The very streets were sacred in my sight, that I had trodden from childhood, but my liberty was more precious to my heart than scenes of old associations, and to gain one the other must be sacrificed.  There was no hesitating now:  I was on the tread-mill of fate, and must proceed, or fall and be crushed beneath.

And here again I repeat, what I have said so recently:  “On what slight pivots our destiny often turns!—­through what small channels Providence works its wondrous ways!”

A pair of shoes had been sent home for me that day, which still lay on the table, wrapped and corded.  In truth, they came very opportunely; “I shall want these soon,” I thought, as I examined the strong and elastic bootees, which had been made for me in view of my morning walks, a part of dear Dr. Pemberton’s regimen, which I strenuously and advantageously carried out.

As I spoke, the paper in which they had been enveloped rustled down on the floor by my side.  I stooped, languidly, to pick it up, merely from a sense of order, and my eye fell on a long column, headed “Wanted,” and, almost for lack of resolution to withdraw it, wandered down its paragraphs, step by step.

It was a Democratic paper, such as was never patronized by Evelyn—­herself a zealous conservative in politics, as our father had been before us—­and, as I cared little for newspaper-reading, I had never suggested a subscription to any sheet that she did not fancy, although I inclined to democracy.

I was somewhat amused by the quaintness of some of the advertisements of this sheet for the people, that style of literature being new to me; and found myself smiling over the perfections set forth as necessary, by the paragons of the earth, in both wife and servant, when I came to a dead stand.  Here was the very thing I should have selected, could I have chosen my own destination instead of depending on chance (as if, indeed, there were such a thing possible with God—­the predestinator of the universe), or necessity (is the name a much better one as applied to the all-seeing Deity?), or fate (a more comprehensive but little less-abused term, perhaps), to do this for me!

The advertisement ran thus, and quite fascinated me with its eccentricity, as well as congeniality to my condition: 

“A gentleman and lady, now sojourning for a short time at the Mansion House, wish to employ, immediately, for the benefit of their children, an instructress, who must be, imprimis, a lady—­and young; secondly, soundly constituted and well educated; thirdly, a good reader, and able to teach elocution, and entertain a circle; fourthly, willing to reside with cheerfulness on a Southern plantation; fifthly, content with a moderate modicum as salary.  None other need apply—­no references given or asked.  Inquire for Somnus.”