted of employing her mother-
tongue instead of that she came to learn.

"Qui a le signom mauvais Françaîs?"

"Moi, Madame," replied a French girl,
found guilty of some grammatical lapse.

Each of these delinquents had to commit
to memory thirty lines of French prose.
These demands were made thrice daily; so
that if the unfortunate possessors of the
marks did not contrive to pass them, their
lines accumulated fast before the end of the
week, as I know to my cost; for I nearly
always had one or more. On Saturday, all
arrears had to be made up, that day being
one of recreation or work, according as we
were idle girls, or the reverse.

Penalties were numerous: for being down
late; for upsetting ink; for tearing any
book; for speaking English; for speaking
bad French; and, at certain seasons, for