into a brick-floored parlour by a plain-
featured, light-haired woman—the English
teacher. Here, in state, sat Madame Freschon,
in a cashmere wrapper with a lace
bonnet-de-nuit on her head, and over that a
cambric handkerchief. She had just woke up
from a nap, and looked as dignified as it was
possible for a little, stout lady to look under
any circumstance. I thought her very
comfortable and kind in manner. She kissed us
all on both sides of our faces, chatted in French
with the Joneses, and then dismissed them
to their companions; me, as a stranger she
detained to ask questions, in broken English,
and to give me a little encouragement. I had
some coffee with her; then she rang her
bell twice, a summons which brought
Mademoiselle Laure, a sort of half-boarder, into the
presence. To her care madame consigned me,
having first repeated the double kiss, and
wished me "a good rest."

Mademoiselle Laure was a taciturn person,
who carried a key to unlock a certain green
gate which cut off communication between
the second and third stories of the house.
She led me up a wide staircase and passed
some doors whence issued a hum of girls;
then up again, until we reached a great room
containing eight beds, separated into
compartments with little white curtains. Across
this room were two stands of basins, and from
the roof depended a lamp, which my
conductress lighted. She then guided me into one
of the compartments, unlooped the curtains;
and, notifying that I must manage as I could
for night-clothes—as our boxes had not come
—left me in privacy. Everything was white
and exquisitely clean, from the boards of the
floor to the wainscot; which rose on three
sides of the bed to within a couple of yards
of the ceiling. I rather liked the aspect of
things in general: but, O! how hard the
mattress was. I ascertained afterwards that
it was stuffed with straw. Madame considers
straw mattresses wholesome; I dare say
they are, for I remember no inconvenience
after the first night.

I was in that state of active wakefulness
when every sense is alert. The distant buzz
of voices, the occasional clapping of doors, and
at last a rush—a scutter—a scamper of
hundreds of feet up the stairs. The girls were
coming to bed. One torrent poured into the
dortoir—more poured off in all directions. A
silence fell as the great door was shut, and
a voice cries out for order. In a minute,
appeared in my division a girl who talked
to herself in whispers—she was repeating
a lesson—she undressed and lay down beside
me, first taking the kindly precaution to
cover me up well. In five minutes the lamp
was extinguished, and a quarter of an hour
after, all the dortoir seemed asleep, but
myself.

A noisy bell awoke us at five to the dim,
cold, lamp-light again, and everybody turned
out in an instant; I, with the rest, bent for
the present on exercising my imitative
faculty, and doing what I saw others do. At
six the bell rang again, and all rushed
downstairs—along the corridor—out at a glass-
door—across a little court, and into a detached
building which was the classe. There were
between seventy and eighty girls, chiefly
French, but with a sprinkling of English.
These were divided into three classes, each of
which occupied one of the rooms into which
the building was divided by sliding-doors.
There were cold, comfortless-looking stoves in
the centre of each; an estrade for the
teacher at the upper end, and down either
side benches fixed to the walls, with desks
divided by panels at each seat, a box for
books overhead, and a narrow ledge fastened
to the floor, on which to rest the feet. When
seated in these boxes or stalls we could not
overlook each other without rising, which
was forbidden under a penalty. Every girl's
desk had an inkstand and a socket for a candle
fixed in it.

I was drafted into the youngest class; a
place was assigned to me, and a simple lesson
given me to learn. Rather subdued by the
raw chill of the morning and the solitariness
of being amongst so many busy, indifferent
strangers, I was glad enough to hide in my
box, and watch the curious effect of all those
dim flaring candles in the dawn, and the odd
shadows flittering on the whitewashed walls.
At half-past seven the doors were opened,
and the English girls being collected in one
room, prayers were hurriedly read by the
English teacher; the same ceremony was,
meantime, gone through by the French.
Then we filed across the court, to breakfast
in a large bare apartment, called le réfectoire.
A benedicite was said standing, and then we
scrambled into our respective seats, the tables
the extending twice the length of the room, with
benches at either side. On sitting down I
observed that all the plates on my side were
furnished with three tartines a-piece, while
those opposite were empty. Down the centre
of the table were placed, at intervals, wooden
trenchers, with high-piled slices of bread and
butter. The meaning of those pieces was no
mystery to me. I had heard of stinting, but
had no intention of submitting to it in my
own person; so I stretched out my audacious
little paw, and took possession of a tartine
from the trencher nearest to me. If I had
fired a pistol I could not have made a greater
explosion. All the little girls immediately
began to vociferate unintelligibly. Mademoiselle
Laure gesticulated, and a person opposite
presented my plate with the three
tartines close before my eyes, and enforced
some rule very emphatically, by rapping my
fingers with it. I took a bite out of my
piece, and looked round mildly, which
increased the clamour tenfold, whereupon Miss
Knipe was appealed to. She came down
upon me with great severity of countenance,
and explained that girls under fifteen being