enemies; bless t curse you; do good to t e you and despitefully use you.”

    “t do; I should bless her son John, which is impossible.”

    In urn, o explain, and I proceeded forto pour out, in my oale of my sufferings and resentments. Bitter and truculent ,  reserve or softening.

    iently to ted s shing.

    “ell,” I asked impatiently, “is not Mrs. Reed a ed, bad woman?”

    “So you, no doubt; because you see, s of cer, as Miss Scatc ely you remember all so you!  a singularly deep impression ice seems to ! No ill-usage so brands its record on my feelings. ould you not be ried to forget y, togete emotions it excited? Life appears to me too s to be spent in nursing animosity or registering  be, one and all, burdened s in t time , ting off our corruptible bodies;   and t, pure as  tor to inspire ture:  urn; pero be communicated to some being o pass tions of glory, from to brigo t rary, be suffered to degenerate from man to fiend? No; I cannot believe t: I augion; but in o ends o all: it makes Eternity a rest—a mig a terror and an abyss. Besides, inguis , degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crusoo loo the end.”

    tle loalk to me, but rato converse s. S alloation: a monitor, a great rougly came up, exclaiming in a strong Cumberland accent—

    “ go and put your drae, I’ll tell Miss Scatco come and look at it!”

    ting up, obeyed tor  reply as  delay.