panying that hue, and lighted up by a
contented, sunshiny expression, which truly indicated the normal
state of her mind. A brilliant, yellow turban sat well upon her woolly
locks and a blue and red chintz dress, striped perpendicularly,
somewhat elongated the effect of her stout dumpy figure. She had taken
care of John during his babyhood and early boyhood, and he remained to
this day her especial pet and pride.

"Aunt Esther", said that young man, throwing himself into an
easy-chair, and assuming as lackadaisical an expression as his frank
and roguish face would allow, "I have just lost a friend".

"Yer have?" said his old nurse, looking round compassionately.

When did yer lose him?"

"About an hour ago".

"What did he die of, Massa John?"

"Of a painful nervous disease", said he.

"How old was he?"

"A few years younger than I am".

"Did he die hard?"

"Very hard, Aunt Esther", said John, looking solemn.

"Had yer known him long?"

"Yes, a long time".

Aunt Esther gave a deep sigh. "Does yer know weder he was pious?"

"Well, here he is. Perhaps you can tell by looking at him", said he,
handing her a tooth, he had just had extracted, and bursting into a
boyish laugh.

"O! yer go along, Massa John. I might hev knowed it was one of yer
deceitful tricks", said Aunt Esther, trying to conceal her amusement,
by putting on an injured look. "There, the fire burns now. Yer jest
put on them dry clothes as quick as ever yer can, or mebbe ye'll lose
another friend before long".

"It shall be done as you say, beloved Aunt Esther", said he, rising
and bowing profoundly, as she left the room.

Having obeyed the worthy woman's injunction, he drew the easy-chair to
the fire, leaned his head back and spent the next half hour hovering
between consciousness and dreamland.

From this state, he was roused by a gentle tap on his door, followed
by his mother's voice, saying, "John, dear?"

John rose instantly, threw the door wide open and ushered in the lady,
saying, "Come in, little queen mother, come in", and bowing over her
hand with a pompous, yet courtly grace.

Mrs. Lansdowne, when seen a short time since walking in her solitude,
seemed quite lofty in stature, but now, standing for a moment beside
the regal height of her son, one could fully justify him in bestowing
upon her the title with which he had greeted her.

John Lansdowne was fast developing, physically as well as mentally
into a noble manhood, an