Vanity Fair
Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted
no more nor less than churchyard epitaphs;
yet, as it sometimes happens that a person departs this life
who is really deserving of all the praises
the stone cutter carves over his bones;
who IS a good Christian, a good parent, child, wife, or husband;
who actually DOES leave a disconsolate family
to mourn his loss;
so in academies of the male and female sex
it occurs every now and then
that the pupil is fully worthy of the praises
bestowed by the disinterested instructor.
Now, Miss Amelia Sedley was a young lady
of this singular species;
and deserved not only all that Miss Pinkerton said in her praise,
but had many charming qualities
which that pompous old Minerva of a woman could not see,
from the differences of rank and age
between her pupil and herself.
For she could not only sing like a lark, or a Mrs. Billington,
and dance like Hillisberg or Parisot;
and embroider beautifully;
and spell as well as a Dixonary itself;
but she had such a kindly, smiling, tender, gentle,
generous heart of her own,
as won the love of everybody who came near her,
from Minerva herself down to the poor girl in the scullery,
and the one-eyed tart-woman's daughter,
who was permitted to vend her wares once a week
to the young ladies in the Mall.
She had twelve intimate and bosom friends
out of the twenty-four young ladies.
Even envious Miss Briggs never spoke ill of her;
high and mighty Miss Saltire (Lord Dexter's granddaughter)
allowed that her figure was genteel;
and as for Miss Swartz,
the rich woolly-haired mulatto from St. Kitt's,
on the day Amelia went away,
she was in such a passion of tears
that they were obliged to send for Dr. Floss,
and half tipsify her with salvolatile.
Miss Pinkerton's attachment was,
as may be supposed from the high position
and eminent virtues of that lady, calm and dignified;
but Miss Jemima had already whimpered several times
at the idea of Amelia's departure;
and, but for fear of her sister,
would have gone off in downright hysterics,
like the heiress (who paid double) of St. Kitt's.
Such luxury of grief, however,
is only allowed to parlour-boarders.
Honest Jemima had all the bills, and the washing,
and the mending, and the puddings, and the plate and crockery,
and the servants to superintend.