there were no
guests to be invited, except plenty of wandering butterflies, or an
occasional humming-bird, whizzing about the crimson blossoms of the
balm. Oh, the delights of Aunt Rose's flower-garden!

Then, there were the chickens to be fed, and the milking of the cows to
be "assisted at," and a chat enjoyed, meanwhile, with good-natured
Nancy, the maid, to stand beside whose spinning-wheel when, in an
afternoon, she found time to set it in motion, herself arrayed in a
clean gown and apron, was another great delight.

But my greatest enjoyments were found in Cousin Mary Rose's pleasant
chamber, which always seemed bright with the sunshine. From its windows
I looked out over fields of grain, and fruitful orchards, and green
meadows, sloping all the way to the banks of the blue Connecticut. I
doubt if I had ever known before that there was any beauty in a
prospect. There was plenty of pleasant occupation for me in that
chamber. I had my little bench, on which I sat at her feet, and read
aloud to her as she sewed, something which she had selected for me.
Though I never had an opportunity of knowing her in years when I was
more capable of judging of character (for we were separated, first by
distance, and now, alas, by death), I am sure that she must at that time
have been of more than the average taste and cultivation among young
ladies. Sure I am that she opened to me many a sealed fountain. My range
of reading had been limited to infant story-books and easy
school-lessons. She took from her book-shelves Cowper, and made me
acquainted with his hares, _Tiny_ and _Bess_, and enlisted my sympathies
for his imprisoned bullfinch. She turned over many leaves of the
_Spectator_ and _Rambler_, till she found for me allegories and tales of
Bagdad and Balsora, and showed me the Vision of Mirza, the Valley of
Human Miseries, and the Bridge of Human Life; I caught something of
their meaning, though I could not grasp the whole, and became so
enamored of them that when I returned home nothing would satisfy me but
the loan of my favorites, that I might share the great pleasure of these
wonderful stories with my friends there. How great was my surprise to
find that the same books held a conspicuous place in the library at
home!

The little pieces of needlework, too, which filled a part of every day,
unlike the tedious, never-ending patchwork of school, were pleasant.
Cousin Mary Rose well understood how to make them so, when she c