ong
since disappeared in the flourishing city; the house was of white brick,
three stories high, with rooms on each side of the front entrance. A
large and beautiful flower-garden was visible from the back windows; and
beyond this was a still larger fruit-garden, the gate of which was
generally locked, while a formidable row of nails with the points up,
repelled all attempts at climbing over the fence. The peaches, and
plums, apricots, nectarines, grapes, cherries, and apples were such as I
have seldom, if ever, seen since. My lather was wealthy, and my earliest
recollections are connected with large, handsomely-furnished rooms,
numerous servants, massive plate, and a constant succession of
dinner-parties and visitors. How often have I watched the servants as
they filled the decanters, rubbed the silver, and made other
preparations for company, while I drew comparisons between the lot of
the favored beings for whom these preparations were made, and my own, on
being condemned to the unvarying routine of the nursery. Childhood then
appeared to me a kind of penance which we were doomed to undergo--a sort
of imprisonment or chrysalis, which, like the butterfly, left us in a
fairy-like and beautiful existence. Little did I then dream of the
cares, and toils, and troubles from which that happy season is exempt.
My father realized in his own person, to the fullest extent, all the
traditionary legends of old English hospitality; he hated everything
like parsimony--delighted to see his table surrounded with visitors--and
in this was indulged to the extent of his wishes; for day after day
seemed to pass in our being put out of sight, where we could witness the
preparations going on for other people's entertainment.

The presiding goddess in our region of the house was a faithful and
attached old nurse, whom we all called 'Mammy.' Although sometimes a
little sharp, as was necessary to keep such wild spirits in order, the
old nurse was invariably kind, and even indulgent. It was well indeed
for us that she was so, for we were left almost entirely to her
direction, and saw very little of any one else. Mammy's everyday attire
consisted of a calico short-gown, with large figures, and a stuff
petticoat, with a cap whose huge ruffles stood up in all directions;
made after a pattern which I have never since beheld, and in which the
crown formed the principal feature. But this economical dress was not
for want of means; for Mammy's wardro