PREF

If any of my present read read the history of JULIANA doubtedly have some recolle and the little MINNY; and greatly inferior to the elder, lately come to my knowledge persons may not be wholly who are already in some degre The sequel of their history wa course of letters, written by period of life in which she was to meditate with some advantag and as her account of herself o and notices of a mode of life litt I no longer hesitate to give it of young readers who have hi much apparent satisfaction, ma deavours to amuse them.

ERMINA;

OR, THE

SECOND PART OF JULIANA OAKLEY.

CHAPTER I.

Ermina's account of herself.

THE history of my former companion, Miss Juliana Oakley, having been lately put into my hands, and there seeing my own name, and that of my lovely and beloved Anna, I have been induced to look back upon my own life, and have at length resolved to send you, my friends in England, some recollections of my former days, which I trust may not be wholly without interest.

I remember little of my life before I came to reside with my governess, or rather, I should say my second mother; she found me a little friendless orphan, and brought me to her own house, where I was never made to feel my orphan state. My parents had resided in Cornwall, where my governess had been paying a visit at the time of their deaths, and I never knew of any other relation than an uncle, who being a wild youth, ran from his father's house, went to sea, and was not heard of for many years; I shall say nothing of the happy days I spent with my governess, that period which was blessed to me through life, and will be so, through all eternity, for it was in that blessed abode of peace I acquired my first and most correct ideas of religion, and though the impressions seemed to wear away for a time, yet they were never entirely erased. After the death of my dear governess, I was left wholly destitute, and should have been without a home, had not an old aunt of my dear Anna's and a sister of my governess taken pity upon me; this good woman had come from Cornwall on hearing of her sister's illness, and had only

arrived in time to close her eyes. Immediately after the funeral she returned with her niece Anna and myself to Falmouth, where she resided, and we made our journey in three days on the outside of a heavy coach.

I endured much fatigue on the road, and when we arrived at Falmouth, late one dark evening, at the end of autumn, young as I was, I felt myself shocked, not only by the dirtiness of the streets, but still more by the appearance of the house into which she conducted us. It was a kind of little low shop furnished in the roughest manner, and contained the wearing apparel of sailors, by making which Mrs. Finchley, for such was the name of my new protectress, obtained a scanty living; behind the shop was a small dark kitchen, and John Finchley, the master, was busy at his counter, serving two rough faced sailors, as we entered the door, carrying our own baggage.

I had been used to humble, but not to sordid life, and being wholly overcome with fatigue I burst into tears the moment I was set down in the kitchen.

Anna on this occasion looked sorrowfully at me, but she did not speak, and Mrs. Finchley's daughter, who was, as I afterward found, the wife of a sailor, then absent on a voyage, endeavoured to comfort me, saying, that I should soon be used to them all, and that then I should be as happy as I had been before the death of her aunt.

I thought that this was impossible, however I tried to hide my tears, and after having been refreshed with tea, I was shown to my bed-room, where I was rejoiced to find that Anna was to be my companion. Our chamber was up two pair of dark and narrow stairs; it was very small; the floor and ceiling were uneven; it contained only half of a window, the other half being cut off to give light to the next room; this window was a small sash, and as there was no curtain, admitted the light of a candle from an upper room in the opposite house; in one corner of the room stood the bed, the curtains of which being of tarnished green stuff, were nailed to a lath, fastened on the ceiling; a cracked looking glass, a chest of walnut drawers, a deal table, and two broken chairs completed the furniture of this wretched apartment: where, instead of being regaled with the taste of the fresh breezes among the trees, the

song of the nightingale, the hoot of owls, or the murmur of waterfalls, together with the breath of many flowers, we were stunned with the oaths and songs of drunken sailors from the court below, where was a public house, and almost suffocated with the fumes of tobacco.

When Anna and I found ourselves shut up in this place, we looked at each other for a few minutes in silent despair: at length Anna began to shed tears, and I threw myself upon her bosom and wept with her till I could weep no longer, and being quite worn out and sick was compelled to undress and go to bed, where I presently found some relief in sleep.

The light of morning was so much obscured by the dinginess of the glass in the window, and the smoke and fog of the town, that we were not aware that the sun had risen till it was late; at length Mrs. Finchley entered our room and kindly assisted us to dress, then leading me by the hand down the stairs, she brought us into the kitchen, where our breakfast waited; there she sat down by us, and while she used her needle with much diligence, she thus addressed us. 'My dear Anna and Minny, I am sorry I have no better home to offer you, I am sensible that this must appear a shocking place to you after your former delightful residence; but such as it is, I am thankful for it, many better persons than I am would be glad of such a resting-place as this; and thank God I live in hopes of a better home, even an eternal one.

"Finchley and I have gone through many sorrows, and endured many losses. It was thought when I was married, that my husband was a thriving man, and we possessed a hadsome shop and good business in an airy part of the town; we then looked forward to finishing our days in ease and affluence, but Providence ordained otherwise; we suffered many losses, and were at length reduced to live as we now do. Of six children who were born to us we have one only now living, four died in infancy and are now in glory, and our son, our hopeful and beloved, perished in the Eastern Seas as much as three years past; we were in the dark concerning his fate for many months, but at length were assured thereof by a comrade who saw him tumble overboard; it was a severe blow to lose our child in such a way, but it was a kind one," added the poor mother, "it has been

blessed to us, it has driven us to seek comfort where we never sought it before, and we have been brought to say that which no man can say without divine help, Thy will, O God, be done!" In this part of her discourse Mrs. Finchley wiped her eyes, and then turning cheerfully to Anna, she added, “And now my dear niece, having told you my story, I must be plain with you on other matters: I shall never ask you, my child, to go into the shop, you are too young for such services in this place; but you will not refuse to help me with your needle, and in such household duties as can be performed in private, and I am sure this little miss will assist you, for the truth is," and she burst into tears. "I cannot, however willing, keep you my girls, unless you can help to keep yourselves."

I forget what answer we made, indeed I believe we made no answer whatever, but we both ran into her arms and all wept together, and from that moment we felt ashamed of ever expressing our uneasiness at our situation, even by a look; but what is more strange, after a time we became wonderfully reconciled to our situation, and though we remembered our happy home, from which we were now for ever parted, with a degree of sadness which we never overcame, yet we were blessed with a peace of mind while at Falmouth for which I could never acount; our feelings nevertheless partook of a degree of sadness at times, and our spirits were always in a state of something like depression; we enjoyed no pleasures, we were almost wholly confined in the dark kitchen above-mentioned, and we spent our time in making shirts for sale and committing hymns and portions of Scripture to memory; we seldom tasted the fresh air, and yet I have often looked back on that time as one of the most blessed of my life. I have often asked myself how I could possibly have been contented at that period, and have often inquired whence that peace proceeded which I then enjoyed. The answer which I have often given to this question was this, that at the period I speak of, I had in the first place been thoroughly humbled, for young as I was I had been made sensible of the desolate situation to which I must have been reduced had not Mrs. Finchley taken pity on me, and in the second place, my only companion, for I seldom met the rest of the family, excepting at meals, was my lovely Anna, whose sweet and pious discourse