particularly am I fond of old ladies and gentlemen, with their
quaint stories of the days when they were young; those magical days,
when the sun shone quite differently from now--"so much longer and
brighter;" the soft summer breezes were sweeter and cooler, and the
winter snows were not the six-inch-deep affairs, we have at present, but
were up to the second-story windows; then the birds sang far more
sweetly than they ever do now-a-days: the peaches were twice as large,
the apples three times, and the gentlemen bowed four times lower, and
twenty times more respectfully.

The dearest of all my elderly relatives, is my mother's aunt--my
Great-aunt Mary. I wish you could see her sitting in a corner of the
fireplace, in a funny little black rocking-chair of hers, that is, no
one knows how old, with a mosaic patch-work cover on the back, always
busy with her knitting or sewing, and just the dearest, sweetest little
old soul in the world; though she is my _great_ aunt, I am so much
larger and stronger, that I could, if I pleased, catch her up in my
arms, and run all over the house with her, without her being able to
help herself. I mean to try it, sometime.

Aunt Mary's face is wrinkled, but her blue eyes are still clear and
bright--her soft gray hair is parted over a placid brow, her smile is
very sweet, and her voice so pleasant and kindly, that you feel as
though you could never do enough for her, and you love her
instinctively, the very first time you see her. I believe that is the
reason everybody calls her "Aunt Mary;" it seems as if they could not
help it, but I think it a great liberty.

Aunt Mary is not one of those _old_ old ladies, who think little folks
should sit upright on a hard wooden bench, with nothing to rest their
poor little tired spines against, and nothing to do but stare at the
fire, and twirl their thumbs.

She took a great-nephew of hers to church, not long ago, a little bit of
a fellow, and, I think, a perfect darling. Stanny had never been to
church before, and he was so surprised with the great painted windows,
and the quantity of people, that he sat up, in wondering silence, as
grave as a judge; and Aunt Mary was just thinking, to herself, "How well
Stanny behaves! really, I am quite proud of him,"--when, suddenly, the
organ struck up very loud, and Stanny, well remembering the organs in
the street, which he always ran to the window to see, shouted out loud:
"Why, Aunt Mary! there is an org