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Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses. As a black servant pulled the bell a score

carpet straight to the chandelier.

ats, dear!” said she to her friend. “No, it doesn’t,” said Amelia. “Come in, don’t be frightened. Papa won’t do you any harm.”

Words refuse to tell it. All the servants were there in the hall – all the dear friend – all the young ladies – the dancing-master; and there was such hugging, and kissing, and crying, as no pen can depict.