_A New Pupil_.

One day, exactly three weeks after her last visit to my room, as I was
sitting with my three pupils in the schoolroom, Lady Alice entered, and
began to look on the bookshelves as if she wanted some volume. After a
few moments, she turned, and, approaching the table, said to me, in an
abrupt, yet hesitating way.

"Mr. Campbell, I cannot spell. How am I to learn?"

I thought for a moment, and replied: "Copy a passage every day, Lady
Alice, from some favourite book. Then, if you allow me, I shall be most
happy to point out any mistakes you may have made."

"Thank you, Mr. Campbell, I will; but I am afraid you will despise me,
when you find how badly I spell."

"There is no fear of that," I rejoined. "It is a mere peculiarity. So
long as one can _think_ well, spelling is altogether secondary."

"Thank you; I will try," she said, and left the room. Next day, she
brought me an old ballad, written tolerably, but in a school-girl's
hand. She had copied the antique spelling, letter for letter.

"This is quite correct," I said; "but to copy such as this will not
teach you properly; for it is very old, and consequently old-fashioned."

"Is it old? Don't we spell like that now? You see I do not know anything