"Oh how I do wish I was rich " said Eliza Melvyn, dropping her work in her lap, and looking up discontentedly to her mother; "why should not I be rich as well as Clara Payson? There she passes in her father's carriage, with her fine clothes, and haughty ways; while I sit here-sew-sewing-all day long. I don't see what use I am in the world