Frances, in forbearing to enumerate or boast of these things. She
alluded to them but once, and in the slightest and most humble manner.

"These little creatures are too young for us to think of teaching them
anything but plain work at present; but if hereafter any of them should
show a superior genius we can cultivate it properly. Heaven has been
pleased to endow me with the means--at least, our convent says so."

The actions of Sister Frances showed as much moderation as her words; for
though she was strongly tempted to adorn her new dwelling with those
specimens of her skill which had long been the glory of her apartment in
the convent, yet she resisted the impulse, and contented herself with
hanging over the chimney-piece of her schoolroom a Madonna of her own
painting.

The day arrived when she was to receive her pupils in their new
habitation. When the children entered the room for the first time, they
paid the Madonna the homage of their unfeigned admiration. Involuntarily
the little crowd stopped short at the sight of the picture. Some dormant
emotions of human vanity were now awakened--played for a moment about the
heart of Sister Frances--and may be forgiven. Her vanity was innocent
and transient, her benevolence permanent and useful. Repressing the vain-
glory of an artist, as she fixed her eyes upon the Madonna, her thoughts
rose to higher objects, and she seized this happy moment to impress upon
the minds of her young pupils their first religious ideas and feelings.
There was such unaffected piety in her manner, such goodness in her
countenance, such persuasion in her voice, and simplicity in her words,
that the impression she made was at once serious, pleasing, and not to be
effaced. Much depends upon the moment and the manner in which the first
notions of religion are communicated to children; if these ideas be