and his wife, is about the same age as the latter, though she is still quite a child in spirits and careless gaiety. The fat gouvernante, who never leaves her side for a moment, cannot with all her efforts drill her into the demure propriety of deportment Italian girls are taught to assume. There is an irrepressible vivacity in the way she flirts her green fan, clasps and unclasps her gilt prayer-book, and taps her tiny foot impatiently on the pavement, whilst the old woman carefully closes and locks the door after her. She, too, has a fan and mass-book carefully wrapped up in a white handkerchief, so no doubt she is going to escort her young lady to vespers at the Ponte. Whilst she is still fumbling with the key, the girl has darted across to the fountain, and lightly sprinkles a beautiful bouquet she carries, probably intended to be laid before some shrine ; this proceeding scandalises the gouvernante greatly, especially when the Comtessa gives her the wet flowers to hold, not caring to soil her own kid gloves or many flounced muslin dress. As they go along

the road together, the girl hardly able to keep back her dancing footsteps to the lagging pace of her attendant, I am forcibly reminded of Juliet and her nurse: the little, bright-eyed Comtessa, with her dimpled cheeks and arch smile, is hardly like the Juliet of our imaginations; but the portly puffing gouvernante must be a descendant of the old nurse.

seen in

By this time our fierce enemy the sun is sinking slowly behind the Western hills, a soft delicious breeze is reviving the trees and flowers, the birds and insects make themselves audible again, and every one turns out to enjoy the blessed, but all too short, cool evening hours. The stone bench is occupied by men placidly smoking, or gambling for very small copper coins. Chairs and little tables are brought out from the houses, and family groups are to be every direction; the men drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, whilst the women keep up a continual flow of quiet chatter and laughter; the maid-servants form into little knots round the fountain, eagerly demanding news or gossip from the various passersby, who are now returning from the Ponte to their village homes. As the short twilight deepens into night, men and boys return from work and join the different groups, not too tired it would seem for much good-humored talk and laughter. Just as the last ray of yellow light is fading away, my eye is caught by a familiar blue muslin skirt, and Fortunata and Luigi come slowly through the arch, hand in hand like two children; they are followed by the mother and little sister, who look a little tired and plaintive, as people will sometimes after a long holiday. Not so Fortunata, she is as gay and fresh as ever; and not so Luigi, who makes nothing of four hilly stony miles between him and his mountain home. It is strange that they still find enough left unsaid to make it necessary to linger by the fountain, till the long-suffering mother declares she can wait no longer, and the little sister philosophically settles to sleep on the steps. At last Luigi takes his final leave, and plunges

into the dark chestnut wood, singing an old Tuscan love ditty at the top of his clear strong voice.

The example is contagious-all the men and boys in the Piazza take up the strain, and shout it lustily, if not scientifically; then one after the other they sing the popular music of the day, fine Garibaldian hymns and stirring marches. Leonildo joins in with his shrill childish voice, and declaims viva la guerra with such extraordinary emphasis and fierce martial gestures that all the other singers stop awhile to listen and applaud, much to his mother's gratification, though she affects to laugh at her bambino's extravaganza.

There is no moon to-night, but the stars are bright enough to shed a light of their own, and the dark corners are illuminated by myriads of fire-flies, threading the mazes of their strange mystic dances. The bright-eyed Comtessa, who returned from vespers long ago, has vainly been trying to catch one in her hair-net, secretly taken off for the purpose; her long rippling brown hair in consequence fell over her shoulders like a dusky veil, and betrayed what she had done to the watchful nurse, who has since condemned her to sit still by her own door, and she is now amusing herself by teaching Bruno to beg for biscuits, going into peals of merry laughter at his conscientious but utterly ineffectual efforts to sit up against the wall.

I am vaguely wondering whether anybody will ever make up their minds to go to bed on such a night as this, when the church clock strikes ten-this seems the signal for dispersion. The songs cease, tables and chairs are carried in-doors, the groups break up, and many kindly buona seras and felice nottés are exchanged as neighbors and friends separate. Doors and windows are shut in every direction, and soon the Piazza is left to the fire-flies, who dance more weirdly than ever under the acacia-trees, which are whispering mysteriously as the wandering breezes sigh through their branches; and all through the coming night, soothing my waking hours and blending pleasantly with my dreams, I shall hear the music I have learned to love, the low monotonous lullaby, ceaselessly murmured by the ever-flowing waters of "Our Fountain."

BAGNI DI LUCCA, August, 1861.

E. M. ELLIOT.

LXXVII.-ANNALS OF NEEDLEWOMEN.

CHAPTER V.

"I am the woman that works for the bread."

Our Father's Care.

THE effects of poverty and ignorance combined, wherever they are found, have always the same tendency to abate and depress the system. To rise through pecuniary difficulties to the surface, and

overcome them, requires a master mind, and such a mind is rarely if ever found save where education and culture have been brought to bear in early training. But the lack of education that exists among a very large portion of our female children, owing to their early application to labor, leaves their minds utterly unbraced against the struggles of life which almost all have to encounter. Early placed out in the world, they imbibe no mental resources in aid of the organization of their natural abilities to their best use. The few years that succeed childhood are passed in mechanically following whatever industry is thrown in their way; their strength thus soon becomes early over-taxed, and in the hope of becoming independent, and to escape from labor by securing in a home of their own comfort and freedom, early marriages are contracted. But here the neglect of mental training is fully tested: they are ignorant of the commonest arrangements necessary either to make or keep the homes over which they preside; they know neither how to mend or wash their own clothes, of cooking and other domestic matters they are alike ignorant, and when in time they become mothers, their children suffer from the same incapacity which clogs the wheels of household economy at every turn.

It is to these successive generations of uneducated mothers that a great part of the misery of the metropolis may be traced. If we search them out, we find a mass of these helpless women among our sempstresses' community; fitted for no single occupation save common sewing, and that too of the coarsest kind, they swell the needle-market and depreciate the price of labor there.

Uninteresting as many of these poor women appear, they are nevertheless great objects of compassion, the error in their early training is not to be ascribed to them but rather to those for whose benefit they were deprived of education, and if that society neglected to do its duty by them in youth, it must expect to bear the burthen of their existence when they are past a teachable age. Notwithstanding their deficiencies, many of these women are respectable, willing, and well disposed, causing regret, on becoming better acquainted with them, that no opportunity had been afforded them of improving their minds and advancing in life. Their ideas however, are generally, as one might expect, limited to the day's exigencies; any forethought, either for their own or their children's benefit is totally ignored. One day's deprivation of work, a temporary sickness, or any other casualty, throws them back in life and they rarely recover their position, they are therefore continually in want, and a constant burthen to any benevolent person who, in compassion, has once befriended them. But the help

afforded to this class of persons is like pouring water into a leaky vessel- -no permanent good can result from the temporary aid afforded them. You visit such a case, and touched by the mother's need and depressed condition, relieve her a week later you return but the object of your charity is not a whit more independent than

before; the hunger you appeased is returned again and is craving to be satisfied-the new clothing you supplied is probably in pawn, gone to meet the demands for rent. There seems nothing to be done but again to open your purse. It seems inhuman to withhold the supplies, till at last the individual becomes an habitual dependant on your bounty.

A large number of our population thus float through the world, either grasping the charity of any such friend, if haply they find one, or failing this, filling our Unions, where they live and die unknown.

is

I would exemplify this statement by the history of a poor woman who (a specimen of her class) has lately often crossed my path. She is, poor creature! a widow, and has two children under her guidance,-I will not say to keep, for young as they are they do their full share towards supporting themselves. Mrs. Sjust one of these incapable women. I believe her to be respectable and honest, but she has neither energy nor hopefulness to battle with the world around her. Her state of health too is bad, so that there is little chance of her ever rising above that hand-to-mouth life which harrows the existence of so many of God's creatures. As to her children, I will leave my readers to judge (when they have heard my tale respecting them) whether or no there is any likelihood that their minds will ever develop to a higher state than mere animal existence. London was the birthplace of the mother; born of poor parents in this overcrowded city, her earliest associations were those of poverty; her mother was a laundress who went out to work by the day, and her father a gentleman's servant : she was at the age of twelve turned into the world to support herself, a little reading and writing being the only preparation she had received in the way of education for this youthful ordeal.

She was destined for service, and her first place was that of maid-of-all-work in a small tradesman's family. Here her strength was overtaxed, and to this may probably be traced her whole afterlife of physical debility; indeed, medical testimony proves that if the constitution of young girls be once strained beyond its power at this critical age, health is never afterwards enjoyed. It is a wellknown fact that no class of servants are required to perform so many and such arduous duties as these poor little maids-of-all-work, who are generally taken from workhouses or culled from the very poor, because they are had cheap, and have no friends to interfere in their behalf; at twelve years of age, and even earlier, we find them by hundreds engaged in such employment. Taken at a day's notice from whatever place they called home, they are immediately expected to divest themselves of any remnant of childhood, and to undertake the responsibilities forced on them by their employers, who generally, with no thought save the amount of work they can get from them, demand far more than any grown woman would consent to perform. They are made to carry heavy weights, remain

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on foot for long weary hours, are kept up late at night, and allowed neither relaxation nor rest. Of course, with everything to do, there is no time for learning how anything should be done. Sunday comes, but instead of rest these poor little maids' responsibilities are increased; it is their employers' holiday and they frequently go out, children and all, for the day, leaving their servant to keep house, with orders on no account to leave the premises. Accustomed before going to service to plenty of playfellows, the dull monotony of the long Sabbath hours is more wearisome even than work to the child servant; and stealthy visits to the streets, where strange acquaintances are made, with other attempts to beguile the time, are the consequence. The door once opened to temptation, mischief, sorrow, and often ruin results. The chaplain of a large district union school told me lately that more girls returned to the unions dismissed from service, having lost their character while maids-of-allwork, than in any other capacity. This is also the case in prisons: many an early crime has been traced to this same want of supervision on Sunday. I am, however, digressing from my tale. Mrs. S's health was not proof against the strain put upon it at her first place, but for several years she persevered in service, going from one situation to another, but her health at last entirely gave way and she was obliged to have recourse to her needle to live, and accordingly took a small lodging in which to perform her work. The seeds of consumption early sown in her constitution were however gradually gaining ground, and general debility followed; it mattered little what was her occupation, her strength failed in all, and weak sight prevented her gaining her livelihood at needlework. Washing was the next scheme tried, but with little success. It was at this period of her life she married; her husband was a bricklayer and in full work, earning what to her appeared wealth, namely, 30s. per week. Here was a happy change of affairs, and for a few years all went on smoothly enough. But no habits of prudence and forethought had ever been encouraged in either man or wife, previous poverty was soon forgotten with money in hand and temptations without; the 30s. a week was all spent and nothing laid by for a rainy day. A large family followed their marriage, but the children inherited their parents' constitution, for the husband was also consumptive; they lost three infants within a few years, two children still remained to them. At this juncture the man was thrown out of work by a long and lingering illness, and then their want of forethought was felt by both; they had literally nothing to fall back upon, save the wife's attempt to get needlework, and the usual recourse of selling their furniture. Now and then the man attempted half a day's work, but always suffered from the exertion, and his malady increased rapidly. They were compelled to apply to the parish for relief, but a little tea and sugar was all the help afforded them; at last a visitor, seeing the poor man's helpless condition, interested himself