e
wreck of our former selves,--who has not seen one of us still the
delight and solace of some tender young heart; the confidant of its
fancies, and the soother of its sorrows; preferred to all newer
claimants, however high their pretensions; the still unrivalled
favorite, in spite of the laughter of the nursery and the quiet contempt
of the schoolroom?

Young and gentle reader, your sympathy or your sagacity has doubtless
suggested to you my name. I am, as you guess, a DOLL; and though not a
doll of any peculiar pretensions, I flatter myself that my life may not
be quite without interest to the young lovers of my race, and in this
hope I venture to submit my memoirs to your indulgent consideration.

I am but a small doll; not one of those splendid specimens of wax,
modelled from the Princess Royal, with distinct fingers and toes, eyes
that shut, and tongues that wag. No; such I have only contemplated from
a respectful distance as I lay on my stall in the bazaar, while they
towered sublime in the midst of the toys, the wonder and admiration of
every passing child. I am not even one of those less magnificent, but
still dignified, leathern-skinned individuals, requiring clothes to take
off and put on, and a cradle to sleep in, with sheets, blankets, and
every thing complete. Neither can I found my claim to notice upon any
thing odd or unusual in my appearance: I am not a negro doll, with wide
mouth and woolly hair; nor a doll with a gutta-percha face, which can be
twisted into all kinds of grimaces.

I am a simple English doll, about six inches high, with jointed limbs
and an enamel face, a slim waist and upright figure, an amiable smile,
and intelligent eye, and hair dressed in the first style of fashion. I
never thought myself vain, but I own that in my youth I did pique myself
upon my hair. There was but one opinion about _that_. I have often heard
even grown-up people remark, 'How ingeniously that doll's wig is put on,
and how nicely it is arranged!' while at the same time my rising vanity
was crushed by the insinuation that I had an absurd smirk or a
ridiculous stare.

However, the opinions of human beings of mature age never much disturbed
me. The world was large enough for them and me; and I could contentedly
see them turn to their own objects of interest, while I awaited in calm
security the unqualified praise of those whose praise alone was valuable
to me--their children and grand-children.

I first opened