in some way or other; all are plump; all are nice-looking; there is not one Becky Sharp in the whole school; on the contrary, as in “Pious Orgies,” all is pious—­or sub-pious—­and all, if not great, is at least eminently respectable.  One feels that St. Joachim and St. Anne could not have chosen a school more judiciously, and that if one had a daughter oneself this is exactly where one would wish to place her.  If there is a fault of any kind in the arrangements, it is that they do not keep cats enough.  The place is overrun with mice, though what these can find to eat I know not.  It occurs to me also that the young ladies might be kept a little more free of spiders’ webs; but in all these chapels, bats, mice, and spiders are troublesome.

Off the main drawing-room on the side facing the window there is a dais, which is approached by a large raised semicircular step, higher than the rest of the floor, but lower than the dais itself.  The dais is, of course, reserved for the venerable Lady Principal and the under-mistresses, one of whom, by the way, is a little more mondaine than might have been expected, and is admiring herself in a looking-glass—­unless, indeed, she is only looking to see if there is a spot of ink on her face.  The Lady Principal is seated near a table, on which lie some books in expensive bindings, which I imagine to have been presented to her by the parents of pupils who were leaving school.  One has given her a photographic album; another a large scrapbook, for illustrations of all kinds; a third volume has red edges, and is presumably of a devotional character.  If I dared venture another criticism, I should say it would be better not to keep the ink-pot on the top of these books.  The Lady Principal is being read to by the monitress for the week, whose duty it was to recite selected passages from the most approved Hebrew writers; she appears to be a good deal outraged, possibly at the faulty intonation of the reader, which she has long tried vainly to correct; or perhaps she has been hearing of the atrocious way in which her forefathers had treated the prophets, and is explaining to the young ladies how impossible it would be, in their own more enlightened age, for a prophet to fail of recognition.

On the half-dais, as I suppose the large semicircular step between the main room and the dais should be called, we find, first, the monitress for the week, who stands up while she recites; and secondly, the Virgin herself, who is the only pupil allowed a seat so near to the august presence of the Lady Principal.  She is ostensibly doing a piece of embroidery which is stretched on a cushion on her lap, but I should say that she was chiefly interested in the nearest of four pretty little Cupids, who are all trying to attract her attention, though they pay no court to any other young lady.  I have sometimes wondered whether the obviously scandalized gesture of the Lady Principal might not be directed at these Cupids, rather