I stepped across the rug; he placed me square and straight before him. What a face he had，now that it was almost on a level with mine! what a great nose! and what a mouth! and what large prominent teeth!

"No sight so sad as that of a naughty child," he began，"especially a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?"

"They go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer.

"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"

"A pit full of fire."

"And should you like to fall into that pit，and to be burning there for ever?"

"No，sir."

"What must you do to avoid it?"

I deliberated a moment; my answer，when it did e，was objectionable: "I must keep in good health，and not die."

"How can you keep in good health? Children younger than you die daily. I buried a little child of five years old only a day or two since,- a good little child，whose soul is now in heaven. It is to be feared the same could not be said of you were you to be called hence."

Not being in a condition to remove his doubt，I only cast my eyes down on the two large feet planted on the rug，and sighed，wishing myself far enough away.

"I hope that sigh is from the heart，and that you repent of ever having been the occasion of disfort to your excellent benefactress."

"Benefactress! benefactress!" said I inwardly: "they all call Mrs. Reed my benefactress; if so，a benefactress is a disagreeable thing."

"Do you say your prayers night and morning?" continued my interrogator.

"Yes，sir."