something from the Bible, and commenting upon it, or questioning us
regarding our ideas of what she read. She often selected the character
of David, and was persistent in her efforts to explain and reconcile
the discrepancies in the history of the royal Son of Israel.

"Miss _C._ Morgeson, we will call you," she said, in our first
interview; "the name of Cassandra is too peculiar."

"My Grandfather Locke liked the name; my sister's is Veronica; do you
like that better?"

"It is of no consequence in the premises what your sister may be
named," she replied, running her eyes over me. "What will she study,
Miss Warren?"

Aunt Mercy's recollections of my studies were dim, and her knowledge
of my school days was not calculated to prepossess a teacher in my
favor; but after a moment's delay, she said: "What you think best."

"Very well," she answered; "I will endeavor to fulfill my Christian
duty toward her. We will return to the school-room."

We had held the conversation in the porch, and now Aunt Mercy gave me
a nod of encouragement, and bidding Miss Black "Good day," departed,
looking behind her as long as possible. I followed my teacher. As she
opened the door forty eyes were leveled at me; my hands were in my way
suddenly; my feet impeded my progress; how could I pass that wall of
eyes? A wisp of my dry, rough hair fell on my neck and tickled it; as
I tried to poke it under my comb, I glanced at the faces before me.
How spirited and delicate they were! The creatures had their heads