With some surprise, Miss Damer, in looking over the themes, read the following fable:

“One bleak, cold winter morning, an ass and her foals were loitering upon the edge of a wild common; not a tree was to be seen, and scarcely a bit of herbage for their breakfast to be found. ‘This is a comfortless life!’ said the ass; ‘the winds are chilly, the snow will soon fall, and we have not a shed to cover us! What shall we do? for I fear we shall be lost.’ The ass turned her head, for she heard the tinkling of bells, and saw a shepherd driving sheep from the common. ‘Ah! a happy thought! we will go to Farmer Killwell, and tell our sorrows unto him.’ No sooner said than done; they plodded through miry lanes, waded through shallow brooks, and at length arrived at the farmer’s gate. The tale was soon told. The farmer pitied their piteous case; ‘but,’ said he, ‘idleness bringeth want. Exert yourselves, and you will find friends. Begin a school at once; here are my poultry, my birds, and my young cattle to teach: not a moment is to be lost.’—‘It is a good thing to have a good friend!’ said the ass, as she stalked into the farm-yard. Here she brayed with a most audible voice: ‘Hearken to me, parents and little ones!’ she cried; ‘I am come hither to inspire you all with wisdom.’

“The goose, as wise as a goose can be, stared at the speaker; tossed her head on one side, gave a loud quack, and returned to comfort her goslings, who were fluttering in every direction.

“‘You little ducklings,’ continued the ass, ‘don’t spread your feet so vulgarly. Mrs. Turkey, I have long sighed for the honour of your patronage: the charming little poults, I hope, will gain new beauties from our exertions. Mrs. Barn-fowl, your chickens are too timid; we shall soon teach them to hop with grace. As for these awkward maudlin rabbits, I fear we cannot do any thing with them; and these ill-bred creatures, Mrs. Sow’s progeny, we cannot attempt to teach.’ A sturdy mastiff, who had followed the group of gazers, now barked furiously; dispersed the poultry, pushed Mrs. Sow and her family into the mud; and, spite of Farmer Killwell, drove the ass and her foals out of the farm-yard. A little girl, who was witness to the hubbub, exclaimed, ‘Ah! this is excellent! Mrs. Adair has borrowed a garment from the ass, to teach simple ones wisdom; but she will never teach little girls to love new rules.’”

“Where is the moral to your fable?” asked Miss Damer, with some degree of anger.

“I never thought of the moral; of what use would it be to my theme?” returned Miss Bruce.

“And of what use is any theme or fable without a moral? But I wish to know your motive for writing this ridiculous piece.”

“To vex Mrs. Adair, certainly, because she won’t let me go to my Aunt’s on Thursday.”

“And do you really think that it is in your power to vex Mrs. Adair with this trifling nonsense? You may be assured of this, Miss Bruce, the only notice she will take of this childish, insignificant fable, will be to make you read it to the ladies.”

“I won’t be talked to in this way, though you are my monitress. I will write what I please;” so saying, she snatched the slate from Miss Damer, and in haste rubbed off the words.

“The wisest thing you could do,” said Miss Damer. “Now sit down, and reflect seriously upon your conduct, and then tell me whether you feel quite satisfied with yourself, or whether you are grateful to Mrs. Adair for her care of you, and attention to you. You are the only little girl who has not a mamma: who would be so indulgent, so tender to you, as Mrs. Adair?”

At these words Miss Bruce sobbed violently; but her sorrow was of short duration: “You would vex any thing, Miss Damer, with talking so quietly. I like people to be angry with me, and then I can be angry myself.”

“My dear, I shall not listen to you, so I advise you to cease talking: it is my plan never to argue with unruly little girls. Come, Miss Grey, and Isabella; we will go into the play-ground.”

Isabella whispered to Miss Bruce as she passed her; “do, dear Miss Bruce, be good. Why should you vex Miss Damer when she is so kind to you?” Miss Bruce pushed her companion’s hand from her shoulder, and turned her face to the wall, and there they found her on their return.

When the bell rang for prayers, Miss Bruce sprang across the room to Miss Damer, who was seated, talking to Miss Arden, and throwing her arms round her neck, she exclaimed, “You must indeed forgive me; I cannot sleep unless you say, ‘good night.’”

Miss Damer turned round, and kissed her: “Now, my dear, I hope you will never offend me again.”

“Oh, Miss Damer! I will love you for ever, for forgiving me so soon.” The bell rang, and she hastened out of the room.

“Should you not have been a little more stern?” said Miss Arden.

“My dear friend, ask yourself whether you could be so to a little girl who has no mother.”

Tears started into Miss Arden’s eyes. “I did not think of that.”

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