The summer was passing away—harvest had come and gone; and while the others were engaged during this busy season, I was to be seen perched on every load of hay, from which I had of course two or three tumbles, but always on some pile beneath. The kittens had grown large and awkward, and consequently lost my favor; while the cat no longer put herself to the trouble of hiding them, so that I could now have them whenever I chose—coming like most other privileges when no longer desired. The evenings were getting chilly, so that a fire was very acceptable; and I loved to sit by the bright flame before the candles were brought in, and listen to Aunt Henshaw's stories.

"Now," said I one evening when we had all comfortably arranged ourselves to spend the twilight in doing nothing, "do tell me a very interesting story, Aunt Henshaw—for you know that I am going home soon, and perhaps it is the last that I shall hear."

"Well," said she with a smile, "if it is to be so very interesting, I must think very hard first."

Cousin Statia had been looking towards the door, when she suddenly inquired: "Did you ever tell her about the bullet hole?"

"Why, no," replied the old lady, "I do not believe I ever did. Have you noticed the round hole in the front door, Amy?"

I replied in the negative; and taking me into the hall, she led the way to the front door which opened in two parts, and in the upper half I distinctly perceived a bullet hole which had been made by the British; and it was the story attached to this very hole which she was about to tell me.

"Well, one night," said she, "a long while ago, I sat by the fire with the baby in my arms, while the other children were playing around. The two women servants were in the kitchen, and Mr. Henshaw had taken the men several miles off, on some business relating to the farm. It was just about this time, before the candles were lit; and one of the women came in to tell me that five British soldiers were approaching the house.

"Fasten all the doors then," said I, "and let no one enter unless I give you permission."

The doors were well fastened up, and before long I heard them knocking with the ends of their muskets. I let them knock for some time; but at length I raised an upper window, and asked them what they wanted.

"We want some supper," they replied, "and will probably stay all night."

"It is not in my power to accommodate you." I replied, as coolly as possible, "nor do I feel willing to admit any visitors in the absence of my husband."

"If you do not admit us soon we will break the door down!" they exclaimed.

"Of that I am not much afraid," said I; "it is too well secured."

I withdrew from the window, and for half an hour they tried various means of effecting an entrance, but it was impossible. I approached the window again, and they called out: "If you do not have the door opened, we shall certainly fire!"

"Do so," I replied; "there is no one to injure by it except helpless women and children."

I did not suppose they would do it—I thought it was intended only for a threat; and was therefore as much surprised as any of the others, when a bullet came whizzing through the front door, and passing through a pane of glass in an opposite window, fell into the yard. A dreadful scream arose from the servants, and perhaps frightened for the effects, or perceiving my husband and the men, they made a hasty retreat; and I was just ready to sink from fright when Mr. Henshaw came in. He told me never to stop up the bullet-hole, but to leave it to show what women were made of in the Revolution.



CHAPTER XIV.

Cousin Statia had completed her winter's knitting, Aunt Henshaw began to make pumpkin pies, and the period of my visit was rapidly drawing to a close. The letters from home grew more and more solicitous for my return, and at last the day was fixed. I felt anxious to see them all again, and yet rather sorry to lay aside my present state of freedom. I had quite escaped from leading-strings, and found it very pleasant to follow the bent of my inclination as I had done at Aunt Henshaw's; but absence had banished all memory of the thorns I had sometimes encountered in my career at home, and I thought only of the roses—the idea of change being also a great inducement.

Holly and I had passed whole afternoons in gathering hazel-nuts which grew near a fence not far from the house; and having filled a very respectable-sized bag with them, I felt quite impatient at the idea of returning home well-laden with supplies, like any prudent housekeeper. Aunt Henshaw was to accompany me, and selecting some of her choicest produce, and an immense bunch of herbs, as antidotes for all the aches and ills which human flesh is heir to, on a bright, glowing September morning, we set forward on my homeward journey. "Blessings brighten as they leave us;" and although I had been considered the torment of the whole household, all regretted my departure, and begged me to come soon again.

"Now, Miss Amy," said Sylvia, as I was taking a long private farewell in the kitchen, "jest take a piece of advice from an old colored woman what has lived longer in the world than you have, and roasted chickens and fried sassages ever sense she can remember. Buckwheat cakes is very good, but to keep your own counsel is a heap better—so when you go home don't you go to telling about that ere pig-pen business, or the time when the old hen flewed at you, or tumbling off the old horse. People that don't say nothin' often gits credit for bein' quite sensible, and p'raps you can deceive 'em too; for you'll be kind o' made a fuss with when you fust get home, and if you don't let on about all these here scrapes they'll think more of you."

Sylvia's advice struck me as being very sensible, and I therefore resolved to act upon it, and endeavor to make them consider me quite a different character from the hoyden Amy. I kissed Cousin Statia, who took up her sewing as calmly as though nothing of any importance was about to occur; and having delighted Holly's eyes with a bright ribbon in which all the colors of the rainbow seemed combined, I presented Sylvia with a collar worked by myself, and passed out to the stage, which was waiting for us. Our journey home was quite an uneventful one; and the wind being more favorable, we were not so long on the passage.

My parents were watching for us with anxious solicitude; but when the door opened in bounded a wild, blooming hoyden, in whose sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks they could detect no trace of the delicate invalid. Henry and Fred, with a troop of younger brothers, stood ready to devour me with kisses; but Mammy, rushing impulsively forward, pushed them all aside, and cried and laughed over me alternately, while she almost crushed me with the violence of her affection. Before I was well seated, Fred spied out the bag of hazel-nuts; and a vigorous sound of cracking informed me that the work of devastation had already commenced.

How they all stared at my ear-rings! But mamma turned pale and burst into tears; while I stood still, feeling very uncomfortable, and yet not being exactly aware of the manner in which I had displeased her. Aunt Henshaw, however, with a minute accuracy that struck me as being painfully correct, related every circumstance connected with that unfortunate business, from her finding me extended on the bed to the time when the rings were placed in my ears.

"Oh Amy! how could you!" exclaimed my mother; "I have always despised the barbarous practice of making holes in the flesh for the sake of ornament," she continued, "but to have them pierced by an ignorant colored woman! Come here, child, and let me look at your ears. They are completely spoiled!" she exclaimed, "the holes are one-sided, and close to the very bone! What is to be done?"

Aunt Henshaw suggested that it would be better to let those grow up, and have others made in the right place; but I still retained a vivid recollection of that scene of torture, and did not therefore feel willing to have it repeated. But the ear-rings must come out—they were no ornament all one-sided; so they were laid away in cotton, while I had the pleasure of reflecting on the suffering I had endured for nothing. Being thus brought down at the very commencement of my attempt to be sensible, and finding it less trouble to resume my natural character, I concluded to disregard Sylvia's well-meant advice. I was very poor at keeping a secret; so one by one all the scrapes in which I had figured came to light, to the great horror of the others, and the delight of Fred, who was quite pleased to discover a congenial soul.

Mammy at length seized upon me again, and carrying me almost by force to the nursery, she locked the door and sat down beside me; determined, as she said, to have me to herself for a while. Having requested an account of all the adventures I had met with, she listened with the most absorbed attention while I unfolded the various circumstances of my visit. Mammy was sometimes amused, sometimes frightened, and often shocked, but generally for the dignity of the family; for as I had been its representative, she feared that it would suffer in the eyes of the country people.

Time passed on; Aunt Henshaw returned home, and things proceeded in their usual way. My vanity was flattered by the increased attention which I met with on all sides; my parents appeared to consider me much less of a child since my return, and I was in consequence almost emancipated from the nursery; while Mammy and Jane no longer chided me for my misdemeanors—which, to say the truth, were much less frequent than formerly.

But I soon after experienced a great source of regret in the departure of Ellen Tracy for boarding-school. Not being an only daughter like myself, her parents could better spare her; but we were almost inconsolable at parting, and having shed abundance of tears, presented each other with keepsakes as mementos of our unchanging friendship. Hers was a little china cup, which I have kept to this day, while I gave her a ring made of my own hair; so that, for want of Ellen's company, I was obliged to take up with her brother's; and the boys complained that I kept Charles so much to myself it was impossible to make him join any of their excursions.

It was my twelfth birthday; and on the evening of that day I feared that Mammy's oft-repeated threat of leaving us, at which we had so often trembled in our younger days, was about to be verified. A married sister was taken very ill, and Mammy was immediately sent for to take care of her; and indeed we were afraid that she would be obliged to stay there altogether, on account of her nephews and nieces. How dreary the nursery seemed after her departure! In vain did the good-natured Jane exert herself to tell her most amusing stories; they had lost their interest; and yielding to her feelings, she became at length as dull as any of us.

In about a week Mammy returned; but we could see that she was changed; her sister had died and left five children but illy provided for. Through the influence of my father, different situations were obtained for the three eldest; while the old nurse, with the assistance of occasional charity, supported the two younger ones. But Mammy had suffered from sleepless nights, and rooms but illy warmed; and her own health failed during her ceaseless watch by the bedside of her sister. We did not know exactly what it was, but felt very sure that Mammy seemed no longer like the same person.

Children who are kept at a distance by their parents and elders, often have very queer thoughts, whose existence no one imagines. I do not think I was an ordinary child; and notwithstanding my hoyden nature had a very thoughtful turn of mind. I well recollect, on being once sent early to bed for some misdemeanor I bribed my brother Fred to accompany me; and waking up during the night, the saying that "he who goes to bed in anger has the devil for his bed-fellow" came across my mind, and impressed me so strongly that I caught hold of Fred's foot to ascertain whether it was so disagreeable a guest, or my own madcap brother who was lying beside me. Even the kick I received in return was rather welcome than otherwise, as it proved beyond a doubt that it was really the veritable Fred.

But what has this to do with Mammy? you ask. A great deal, I can assure you; for I began to fear that it was not the old nurse who had returned to us, but some strange being, who, having assumed her appearance, had not been able altogether to imitate her manner. So I kept myself aloof, and felt afraid to venture too close; but she grew thinner and paler, and my mother relieved her from all care of the children.

I slept in a small closet that opened into the nursery; and calling me very softly one night, she said, "Miss Amy, will you bring me a pitcher of water? I know they would not let me have it," she continued as I attempted to remonstrate with her, "but I am determined not to die choking."

I was very much frightened, but I could not see her suffer with thirst; and bringing her a large pitcher of water, she drank almost half of it at once. "Now place it on a chair where I can reach it," said she, "and go back to bed—I shall be better soon."

I did as she requested, and, childlike, soon fell asleep again. The old nurse too slept—but hers was the sleep that knows no waking. They came in the next morning and found her dead. Her features were peaceful as though she had died calmly, and beside her stood the pitcher empty. She always said that if she should ever be ill, she would have water—she would drink till she died, and she had literally done so. We all felt very sad, and Fred broke forth into loud screams, on being told of her death.

It was my first realization of death—the first corpse I had ever seen; and as I knelt beside the coffin, where the pale hands that lay cross-folded on the breast, the motionless features, and the dreadful stillness of the whole figure, spoke eloquently of the change that had taken place, I thought of my many acts of wilfulness, ingratitude, and unkindness, which had often pained the loving heart that had now forever ceased to beat. Could I but see those still features again animated with life, I felt that never again would my tongue utter aught but words of kindness; but it was now too late for amendment—there was nothing left me but repentance.

My parents too grieved at her death; she had been in the family so long that they were loathe to miss the old familiar face from its post in the nursery. She was buried from our own house; and there were more true mourners at her funeral than often fall to the lot of the great and gifted.



CHAPTER XV.

"Papa, have you any relations?" I asked one evening rather suddenly, after pondering over the subject and wondering why it was that our family consisted of no one but papa, and mamma, and us children; while other people always had aunts, or uncles, or cousins living with them. We had plenty, to be sure, who came and made visits at different times; but I meant some one to live with us altogether.

"What a curious question!" said my father, smiling, "And how suddenly you bolted out with it, Amy, after at least half an hour's silence. You must have thought deeply on the subject, but what put it into your head just now?"

Not knowing exactly what to say, I wisely remained silent; and turning to my mother, he continued in a low tone: "Do you know that this random question of Amy's has awakened some not very welcome reminiscences, and pointed out a line of duty which does not promise much pleasure beyond the consciousness of doing right? I ought to invite an addition to the family without delay."

"Are you joking, or in earnest?" inquired my mother, "And if in earnest, pray whom do you refer to?"

"You will soon find it to be most solid, substantial earnest," rejoined my father, "for I must this very evening write a letter to Mrs. Chesbury, senior, the step-mother of whom you have heard me speak, inviting her to spend the summer with us. She has, you know, resided at the South since my father's death, occasionally visiting her relatives at the North; and as we have never yet been honored with her company, that pleasure is still in store for us. My recollections of her, to be sure, are not so very delightful. She was very severe in her discipline, and continually checked my pleasures and enjoyments, which she usually exchanged for some long, heavy, incomprehensible task; and at the first blunder in recitation, off came her shoe, which she immediately laid across my shoulders with the most unremitting zeal. I recollect her whipping me one day when it really appeared to me that I had not been in the least to blame. I was quite a little fellow then, and drawing my hand across my eyes, I sobbed forth: 'I wish one of us in this room was dead, I do—I don't wish it was me—and I don't wish it was the cat—' Whatever I had intended to add was suddenly cut short; and I began to think that it was rather foolish of me to subject myself to two whippings instead of one. I have quite escaped from leading-strings now," added my father with an expressive look; but the old lady may be of considerable assistance in keeping you young ones in order.

The children looked frightened; and Fred, being now too old to dread any whippings on his own account, kindly undertook the instruction of his younger brothers in the art of being saucy and playing practical jokes. We were told to call her "grandmother," and treat her with the greatest respect; but as I dwelt upon my father's account of her, like the magician in olden story, I almost trembled at the visitor I had invoked. The letter was written and despatched; and after a while, an answering one received, in which the step-mother accepted her son-in-law's invitation, "for the sake," as she said, "of the many happy hours they had formerly enjoyed together." I sat reading in a distant corner of the room when this letter was received, almost concealed by the folds of the curtains; and the other children being out of the room, I overheard my father say:

"I do not remember much else but being whipped, and sent supperless to bed; if they were happy hours, it must have been on the principle of the frogs—'What is play to you is death to us.'"

My mother smiled; but she replied softly: "Perhaps she is changed now, Arthur; do not say anything against her before the children, for she is a stranger, entitled to our hospitality—and I would not have her welcome a chilling one."

In process of time the old lady arrived, accompanied by a colored servant who answered to the name of Venus. Fred christened her "the black divinity," at which she became highly offended; and ever after, there was a perpetual war of words waging between the two. My grandmother was a small, dark-complexioned woman, with an exceedingly haughty, and very repulsive expression. She received all her daughter-in-law's endeavors to make her feel at home as a natural right; and appeared to consider other people intended only for her sole use and benefit. As I glanced from her to my mother's fair, soft beauty, and strikingly sweet expression, I formed a comparison between the two not much to my grandmother's advantage.

We soon found that the old lady had a great idea of taking the reins into her own hands; the children were scolded, and threatened, and locked up in dark closets, until, to use their own expression, they became, most "dreadfully good," and never dared to show off under the espionage of those eagle eyes. During the summer, our parents were absent for some weeks on a pleasure jaunt; and Grandmother Chesbury having the entire control of us, we were obliged to behave very differently from usual. She kept us all in awe except Fred; but on him it was impossible to make the least impression. If she tyrannized over the rest us, it was abundantly repaid by the teazings of my mischievous brother.

The old lady was extremely violent in temper, and after irritating it to the highest pitch, or, as he termed it, "putting on the steam," he provoked her still more by his polite sarcasms and tantalizing replies. The object of contest between them was generally the last word in the argument; and when victory appeared to incline neither to one side nor the other, my grandmother would exclaim angrily: "Hold your tongue this moment, you impertinent boy! Not another word."

"Yes'm," Fred would reply, with every appearance of submission.

Having triumphed up stairs, he generally went in search of Venus, whose anger was almost as vehement as that of her mistress. Her time, when not attending to Mrs. Chesbury, was chiefly occupied by the duties of the toilet; and Jane asserted that she had anxiously inquired if there were no respectable colored gentlemen about the place? Venus always bestowed a great deal of pains on the arrangement of her head covering, which was profusely decorated with combs of various shapes and sizes; but "thereby hangs a tale" which must be told.

Good beef is very scarce at the South, and Southerners therefore consider it a great treat when they come North. My grandmother was very fond of it frizzled; and Venus being quite au fait in the manufacture of this dish, the old lady never allowed any one else to make it for her. One afternoon, during my parents' absence, the children being disposed of in various ways—some had gone out for a walk, two were playing together in a closet where they had been locked up, and others were rambling about the grounds—the house was pretty clear; so my grandmother resolved to enjoy a treat in her own apartment. A small table was nicely laid out with all the requisites for a comfortable tea, and Venus then departed to the kitchen to dish up some frizzled beef.

But it so happened that the odor of the savory dish, in its passage up stairs, found its way to the nostrils of Master Fred, who had been quietly engaged in some wonderfully wise researches in the library; and as even philosophers are not exempt from the earth-born love of good things, out rushed our student with a polite request that Venus would "allow him to taste the trash, and see if it was fit to be sent to Mrs. Chesbury." A scuffle ensued, in which Fred succeeded in satisfying his curiosity; and with considerably ruffled plumage, and not in the sweetest state of mind, Venus proceeded up stairs. Fred slyly followed; and peeping through the key-hole of a door that opened into my grandmother's room, he determined to watch the progress of the feast. Things looked very tempting, and he had half a mind to petition for a seat at the table; but he began to think that, even should he succeed in his request, a seat would be all he could gain; for the old lady attacked the eatables very much in the style of a school-boy just come home for the holidays. The frizzled beef rapidly disappeared, till the bottom of the dish was scarcely covered; but suddenly ceasing her attacks upon it, my grandmother took the dish in her hand, and pointing to some black substance, interrogated the colored girl in accents of mingled doubt and horror.

"Why Venus, come here! What—what—what is this?"

"Why, la, Missus!" exclaimed Venus, while every feature brightened with joyful surprise, "If there ain't my little comb, what I lost in the scuffle with Master Fred! Who would have thought to find it here!"

"Who, indeed!" ejaculated the old lady, in a voice scarcely audible.

My grandmother did not leave her room that evening, and we were told that she was ill; while it is scarcely necessary to add that Fred never again interfered with any of Venus' cookeries. When repeating the story, he always dwelt upon the ridiculous tableau presented by the horrified looks of the old lady, as she pointed to the suspicious-looking article—and the delight and surprise of Venus at recovering her lost property in such an unexpected manner. He possessed a great talent for drawing; and before long, a caricature appeared, which was a most life-like representation of the whole scene. My mother shook her head, and my father delivered a short, but expressive lecture upon the improper nature of mimicry; but in the midst of an edifying discourse Fred suddenly displayed the drawing in full view—at which all the children burst into peals of laughter, and my father abruptly closed his sermon, and frowning sternly, walked into the library; but we could perceive a nervous twitching about the corners of his mouth, which looked very much at variance with the frown upon his brow.

My mother too, fixed her eyes steadfastly upon her sewing, and refused to look up; which Fred saucily told her was only because she knew she would laugh if she did. We were then told that we had been naughty children, and sent out of the room; but somehow, we did not feel as though we had been very bad, or that our parents were very angry with us, and skipping along through the garden-walks, we next sent Jane almost into convulsions of laughter by a display of the picture. Mamma, however, burned it before long; she said that it was highly improper to ridicule our grandmother, even if she had faults, and that we must bear with her kindly, and not forget how few pleasures she enjoyed. Dear mamma! she was too kind—too good; and often met with the fate of such—imposition.

I once heard of a lady who went to a house to make a call, and stayed eleven years; this was somewhat similar to my grandmother's case—she came to pass the summer with us, and spent her life-time. Whenever she spoke of going back to the South, my father urged her to stay, and gave convincing reasons why she should prolong her visit; and my mother, too, kindly reflecting that the old lady had no near relatives and seemed to enjoy herself with us, added her entreaties. At last they told her that there was no reason why she should not stay altogether; and she appeared to think so too, for she stayed. As we grew more accustomed to her we liked her better than at first; she told us long stories about the South, and related anecdotes of the greatness, and wealth, and distinguished position of her own family, which she considered superior to any in the United States. Venus too came into more favor; and after a while we almost forgot the beef story.



CHAPTER XVI.

Time passed on; I had almost reached my fifteenth birthday, and began to consider myself no longer a child. I was very tall for my age, and quite showy-looking; and gentlemen who visited at the house now treated me with all the attention due a young lady; which flattered my vanity very much, and made me think them very agreeable. I remember my father's once sending me from the room, on account of some gentleman's nonsense which he considered me too young to listen to; but I felt very much hurt at such treatment, and almost regarded myself as some heroine of romance imprisoned by cruel parents. Novels were a great injury to me, as indeed they are to every one. Their style was much more extravagant and unnatural than at the present day; and even at this early age, I had read the "Children of the Abbey," the "Mysteries of Udolpho," the "Scottish Chiefs," "Thaddeus of Warsaw," and many others of the same stamp.

But how did I obtain these, you ask? My mother, with her sense and discernment, would not have placed such books in my hands; and you are right. My grandmother was an inveterate novel-reader, but very careful that her books fell into no other hands; so that the only means of satisfying my taste for romantic reading was by stealth. Although novels were proscribed, no other books were placed in my hands; there were then scarcely any children's books published, and consumed as I was by an inordinate passion for reading, was determined to indulge it without being very particular about the means. How often have I watched my opportunity when my grandmother had left her apartment for an afternoon visit or drive, and then drawn forth the cherished volume from beneath the pillow and even from between the bed and sacking bottom! so carefully were they concealed from view. Sometimes, indeed, she locked the door of her room, and took the key with her; and then all ingress was impossible.

What wild, foolish dreams I indulged in!—What romantic-visions of the future that were never realized! How well I remember my sensations on reading the "Scottish Chiefs." Wallace appeared to me almost in the light of a god—so noble, so touching were all his acts and words, that I even envied Helen Mar the privilege of calling herself his wife, and then dying to lay her head in the same grave with him. I resolved to give up all the common-place of life, and cling unto the spiritual—to purify myself from every earth-born wish and habit, and live but in the hope of meeting with a second Wallace. I persevered in this resolution for a whole week; and then meeting with some equally delightful hero of an opposite nature, I changed from grave to gay. My mood during these periods of fascination was as variable as the different heroines I admired. Now I would imitate the pensiveness of Amanda, and go about with streaming tresses, and a softly modulated tone of voice—then I would read of some sprightly heroine who changed all by her vivacity and piquant sayings, and immediately commence springing down three stairs at a time, teazing all the children, and making some reply to everything that was said, which sometimes passed for wit but oftener for impudence—and then again some noble, self-sacrificing character would excite my admiration, and oh! how I longed for some opportunity to signalize myself! A bullet aimed at some loved one, whom I could protect by rushing forward and receiving it myself; but I was not to be killed, only sufficiently wounded to make me appear interesting—disabled in the arm, perhaps, without much suffering, for bodily pain never formed a prominent feature in my ideas of the romantic and striking—I was too great a coward; or else a plunge into the waves to rescue some drowning person from perishing, when I wished just to come near enough to death to elevate me into a heroine for after life.

I looked in the glass, and seeing large, dark eyes, a healthful bloom, and rather pretty features, I concluded that I need not belong to the plain and amiable order, and began to wish most enthusiastically for some romantic admirer; some one who would expose himself to the danger of a sore throat and influenza for the sake of serenading me—who would be rather glad than otherwise to risk his life by jumping down a precipice to bring me some descried wild flower, and who, when away from me, would pass his time in writing extravagant poetry, of which I was to be the bright divinity. Old as I am, I feel almost ashamed to repeat this nonsense now; and had I then possessed more sense myself, or made by mother the confidant of these flights of fancy, I need not now relate my own silly experience to warn you from the effects of novel-reading.

Charles Tracy did not at all realize my romantic ideas of a hero; and one bright day the dissatisfaction which had been gradually gathering in my mind expressed itself in words. I had gone down to a lake at the bottom of the garden to indulge in high-flown meditations; and Charles Tracy stood beside one of the boats which were always kept there.

"Come, Amy," said he, as I drew near, "it is a beautiful day—let us have a row across the lake."

"No," said I, twining my arm around one of the young trees near, "I prefer remaining here."

"You had better come with me," rejoined Charles, "instead of keeping company there with the snapping-turtles. Well," he added after a short pause, "if you will not come with me, why I must go alone."

"Go, then!" said I, bitterly, "you love your own pleasure a great deal better than you do me!"

"Why Amy!" he exclaimed, coming close to me as though doubtful of my sanity, "how very strangely you talk! You know that I love you very much," he continued, "for haven't we been together and quarrelled with each other ever since I can remember? And do I not now bear the marks of the time when you threw the cat in my face to end our childish dispute? And the scar where you stuck the pen-knife in my arm? And don't you remember how you used to pull my hair out by handfuls? How can I help loving you when I call to mind all these tender recollections?"

This reply provoked me very much; and I answered energetically: "You do not love me!—you do not know how to love I When did you ever make any sacrifices for me?" I continued in an excited manner, "When did I ever hear you singing beneath my window in a tone meant for no ear but mine? When did you ever rush with me out of a burning house, or encounter any danger for my sake? When did you ever watch for a glimpse of my taper at midnight when all others were asleep?"

During the progress of this singular speech, Charles Tracy's countenance had gradually changed from the surprised to the amused; and when I had concluded he laughed—yes, he actually laughed! What a damper of sentiment!

"Laugh on," said I, in a dignified manner, as I turned my steps homeward, "that has now put an end to all."

He was but a boy—I, a woman, for should I not be fifteen to-morrow? and I walked away from him in contempt; while he quietly jumped into the boat and rowed across the lake, whistling a tune. But I had not proceeded far before a loud "ha! ha!" from my brother Fred sounded close at my side; he had been an unobserved listener to the whole conversation, now enjoyed the pleasure of teasing me all the way home.

"That's right, Amy!" said he, "Keep up your dignity, child. What a rich scene! 'When did you ever watch for a glimpse of my taper at midnight when all others were asleep?' Rather a hopeless watch, I'm thinking, as you sleep in the middle room between mother's and the nursery; and between you and I, Amy, you know that you don't burn a taper, but a brass lamp; but that, of course, isn't quite so poetical to tell of. Such an air, too!—what a rare tragic actress you'd make! Do say it over, won't you? I have almost forgotten the beginning."

I gave Fred a boxed ear, which must have stung for sometime afterwards; and running hastily into the house, locked myself up in my own room till tea-time. The next day was my birthday; and while my table was strewn with acceptable gifts from all the others, I perceived among them a very antiquated-looking cap and pair of spectacles, to the latter of which was attached a slip of paper, on which was written: "To improve the impaired sight of my dear sister Amy, produced by her declining years; also a cap to conceal the gray hairs of age, and 'Young's Night Thoughts' for the edification of her mind."

I was almost ready to cry from mortification; but I remembered that I was now fifteen, and took the articles down stairs for the purpose of exposing Master Fred, but what did I get for my pains? In justification he told the story of yesterday, in his own peculiarly humorous way; and when I saw myself thus reflected, the ridiculous tendency of my words and manner struck me forcibly, and I was almost ready to laugh. But the others did that abundantly for me, while wondering where I had picked up such notions; and Grandmother Chesbury, I verily believe, suspected that I had been at her novels, for after that I never could find one.

But although I was thus debarred from receiving any new impressions, the old ones still continued in full force; and at last came the long desired opportunity to signalize myself. I was then almost sixteen, and the treaty of peace with England had just been celebrated. I remember well the illuminations and festivities on the first night of the proclamation, which we spent in the city at a friend's house; the balconies were wreathed with flowers, lights blazed from every window, crowds of beautifully-dressed women filled the rooms, and the sounds of music and dancing were heard in every street. It was my first evening in company—my first experience of admiration; and completely carried away by the music, the lights, and the occasion, the old desire for some signalizing deed came thronging back in full force, till I grew almost bewildered. No opportunity offered that night; I could only join in the festivities, and listen to the feats and praises of others; but towards the latter part of the evening my eye was attracted by the brilliant uniform and handsome appearance of a young officer who passed through the rooms, and lingered a moment in a distant corner among a knot of friends who crowded eagerly about him. His commanding figure, beautiful features, and intellectual, yet sweet, expression, completely realized all my ideas of a novel-hero; I saw my father speaking to him, and immediately made signs to introduce him, but before I could catch his eye, the officer had disappeared. Papa told me that Major Arlington's father had been an old friend of his, and he would have introduced him to me, but business called him in another direction, and he could not stay a moment longer, but promised us a visit at an early day.

You need not smile, Miss Ella, and look so knowing at the mention of the name; how do you know that there were not two Arlingtons in the world? How do you know but that it was his brother I married? How do you know—but never mind, I will go on with my story. It was several days after that eventful evening, which still left a vivid impression upon my mind; the desire to perform some wonderful deed remained in full force, mingled with visions of the young officer, and I wandered about, without paying much attention to my ordinary duties. Papa and mamma were both from home, and Grandmother Chesbury had locked herself up with a new novel; while I was roaming about the grounds not far from the front entrance.

A sound of wheels suddenly struck upon my ear; I supposed it was some visitor and paid not much attention to it; but before long there was a confused noise of voices—a sound of plunging and rearing—and a distinct crashing of some heavy vehicle. My evil genius led me to the spot; I beheld a handsome carriage, which the horses seemed striving to dash in pieces—caught a glimpse of a glittering uniform inside—and following a wild impulse, sprang forward and endeavored to seize the bridle. I heard some one say, "Take care of the young lady!" and then the officer jumped from the carriage, while I was thrown down close to the horses' feet. A confused hum sounded in my ears—and then followed a long blank.

* * * * *

When I awoke to consciousness I found myself lying on a sofa in a small sitting-room; but no one was bending tenderly over me—not even a mother's face met my eyes—but the gossip of two women servants grated painfully on my ear.

"What under the sun possessed Miss Amy to go and cut up such a caper as that!" said one of them, "All the mischief she's done this day won't be done away with for weeks to come."

"No, indeed!" rejoined the other, "that young officer is a fixture here for six weeks at least. Rome wasn't built in a day, nor are broken legs healed in ten minutes—and such a beauty as he is, too! It's shameful to think of!"

"If she'd only let him alone, he'd done well enough—but she must go and jump right under the horses' feet, so that, of course, he had to spring out to prevent her being killed, and that broke his leg, while she wasn't hurt a bit. Speaking of beauties, if Miss Amy could only have seen herself then!—spotted with mud from head to foot, and her hair flying in all directions!"

On hearing that I was not hurt, I sprang from the sofa and rushed to the glass, where I encountered the reflection of a most pitiable-looking figure. Even my face was daubed with mud and dirt, and I looked like a veritable fright. Shame, mortification, and sorrow for my heedless conduct almost overwhelmed me. In the selfish desire to signalize myself, I had hazarded the life of a fellow-being, and brought upon him weeks of suffering which no act of mine could now alleviate. The tears rolled down my cheeks; but having ascertained that my parents had not yet returned, I cut short the gossip of the servants, and ordering them to bring me some water, I arranged my disordered dress for a visit to the sufferer's apartment.

Doctor Irwin had been instantly sent for; and when I entered the room, he was seated by his patient's bedside, while Major Arlington lay with closed eyes and pallid features in a kind of sleep or stupor.

"Miss Amy," whispered the doctor, "this is a sad business—and your parents from home, too. What will be their feelings on their return?"

I glanced at the motionless figure of the young officer, and too much ashamed to reply, hung my head in silence.

"Are you sure that you were not at all hurt, my dear child?" he continued in a kind tone; "What a very wild proceeding it was to throw yourself into the melee! If two men could not manage the horses, could you suppose that your strength would be sufficient. You should have reasoned with yourself before taking such a step, for you see the unfortunate effects of it."

Reason! there was not the least particle of reason in my whole composition; this was a wild, impulsive act, performed without the least thought for the probable consequences, and I now stood gazing on the wreck I had made, in silent bewilderment. My parents soon returned; and hurrying to the apartment with countenances of astonishment and fear, there realized a confirmation of the dreadful accounts they had been assailed with. "And who was the author of all this mischief? Amy." My eyes drooped under the stern, reproving glances I encountered, and I crept about the house like a guilty thing—fervently wishing for the bodily suffering I had brought upon the victim of my wild attempt, instead of the pain of mind with which I was tormented.

Days passed on, but the lapse of time was unheeded by me; my post was by the bedside of the sufferer—my employment to anticipate his slightest wish, and yield to every humor. As he grew better I read to him, sung to him, talked to him; and in return received the grateful glances of those expressive eyes, which followed me about whenever I moved from his side. At length he could sit up in his apartment, and then walk slowly through the grounds, with the assistance of a heavy cane on one side and my arm on the other; till at last he was pronounced to be as well as other people; or, as Dr. Irwin expressed it, "as good as new." Your eyes are brightening up, Ella, in anticipation of a most sentimental love-tale; but I shall not gratify your desire of laughing at your grandmother's folly; but shall only say, that before he left, I had promised, with the consent of my parents, to become Mrs. Arlington. I was married at eighteen, and, strange to say, to one who appeared a realization of all my girlish fancies; he was noble-minded, warm-hearted, and almost as enthusiastic as myself—with a sweetness of temper which I have never seen raffled, except by some act of injustice or cruelty.

But do not flatter yourself, Ella, that life glided on with me like the pages of a romance; I was obliged to lay aside a great many silly theories which I had indulged in, and come to plain reality much oftener than suited my inclination. A perfect person is not to be found upon earth; when disposed to murmur at not meeting with the sacrifices you expect, ask yourself if you would be willing to make these sacrifices for another—and then be not surprised that others are not more free from the dross of self-consideration than you are. Also, do not suppose that it was my hair-brained performance at our first meeting which attracted my husband's affections; no, often has the color mounted to my face at his reference to that scene, and his own impressions then.

"You reminded me, Amy," he would say, laughing, "of some reckless sprite from the kingdom of misrule, who had flown into the scene, determined to make all the trouble she could. It was very chivalrous of you, to be sure, and I ought to be very grateful—but I must own that I felt exceedingly provoked at being obliged to risk my life by springing out to rescue you from the horses' hoofs. But never mind, chere amie" he would add as he saw the hot tears starting to my eyes, while face, neck, and brow, were suffused with the hue of mortification, "there was an after-page in the sick-room, when I beheld, with surprise, my crazy heroine transformed into the demure, and gentle nurse, and learned to distinguish a soft-toned voice, which always lingered in my ears like pleasant music; so that after all, I am really indebted to you, Amy, for making me break my leg—for, if you had not done so, I am afraid I never should have discovered my jewel of a wife."

So much for my romance; but the scene generally ended with the kiss of reconciliation, and I, too, learned to smile at my act of girlish folly.

"My tale is told; my parents have long slept beside each other, where the long grass waves over them—my elder brothers are still living—my brother Henry is a beloved and venerated clergyman in one of our large cities—while the wild, hair-brained Fred became a talented lawyer in the same place where he is universally respected. The rest of my brothers are all dead; and we three only survive out of a family of nine. Perhaps at some future time I may give you an account of my residence in England; but I must now conclude my adventures for the present."

Here ended my grandmother's history, which had afforded us many evenings of amusement. We were both surprised and pleased at her frankness in speaking of her faults and mischievous acts; and could indeed hardly comprehend that the very sensible, dignified lady before us had ever been such an odd, harum-scarum sort of character—yet so it was, and she had kindly related her own experience for our improvement. The last chapter was intended more especially for my own particular edification; but we all laughed heartily at my grandmother's ideas of signalizing herself. That room is to us a charmed spot; and we look forward most anxiously to the time when she is to begin an account of her life in England.

THE END