ite cotton curtains, gave an air of grandeur to one side
of the room. No one had slept in it for ten years, though it was made with
faultless precision. The quilt over it contained pieces of every calico and
gingham dress that had been worn in the Weston family since the Revolution,
and in the centre had been transferred from a remnant of curtain calico, an
eagle with outstretched wings. The pillow cases were finished off with tape
trimming, Alice's work, at Cousin Janet's suggestion. Over an old
fashioned-mahogany bureau hung an oval looking glass, which was carefully
covered from the flies. An easy chair stood by the window at the foot of
the bed, which had, like most of the other ancient looking pieces of
furniture, occupied a conspicuous place in Mr. Weston's house. Six chairs
planted with unyielding stiffness against the walls seemed to grow out of
the carpet; and the very high fender enclosed a pair of andirons that any
body with tolerable eyesight could have seen their faces in.

Over the mantel piece were suspended two pictures. One was a likeness of
Mr. Weston, cut in paper over a black surface, with both hands behind him,
and his right foot foremost; the other was a picture of the Shepherds in
Pilgrim's Progress, gazing through a spy-glass at the Celestial city.
Alice's first sampler, framed in a black frame, hung on one side of the
room, and over it was a small sword which used to swing by Arthur's side,
when receiving lessons in military science from Bacchus, who, in his own
opinion, was another Bonaparte. Into this room Phillis's children gazed
with wondering eyes; and those among the plantation servants who had been
honored with a sight of it, declared it superior, in every respect, to
their master's drawing room; holding in especial reverence a small table,
covered with white, which supported the weight of Phillis's family Bible,
where were registered in Arthur's and Alice's handwriting, the births of
all her twelve descendants, as well as the ceremony which united her to
their illustrious father.

Phillis was ironing away with a good heart, when she was interrupted by a
summons to attend her master in the library. She obeyed it with very little
delay, and found Mr. Weston seated in his arm-chair, looking over a note
which he held in his hand.

"Come in, Phillis," he said, in a kind but grave manner. "I want to speak
with you for a few moments; and as I have always found you truthful, I have
no doubt you