any lesson there may be hidden under the velvet and jewels and fine
words of your splendid men and women. Now, THIS book is a wonderful
picture of Florence in old times, and the famous people who really
lived are painted in it, and it has a true and clean moral that we
can all see, and one feels wiser and better for reading it. I do
wish you'd leave those trashy things and try something really good."

"I hate George Eliot,--so awfully wise and preachy and dismal! I
really couldn't wade through 'Daniel Deronda,' though 'The Mill on
the Floss' wasn't bad," answered Carrie, with another yawn, as she
recalled the Jew Mordecai's long speeches, and Daniel's meditations.

"I know you'd like this," said Eva, patting her book with an air of
calm content; for she was a modest, common-sense little body, full
of innocent fancies and the mildest sort of romance. "I love dear
Miss Yonge, with her nice, large families, and their trials, and
their pious ways, and pleasant homes full of brothers and sisters,
and good fathers and mothers. I'm never tired of them, and have read
'Daisy Chain' nine times at least."

"I used to like them, and still think them good for young girls,
with our own 'Queechy' and 'Wide, Wide World,' and books of that
kind. Now I'm eighteen I prefer stronger novels, and books by great
men and women, because these are always talked about by cultivated
people, and when I go into society next winter I wish to be able to
listen intelligently, and know what to admire."

"That's all very well for you, Alice; you were always poking over
books, and I dare say you will write them some day, or be a
blue-stocking. But I've got another year to study and fuss over my