ADVERTISEMENT.

FOR the purpose of conveying instruction to young people at school, the method of letters from a mother was adopted, as the most natural and convenient, and as the most likely to engage the attention of those for whose use the volume is designed.

It is hoped, the letters of Laura will not be considered as intruders in these pages. While they were intended to render the work somewhat more amusing to the young reader, it will be seen that it was not with a view to her amusement only that they were written.

That the best interests of their young friends -to whom the volume is affectionately dedicated-may be promoted by its perusal, is the sincere wish of the

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.

CORRESPONDENCE,

&c.

My dear, dear Mother,

LETTER I.

DURING the greatest part of my journey yesterday, I employed myself in planning a long letter, which I fully intended to write to you as soon as I arrived. It was chiefly about the pain I felt at parting with you; and although I feel it as much, almost, to-day, as I did yesterday, yet I think you will be better pleased to hear something of my new situation, and how I like Mrs. W.

I shall never forget what I felt, as we drove out of town yesterday morning; however, I determined to keep it all to myself, and thought I had quite dried up my tears; but just as we turned off the common on to the London road, I happened, unfortunately, to look at the milestone, where, you remember, our learned overseers inform us, that "Here end the parish of St. Gregory." So beginning to laugh (as I intended at 1*

VOL. V.

least) at our Suffolk grammar, it turned into a fit of crying, or something between laughing and crying, I scarcely know which. After that, the country was very flat and dull for many miles, and at last I began to grow stupid and sleepy. But I cannot stay now to tell you more about the journey, especially as nothing particular happened all the rest of the way.

We did not arrive here till eight o'clock in the evening, when, after driving quite through a long dullish-looking street, we stopped at Mrs. W.'s gate. It is a red-brick house, the last in the village, and stands in a garden, a little way back from the road, with an immense row of tall poplars before it, looking like so many sentinels. I cannot tell you what I felt as I walked up the gravel walk to the hall door, where Mrs. W. herself stood to receive me. She spoke very kindly, and looked more agreeable than I expected. She first took me into her own parlor, and began to make many inquiries about you and papa, and so on: but I felt so stiff and strange you can't imagine! and I am sure she thought me the stupidest creature; for I could think of nothing in the world to say, but "yes, ma'am," and "no, maʼam;" and so I sat twisting my gloves: till at last she proposed introducing me to the young ladies.

Only five of them are yet come; but fifteen more are expected in a day or two. You cannot

think how forlorn I felt, when I found myself shut up with these five strange girls in the schoolroom. It was then growing quite dusk, so that I could not discern their faces, nor they mine. I could only see that we were in a large room, without any carpet, with a long table set out in the middle, and an immense pair of globes in one corner. I sat down by myself in a window-seat, two of the girls were sitting in the other, whispering to each other; and I observed that one of them leaned forward sometimes to peep at me. The other three were only little ones. I think I never, in my whole life, felt so uncomfortable as I did then. However, it did not last long; for in a few minutes, one of the girls who had been whispering in the window-seat, came and seated herself by me, and spoke in the most free, affectionate manner you can imagine. Her name is Jessy Cooke-a pretty name, isn't it? She said she remembered how miserable she was the first day she came to school, and that she always felt a great deal for new girls; and she added, which I thought very kind, that she had never felt so much for any one as for me. I thanked her, and said that I did, indeed, feel rather uncomfortable, as I had never left my dear father and mother before, and as I was not much accustomed to see strangers. "Strangers! that's a cold word," said she; “ 'you must not apply it to me, indeed you must not!" and then she took