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18                             A  FEW MEMORIES
and a half years left for the development of w" is most august in our nature. When study \ recommenced, it was at a day school—the Pi entation Academy. There, with accustomed dolence, I learned nothing, with the exception reading, in which I was generally head of 1 class. Every day I was sent to school witl shining morning face, a fresh frock, and a t: blue ribbon to bind my obstreperous locks. Evi evening I returned home with the frock i: stained and torn, the pretty ribbon lost, and lo ing about the head and hands a veritable " St belpeter." I was punished continually for i knowing my lessons: made to stand in a con balancing a book upon my head, or to sit on ' dunce-stool, which, fortunately for me, was soi cushioned. " I love sitting here," said I to Sis du Chantal—who was fond of me in spite of mischievousness, and who always administe necessary punishment in a kindly way—"fo am nearer to you, can see the girls better, and t seat is so much more comfortable than those h; benches." Dr. Griffin's brother, Guilderoy — ways a favorite with me—lived near us in th days. He was a man of talent, who had writ some interesting studies on literature " My ]