Saturday trance of a deep glen plentifully supplied with water, | to have forsaken him, and he was at once humble, and accessible only by a very narrow defile. His penitent, and abject. His men made many attestabrother Accompong he established on the northern tions of joy when they found they were to be friends borders of St. Elizabeth, where the country afforded with the white people. plenty of cattle. For several years the Maroons thus lived in a state of savage freedom: in indolence while their provisions lasted, and ravaging the surrounding country when these were exhausted. It is said that while committing these depredations they were tolerably quiet, unless by any accident blood became visible, and then no chief had power to stay the hand of his meanest follower. So anxious did they become to destroy life while thus excited, that they were too impatient to torture their prisoner, but despatched him as speedily as possible. This continuous and harassing warfare with the Maroons was most distressing to the inhabitants of Jamaica, and in accordance with the earnest wishes of the whole white community the Governor proposed a treaty of peace. It was stipulated in this treaty that Cudjoe, his captains and adherents, were to enjoy a state of entire freedom, that they were to keep in their possession a large tract of land lying near Trelawny town, and be allowed peaceably to cultivate the soil and sell the produce thereof at the Jamaica markets, but that they were to be true and loyal subjects to the king, and to be ever ready to assist in putting down rebellion among the slaves. The Dr. Russell was chosen to conduct the treaty with this singular and wild people. They were tired of war, and Cudjoe had sense to know that the proposal of the British government was by no means a disadvantageous one. Yet the Maroons could not quite trust the white men; so Cudjoe collected his force, and cautiously awaited the approach of the peacemakers, for Dr. Russell was accompanied by two friends. The negro chief had chosen a spot favorable for immediate action should anything like treachery be intended on the part of the English. His men were placed on a broad mountain ledge, the extremity narrowing into a passage, upon which the fire of the whole body might bear. In one of those deep dells, quite in the background, the women and children were concealed, and their valuable things deposited under the earth. Dr. Russell went forward alone, and begged to see Cudjoe. chief soon appeared, a short, very stout man, with strongly-marked African features, and a peculiar wildness in his manners. He had a large hump on his back, partly covered by the tattered remnant of an old blue coat, for he wore no shirt; a pair of loose trousers not reaching to his knees, and a small round hat without any rim, completed his eccentric costume. On his right side hung a horn with some powder in it, and a bag of large cut slugs. Under his left arm, supported by a narrow strap that went round his shoulder, was a mushat or short broadsword, and his person, clothes, and accoutrements were all soiled and stained with the red-brown earth of that part of the country. Dr. Russell was soon joined by his friend Colonel Guthrie, who offered to change hats with Cudjoe as a token of friendship. To this he agreed, and at length timidly entered into conversation with the deputy, persuading some of his men to come down from the rocks and stand by him, keeping possession of their arms. Cudjoe then threw himself on the ground, embracing the white men's legs, kissing their feet, and asking their pardon. All his habitual ferocity seemed Under a large cotton-tree, growing in the middle of the town, the treaty was signed, after which, with a few occasional outbreaks, the Maroons went on very well, assisting the white men to discover runaway slaves; and their help in this matter was invaluable, from the ease with which they traversed the woods. In 1795 the Maroon war broke out, but they were not all disloyal, for the Accompong Maroons -those who had for their leader Cudjoe's brother Accompong stood by the white men with unswerving courage, as did also other companies of this extraordinary set of people. I cannot enter into all the details of this war. Although Lord Balcarres, the governor, had 1,500 regular troops under his command, and some thousands of militia, yet the nature of the country distressed them in their marches; while to the Maroon, rock or precipice, tangled wood or slippery steep, presented no obstacle whatever, and their forest fastnesses were impregnable. The guerilla warfare cut off our men in numbers, and the public mind, considerably agitated by the great revolution in France, and the state of affairs in St. Domingo, was very much in fear of a revolt of the slaves throughout the island. At this crisis, a commander of the Spanish chasseurs offered, with a few of his men, accompanied by their Cuba dogs, to bring in the rebellious Maroons from their strongholds in the heart of the great forest. These dogs were well broken in: that is to say, they never killed the object they pursued, unless they were resisted. On reaching a fugitive negro they barked at him till he stood still; then, crouching near him, terrified him by growls whenever he attempted to move, at the same time barking occasionally to give notice to the chasseurs of their success, who, when they arrived, easily secured their prisoners. When the Maroons found that they had lost the security of the woods, they surrendered in vast numbers. Many of them were sent to Nova Scotia, the people there engaging them in a kind of apprenticeship. The first winter that these negroes spent in very Nova Scotia was one of unusual severity. While it lasted the Maroons were housed, fed, and kept warm, amusing themselves sometimes throughout the whole day by playing at cards. However, when the warmer weather came, softening the streams and smiling on the pastures, the Maroon was unwilling to work, in many instances sulkily refusing to do so. This state of things could not be continued, and the negroes were sent off to Sierra Leone, the Maroons in Africa having consented to receive them. For some little time Jamaica was tranquil, but in 1798 a band of runaway slaves formed themselves into a body under a negro leader called Cuffee. Their stronghold was in the heights of the Trelawny mountains. The banditti gradually increased, and excited the greatest alarm in the country. Lord Balcarres convoked the Assembly, sending against the rebels that kind of force which effectually dispersed them. He ordered that the Accompong Maroons should accompany the militia, "for," said he, "they are a body of men who have ever remained faithful to their king and country." The Maroons still keep up a distinct character among the negroes in Jamaica, and the descendants | My father glanced through a couple of letters, of the Accompong Maroons are at the present time which did not seem to please him much. among the bravest in warfare engaged in putting "Read that from Jacob," said my mother, pointdown this dreadful rebellion. Strange that Gov-ing to one. ernor Eyre bears testimony to their good conduct in words of the same import as those spoken by Lord Balcarres full seventy years ago. UNCLE JACOB'S WIFE. WE were sitting round the breakfast-table, my father, mother, brother Tom, two sisters, and myself, one winter's morning, when the letters came in, nearly an hour late, for, contrary to the custom of many country places, we had an eight-o'clock delivery. "Postman says, sir, that the roads are frozen so slippery that he had to leave his horse at a farmhouse, and walk over with the bag," said James apologetically, as he laid the letters by my father's plate. "There's always something wrong," said my father with a shrug, "when I am expecting important letters." "Give the man a glass of beer," said my mother, as James left the room. The girls smiled to each other at the lofty sound, "important letters," though, to be sure, the prices of oats, wheat-straw, and potatoes were very important matters in our father's eyes. We, however, cared little whether sheep ruled at heavy rates, pigs were lively, or turnips dull, for it did not seem to make much matter to us whether the markets were up or down, my father never making money in either case. It is not wonderful, therefore, that we should have lost our interest in farming details. My mother used to take these little misfortunes very quietly. "Your father will never make his fortune, my dears," she would say with as pleasant a face as possible. "He isn't the man to do it, even by accident; but as long as he gets enough out of the farm to let us live comfortably and want for nothing, I think we ought to be content; and then, you know, there is Uncle Jacob to fall back on." "If my father would just pitch that scientific nonsense of his on one side he would soon make the farm pay: I wish chemistry had never been invented," was Tom's irreverent opinion; and as far as regards my father's application of science to the working of our farm, Tom was practically right. My mother supported my father's views with all her might, but as Tom said: "My mother would be ready to see snow in August, if my father saw it." And this was as it should be, and she and my father had the full comfort of their unanimity. “Tom, my dear,” said my mother one day, when he was trying to persuade her to give her voice against one of his father's newest notions, "I would not oppose your father's opinion for almost any consideration. We should save twenty pounds, you think, on the five-acre field, if we were to-" "Yes, certainly; quite twenty pounds," interrupted Tom. "But your father would not be pleased, and I would pay twenty pounds any day (if I had it), rather than have him vexed." "The day will come, mother, when you won't be able to afford it: it's quick work going down-hill. One comfort is, however, if the worst comes to the worst, we have Uncle Jacob to fall back on some day." But we have wandered from the breakfast-table. "How do you know it's from Jacob?" asked my father, always a little jealous if he thought his letters were in any way scrutinized, even to the reading of a post-mark. "I see his writing across the table," said my mother meekly. Here she touched another weak spot of my father's: he was the slightest bit envious of her better sight. "It will wait," he said, and chipped at his egg. But the touch of spleen was but momentary, and he presently broke Uncle Jacob's red scal. "He is coming here," he said, without looking up. "He will be welcome," said my mother, and my father read on. He always read straight through a letter before enlightening us. Suddenly his face changed. He turned pale, absolutely white, he whose complexion was like that of one of his own ruddy apples; his hand shook, too, and he threw down the letter. "What is it? Is he dead?" asked my mother in her fright, forgetting that she was looking at his writing. "Worse than dead!" said my father. "What has he done?" we three girls exclaimed in a breath. "Is it very bad?" for my father's face was a picture. “Pshaw!” said my father, and his color came back as he spoke; "he's going to be married.” "Married!" "Married!" "Married!" We all pronounced the dreadful word, and then there was silence, and we thought much and said little. The matter, in fact, was beyond speech. "There go your fortunes, girls!" said Tom, breaking silence, with a look that reminded me of his old mischievous school-boy days. "Hold your tongue, sir!" thundered my father. "I must say I think it inconsiderate of Jacob, highly inconsiderate," said my mother, but something in her voice pleaded for Uncle Jacob as she spoke; she was such an unreasoning sort of woman, my mother, in her habit of leaning to mercy's side. "Inconsiderate! Disgraceful!" said my father. "Yes, my dear Charles, very disgraceful," said my mother; but I caught the same tone of appeal in her voice. "Shameful! Ridiculous! Unheard of!" My father was given to the piling of epithets. "Pitiable in a man of his age!* "He is old to marry," said my mother. "Old! Only think of it. I am sixty-seven, and he is not two years younger." "I suppose he was very lonely." "Why could he not have come here, then?" "His business, my dear," said my mother. "I suppose he cannot leave his office in town for long." "Why not have asked one of the girls to go and live with him if he was lonely? Lonely! nonsense! The man has no more feeling of loneliness or anything else than a dried stick. Lonely!" "It seems a pity," said the gentle voice of the gentlest of all gentlewomen. "You don't appreciate the case at all, Mary! The old goose! So, nothing but marrying will serve his turn and all out of spite too! Well, he is bringing a fine lot of cares on his shoulders, and so he 'll find. There's an end to his quiet life now. - The trouble of a wife-" Here my father checked | been lamenting in his presence that we girls could himself, seeing something perhaps in my mother's have no fortunes. face. "Tom must have the farm, of course; and then if he marries?" my father had said; and Uncle Jacob had said, "Don't fret yourself about their fortunes." There was no promise in the words certainly, that is, no promise expressed, but did not an implied one lurk there so slightly hidden as to be seen? We thought so, and rejoiced and made merry over it, and made sure of our fortunes from that day forward. "I wonder if he will ask us to the wedding?" said Nettie, the youngest and liveliest of us all, as we sat together over the fire in the work-room. "He may spare himself the trouble,” said Jane. "In any case, it would not be wise to offend him," I observed. It does n't signify whether he is offended or not," Isaid Jane with a toss. "His wife will take care of now." The moment my father left the table, our pent-him up feelings had free play, and we relieved ourselves by much conversation, my mother playing the part of moderator. you see. "I should dearly like to be asked," said Nettie. "Why?" "Why, Kate, it would be such rare fun!” "Fun?" said I. "I do believe you think of nothing but fun, Nettie; and, after all, it will be very poor fun for us, this marriage." "He will look so odd! Think of the little wee man in his green coat, with his shining bald head, with his bridegroom's white gloves on, and a rose in his button-hole, putting the ring on her finger (he must have his spectacles on to do it properly), and saying all those things he will have to say. O, how romantic he will look! How ever can she find it in her heart to marry him!" And Nettie broke into one of her merry peals of laughter. "Such an old fright! How can she!" "She sees him through a golden mist," Jane said. "I should so dearly like to see it!-the wedding!" "I think your uncle has a right to please himself," she said as she left the room to attend to her household duties. Perhaps he had. People are not to be deprived of this right because they are old and rich, and have a circle of nephews and nieces expectant of solid remembrances in their wills. No, certainly not; but still it cannot be denied but that this news fell hardly on us; we had made so sure, But I have not described Uncle Jacob. This is easily done, though, there being very little of him to describe. He was a little man, not over five feet six, certainly with a little neat, small figure, surmounted by rather a long head. Uncle Jacob was a long-headed man in every sense of the word. His features were hard and small. I mean that they looked physically hard, wooden, for the expression of the face was good. His hands "If you go, you may go by yourself," said Jane. were hard and small too; in fact, the second finger"I do think you are like a child in some things still, of the right hand, where the pen leans, seemed Nettie, and yet you are twenty-two." turned to very bone. He was my father's only brother, and had been sent out early in life with fifteen hundred pounds in his pocket to make his own way in the world, when my father, as the eldest son, had inherited the freehold farm we live on. With my father, time had stood still, so to speak; he was no richer and no poorer now at sixty-seven than he had been forty years before; but things had been different with my uncle. He might sit down at the ink-stained desk in the little mouldy office in Mincing Lane, and take his hard pen into those small hard fingers of his, and write his hard name in the crabbedest of hands, and the cheque he wrote it on would be worth three hundred and twenty thousand pounds. So Mr. Sneck, his clerk, would say with a triumphant look to his familiars. As for Uncle Jacob, he never spoke about the state of his affairs: his mind was tight and trim, and self-contained like himself. "I shall never forget that fact, dear, you remind me so often; but when I think of your age, I feel quite like a child; thirty-five sounds quite important after my two-and-twenty. No, Jane, never mind, I'm sorry I said it; it was spiteful of me. Don't be vexed this time, and I'll never say a word about your age again." And Nettie put her mouth into such a pleading shape, that Jane could not have been angry if she had tried. A late learned prelate tells us, in an erratic offspring of his genius, that a little nez retroussé has had power before this to reverse the destinies of an empire. I wonder what his verdict on Nettie's mouth would have been. I know she ruled us like a little queen,- my father included; and I think her power was in her mouth. There was silence for a while, and our needles sped fast. "I wonder if she is young or old?” Nettie broke out. "Young, of course," said Jane "Silly old men are always taken in by girls young enough to be their granddaughters. Do you suppose he is going to marry an old woman?' "Of course she 's young," I said. "I should n't have thought he would have noticed one way or the other," said Nettie, laughing. Now, Uncle Jacob had never spoken a word of leaving us sixpence, but we built our hopes on the circumstances of the case, and very reasonably so, I think. He had not a single relation in the world outside our house. He had always been kind to us in his way, paying Tom's school-bills, and sending my mother presents of the quaintest ornaments that could well be seen. He was really fond of her, in his undemonstrative way, and had told my father confidentially several times that she was an "excel--I am going out." lent woman.' On one occasion, too, my father had "Hush!" said Jane; "here's my father coming." "Nettie," said my father, entering, "come into my writing-room; I want you to copy me some letters, "Very well," said Nettie; "only mind, papa, dear, me. Before a week passed, my father had another letter from Uncle Jacob, naming the wedding day, but not asking any of us to be present. you are not to be cross if I make mistakes. That's | wheels, and we went in a body to the hall, — all of to be your part of the bargain. Now, come and show us except my father, who kept out of the way, wishing to meet the happy pair privately. Nearer and nearer came the carriage-wheels, and we opened the hall-door, and stood just inside in the biting cold air, as the green carriage, bay horses, and yellow postboy came to the steps. She was tall - the bride inches taller than Uncle Jacob, tall and slight, and dressed in dark rich colors, but with so thick a veil down that we could not even make guess at her face, not even when she kissed us, for she only raised the corner, and let it down again. She was timid, no doubt, as my mother had said. "Come in, dear aunt, by the fire." "You must both be half frozen." "Although he invites himself here, in the coolest manner possible, the fortnight after," said my father. | "I would fill the house, sir; ask the Jenkinsons and young Clive here, and tell him there was n't room," was Tom's sapient rejoinder. "And make his wife an enemy for life," said Jane. My father shortly enjoined Tom to keep his ideas to himself, so he had evidently decided to receive the visit. "You are an hour later than we hoped you would be." "Dear Uncle Jacob, let Tom take your coat." Civil things we said of that sort, and finally marshalled our dear relatives to the fireside in the morning-room. The next question mooted was, whether Uncle Jacob would expect wedding-presents to be sent by his only relations. After much argument, it was decided that he would, so we girls set to work at once. I worked a most elaborate handkerchief for the future Mrs. Jacob, and enclosed it in the most perfect of sachets. Tom rode into Worcester, and "Stir the fire well in Mrs. Jacob's bedroom bebought a case of prettily cut and topped scent-bot-fore she goes up stairs," said my mother to the maid tles, a gem of its kind, for her toilet; into as she left the room, "and take up the spiced negus which piece of complaisance, however, it took us a when I ring. It is a great preservative from cold, whole morning's work to persuade him. Jane shone negus as we make it," said my mother, turning to conspicuous in the manufacture of a work-bag; but our aunt in an explanatory manner. Nettie, naughty Nettie, set to work on the braiding of a most striking waistcoat for Uncle Jacob himself. In vain we pleaded that he could never be induced to commit himself to the wearing of so very ornamental an article. "He shall wear it," she said: "he ought to be gay on his wedding-day. This will smarten him up from a dingy old moth to a butterfly. He won't know himself." My father saw her at her work, and asked who it was for. "Uncle Jacob," said Nettie boldly; and when my father looked amazed, she fairly laughed in his face. "He will look very nice in it." My father was not equal to the occasion, and turned away. As to commanding or exhorting Nettie, when she was minded to go her own way, he would just as soon have thought of using his loaded stick to flip a butterfly off one of his roses. Nettie knew this, and when we threatened her, she would laugh and say: "No, he won't! He won't say a word; he'll lift his eyebrows at me-so- - and that 's all." What my father's present to Uncle Jacob was, we never knew, as he has been grimly silent on the subject from that day to this. The wedding-day passed, and the fortnight's honeymoon passed, and the bride and groom were to be with us next day (roads permitting). It really was pleasant, their coming so soon, for our curiosity had been raised to the highest pitch, and had as yet had nothing to allay it, not a single particular as to the young lady's age, looks, manners, accomplishments, nay, nor even her name. My mother had thought to write to Uncle Jacob, asking a few questions as to these matters, "to show just a little kindly interest," she said, but had not done it, my father having looked things unutterable at the bare idea. My mother, in her motherly heart, began to pity the bride, as the hour came for the carriage to be heard crunching the frost up the drive. "She is sure to be nervous, poor thing. Mind you meet her kindly, girls. It is not her fault about the fortune, poor thing; I dare say she knows nothing about it." In one of my mother's pauses came the sound of "Thank you," said the veiled lady. Uncle Jacob in the mean time had taken the poker in hand, and was "mending the fire," as he called it, to such purpose that his yellow-brown face became suffused with ardent crimson, and we kept moving our chairs backwards half a foot at a time. "Yes," he said, replying to my mother; "it was (poke), "it was cold" (poke). "The roads were' (scrape of the lower bar) "like glass" (crash of the upper crust), " and we crept along slowly." "Will she never lift her veil?" pondered I, and caught myself wandering off into musings about the mythical" Pig-faced Lady," and her rich veil, never drawn aside for human eyes to gaze behind. What if my uncle had been tempted by visions of enormous wealth to marry -a what? Before I had decided as to the sort of ugliness, my aunt raised her veil, and I came back to every-day life. She raised her veil, and we all looked at her. Nettie made some excuse, and fled from the room, but I could hear her laughter at the end of the hall. I think even my mother was startled by the swarthy, gaunt face revealed. It was a Scotch face evidently, for the salient points of Scotch physiognomy were almost caricatured, they were so strongly pronounced. The high cheek-bones might have belonged to a Tartar. "Are you warm enough to go up stairs?" my mother asked her, with a tremor of surprise in her gentler tones. "You must speak out to her," said Uncle Jacob, with a curious quiver in the corner of his mouth. "Out?" my mother asked. "Yes, loud"; and again the quiver. "Janet!" and he moved closer to his wife, "Mary wants to know if you are ready to go up stairs?" He spoke in loudest tones. "What?" she said, turning an ear as deaf as Dame Eleanor Spearing's. "Up stairs?" "Yes. Will you go and take your things off?" "Yes, I am ready, quite ready, thank you"; and she turned to my mother, and rose from her seat. Ring for the negus," my mother bade me. "Janet, let me carry your cloak," she said in a desperate voice; but Aunt Janet was evidently dubious of her meaning till my mother had taken possession of that article. "Uncle,” said Tom, "I'll show you your dressing-room." "What on earth can he have done it for?" whispered Tom as he passed me. Jane and I were left together, and Nettie came back when she heard them pass up stairs. "O Nettie, why did you laugh in the hall?" I asked. "She would n't hear it," said Nettie; "and you know Uncle Jacob's always a little deaf." "You will be getting us into a scrape, indeed, if you don't take care." "Not I. O, what a bride!" "She is an odd-looking creature," said Jane. "Fifty at least." "We shall be as hoarse as rooks with shouting to her, if they stay for a week," said Jane. "What a sight the courtship must have been! Poor Uncle Jacob must have made love under difficulties indeed: the whole neighborhood must have been as wise as himself. How ever could he have managed it!" and Nettie burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, in which we both joined. In the height of our merriment, Aunt Janet entered the room. It was well she was so deaf, or she might have heard what would have vexed her. James and the parlor-maid waited on us at dinner in a state of much amazement. Their eyes seemed to be fascinated to her, however much they might try to look the other way. James was quite nervous, too, poor man, and absolutely jumped every now and then when my father roared out a piece of politeness to the lady by his side; but he did his best. He did not attempt to shout to her, for he was so proper-minded a footman, that he would have died rather than lift his voice and bellow in the unseemly manner required; so he employed dumb-show, -lifting up her wine-glass to her notice first, and then holding sherry and Sauterne before her in a beseeching manner, that she might elect between them. Nettie watched him gravely, but unluckily her eyes caught mine, and a spasm of silent laughter passed over her face. She did not laugh, however, and her potato did not choke her, so all was well. The evil moment was only deferred, however, for Aunt Janet bethought herself of the bag that hung by her side, and drawing thence a tube with bone, ear, and mouth pieces fitted thereto, she said to my mother, "Please, use my tube, and I shall hear you"; and uncoiled it as she spoke. "Take that end to your mistress," said my father to James; but never did tyro taking electric wire in hand look more uncomfortable than did James as he handled the unknown instrument. He seemed to expect a shock as he half-dropped it by my mother's plate. 66 Gently!" said Aunt Janet, who had the other end in her ear, and James started worse than ever. No help for it; Nettie must laugh; but with great skill she succeeded in producing a violent fit of coughing that made the tears run down her cheeks. My father explained the cause of my uncle's marriage to us in the evening after our guests had retired. "She was Samuel Marten's only child," he began. "His partner's?" said my mother. "Yes. When he told me that much, I saw daylight at once. Old Marten died in India over a year ago, and she came home." "I "That makes her so brown," said Nettic. thought she had an Indian sort of look." "Her fortune, of course, is very large; and not knowing into what hands she might fall, he thought it would be well to marry her; and she as a woman of sense, saw the wisdom of the step. Jacob has acted a very sensible part; so now all that remains is for us to be civil to her: she deserves it." "Did he say anything about her deafness, papa?" "No, child. Why should he?" "Did you?" "Nonsense! What does it signify? He'll only lead the quieter life for it. A wife's tongue Now, Mary," said he, looking at my mother, "now, Mary, you know what I mean.' "I was not saying anything, dear," said my mother; she led my father in a chain of silk, that was as strong as iron. What a wonder it is that women should ever be ignorant as to where lies the secret of their strength. How few men can resist the might of gentleness! My mother's gentle craft was partly natural, partly won loyally from the Holy Book that teaches so fully of the "soft answer" that is stronger than triple shield against the thrust of wrath. After a day or two, Aunt Janet took up the habit of coming to the morning-room directly after breakfast, and spending the whole forenoon there. At first, we were rather a silent party after she appeared. No matter how deaf your companion is, it is generally some time before you can cast off the mistaken idea that half of what you say is heard; and Aunt Janet had such a sharp sort of look about her unlike the patient, waiting look that deaf people usually acquire-that we were absurdly silent in her presence for a while. Nettie broke the ice first, and made some remarks as to Aunt Janet's personal appearance; but when I started, and looked at the poor lady's face, it was evident that all sounds fell idly alike on those dead ears of hers. "Do you know I like her?" said Nettie abruptly one morning, when my mother was urging us to be more attentive. "Of course, she 's the greatest old fright that ever was seen; but she is kindly and good-hearted, I am sure." My mother looked pained; "Nettie, don't speak of your aunt so. Never mind her looks: she cannot help them." "I suppose she cannot, mamma, and yet a sort of instinct makes me blame people for being ugly." It is n't her face I mind," said Jane, who had taken a strong dislike to our aunt; "but her voice is dreadful. Her voice is like the tearing of calico, and sets my very teeth on edge." Our aunt was sitting knitting quietly by the fire all this time. "She cannot help her voice," said my mother: "you should try and look at people's pleasant side, Jane." |