the vision; the fanciful and fragile mind that every one had despised
and undervalued might, perhaps, do greater things than Jane's clear
head and busy hands. Never had her ideas flowed more rapidly, or her
words arranged themselves so well. She began by bewailing her own sad
fate, the loss of fortune, and the desertion of friends; and the
sincerity of her feelings made it feel like an inspiration. Things that
appeared to her to be new thoughts crowded on her, and before Jane's
return she had finished a short poem very much to her own satisfaction.

She would scarcely wait to hear the result of her sister's visit to
Miss Thomson, but impetuously and affectionately made Jane sit down to
listen to her lay.

"I wish I were a good judge, Elsie. It seems to me to be very pretty.
Here and there I would alter a word; but, on the whole, I think
you have succeeded," was the welcome criticism.

"You think so; and you are so prosaic. I feel as if I could go on for
ever writing. Don't you think you have seen worse verses printed, not
in a newspaper, but in a book?"

"I read so little of that kind of literature; but I am sure you often
read pieces to me, from both newspapers and books, that do not interest
me half so much."

"Oh, Jane, I count so much on your good opinion, because I know that
you will give it honestly, and because I think if I can please you I
may please anybody." And Elsie looked so animated, so joyous, and so
spiritual, that Jane's hopes rose. She, indeed, was no judge of poetry,
but anything that could give courage and hope to her sister's mind must