Lewie had become tired of the loneliness and quiet of his country home, and wished to be among other boys, and particularly to go to the school at which his cousins, the young Whartons, had been placed.  They had lately been home for a vacation, and he had heard much of the fun they enjoyed at school; in comparison with which, his quiet life with his mother, and under the care of his tutor, seemed very tame and dull.  He now became more restive and impatient under control, and seemed determined to weary out his kind tutor, in the hope that he would voluntarily relinquish his charge.  In the meantime, he continued to give his mother no rest on the subject of Dr. Hamilton’s school; and she, poor woman, knew not what course to take, between her desire to please her importunate son, and her dislike to offend Mr. Malcolm.

At last, however, as usual, Lewie conquered; and rushing out of one door, as he saw Mr. Malcolm enter at the other, he left his mother to inform the young minister that he was no longer to be tutor there.  As far as his own comfort was concerned, this dismissal was a great relief to Mr. Malcolm; but, as he told Mrs. Elwyn, he feared that her troubles would not be lessened, but rather increased, by sending Lewie to a public school.  He had never been much among other boys; and he would find his own inclinations crossed many times a day, not only by teachers, but by schoolmates, who would have no more idea of always giving up their own will than Lewie himself had, and constant trouble might be the result.

All this Mrs. Elwyn admitted; but what could she do?  She was like a reed in the wind before the might of Lewie’s determination, and he knew it.  Ah! she was learning already that “A child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame” and sorrow; and it was with the deepest mortification that she was obliged to confess that she had suffered the golden hours of infancy to slip by, without acquiring over her son’s mind that influence which every mother should and may possess.  The opportunity, alas! was now lost forever.  Her son had neither respect for her authority, or regard for her wishes.

XI.

Ruth Glen.

   “The more I looked, I wondered more—­
   And while I scanned it o’er and o’er
   A moment gave me to espy
   A trouble in her strong black eye;
   A remnant of uneasy light,
   A flash of something over bright;
   Not long this mystery did detain
   My thoughts—­she told in pensive strain
   That she had borne a heavy yoke,
   Been stricken by a two-fold stroke;
   Ill health of body; and had pined
   Beneath worse ailments of the mind.”

   WORDSWORTH.