s　sewing　in　another　room；　and　Bessie；　as　she　moved　hither　and　thither；　putting　away　toys　and　arranging　drawers；　addressed　to　me　every　now　and　then　a　word　of　unwonted　kindness。　This　state　of　things　should　have　been　to　me　a　paradise　of　peace；　accustomed　as　I　was　to　a　life　of　ceaseless　reprimand　and　thankless　fagging；　but；　in　fact；　my　racked　nerves　were　now　in　such　a　state　that　no　calm　could　soothe；　and　no　pleasure　excite　them　agreeably。

Bessie　had　been　down　into　the　kitchen；　and　she　brought　up　with　her　a　tart　on　a　certain　brightly　painted　china　plate；　whose　bird　of　paradise；　nestling　in　a　wreath　of　convolvuli　and　rosebuds；　had　been　wont　to　stir　in　me　a　most　enthusiastic　sense　of　admiration；　and　which　plate　I　had　often　petitioned　to　be　allowed　to　take　in　my　hand　in　order　to　examine　it　more　closely；　but　had　always　hitherto　been　deemed　unworthy　of　such　a　privilege。　This　precious　vessel　was　now　placed　on　my　knee；　and　I　was　cordially　invited　to　eat　the　circlet　of　delicate　pastry　upon　it。　Vain　favour！　ing；　like　most　other　favours　long　deferred　and　often　wished　for；　too　late！　I　could　not　eat　the　tart；　and　the　plumage　of　the　bird；　the　tints　of　the　flowers；　seemed　strangely　faded：　I　put　both　plate　and　tart　away。　Bessie　asked　if　I　would　have　a　book：　the　word　BOOK　acted　as　a　transient　stimulus；　and　I　begged　her　to　fetch　Gulliver’s　Travels　from　the　library。　This　book　I　had　again　and　again　perused　with　delight。　I　considered　it　a　narrative　of　facts；　and　discovered　in　it　a　vein　of　inte