respects a very good woman, she was extremely vain, and had always
considered herself among the handsomest of her race.

As soon as Venus found herself able to speak, she went into the parlour
with her eyes flashing fire, and told Mrs. Evering that she must provide
herself with another cook, as she was determined to leave her that very
day. Mrs. Evering with much surprise inquired the reason, and Venus
replied, that "she would not live in any house where she was called an
ugly neger, the ugliest even of all negers, and likened to a brute
beast."

Mrs. Evering, who had forgotten her husband's remark, asked the cook
what she meant; and Venus explained by repeating all that Rosamond had
told her. Mrs. Evering endeavoured to pacify her, but in vain. Ignorant
people when once offended are very difficult to appease, and Venus had
been hurt on the tenderest point. She would listen to nothing that Mrs.
Evering could urge to induce her to stay; but exclaimed in a high
passion, "I never was called a neger before. I am not a neger but a
coloured woman. I was born and raised on a great plantation in Virginny
where there was hundreds of slaves, all among the Randolphs and sich
like quality, and nobody never called me a neger. And now when I'm free,
and come here to Philadelphy where nobody has no servants without they
hires them, lo! and behold, I'm called a neger, and an ugly neger too,
and a neger-monkey besides. No, no, I'll not stay; and Nancy the
chambermaid may do the cooking till you get somebody else. And a pretty
way she'll do it in. I'm glad I shan't be here to eat Nancy's cooking. I
never know'd any _white trash_ that could cook; much less Irish."

Finally, Mrs. Evering was obliged to give Venus her wages and let here
go at once, as she protested "she would never eat another meal's
victuals in the house."

When Rosamond came from school, her mother reprimanded her severely; and
when her father heard of the mischief she had caused, he would not
permit her to accompany the family to a concert that evening, as she had
been promised the day before.

After the departure of Venus, it was a long time before Mrs. Evering
could suit herself with a cook. Several were tried in succession but
none were good; and to Rosamond's great regret, they were never able to
get a woman whose skill in making pies, and puddings, and cakes, bore
any comparison to that of Venus.

Still this lesson did not cure her fault; she still told tales,