’And they not only forgave, but, with love and earnest tears, clasped in their arms the returning sister.  They vied with one another in offices of humble love to the humbled one; and let it be recorded, as an instance of the pure honor of which young hearts are capable, that these facts, known to some forty persons, never, so far as I know, transpired beyond those walls.

    ’It was not long after this that Mariana was summoned home. 
    She went thither a wonderfully instructed being, though in
    ways those who had sent her forth to learn little dreamed of.

’Never was forgotten the vow of the returning prodigal.  Mariana could not resent, could not play false. The terrible crisis, which she so early passed through, probably prevented the world from hearing much of her.  A wild fire was tamed in that hour of penitence at the boarding-school, such as has oftentimes wrapped court and camp in a destructive glow.’

[Footnote A:  Summer on the Lakes, p. 81.]

SELF-CULTURE.

Letters written to the beloved teacher, who so wisely befriended Margaret in her trial-hour, will best show how this high-spirited girl sought to enlarge and harmonize her powers.

’Cambridge, July 11, 1825.—­Having excused myself from accompanying my honored father to church, which I always do in the afternoon, when possible, I devote to you the hours which Ariosto and Helvetius ask of my eyes,—­as, lying on my writing-desk, they put me in mind that they must return this week to their owner.

’You keep me to my promise of giving you some sketch of my pursuits.  I rise a little before five, walk an hour, and then practise on the piano, till seven, when we breakfast.  Next I read French,—­Sismondi’s Literature of the South of Europe,—­till eight, then two or three lectures in Brown’s Philosophy.  About half-past nine I go to Mr. Perkins’s school and study Greek till twelve, when, the school being dismissed, I recite, go home, and practise again till dinner, at two.  Sometimes, if the conversation is very agreeable, I lounge for half an hour over the dessert, though rarely so lavish of time.  Then, when I can, I read two hours in Italian, but I am often interrupted.  At six, I walk, or take a drive.  Before going to bed, I play or sing, for half an hour or so, to make all sleepy, and, about eleven, retire to write a little while in my journal, exercises on what I have read, or a series of characteristics which I am filling up according to advice.  Thus, you see, I am learning Greek, and making acquaintance with metaphysics, and French and Italian literature.

’"How,” you will say, “can I believe that my indolent, fanciful, pleasure-loving pupil, perseveres in such a course?” I feel the power of industry growing every day, and, besides