When Grandmamma Was New: The Story of a Virginia Childhood

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rter gained the draw-bars my reason was on the return path. I had the signal advantage above my comrades of not believing in ghosts. My father had asserted to me positively, once and again, that no such things existed, and put himself to much trouble to explain natural phenomena that are often misinterpreted by

can't get out to come back, an' th

ttle baby, but God and the dear angels would never let the helpless, tiny mite wander ba

at it did not begin to cry. Think how sweet it must be for it not to suffer now

r said what was not exactly true. Happy, safe, and saving faith of

ed again, yet more piteously, when I called to it. The sight sent me flying like a flushed partridge through the Old Orchard to the garden fence, over it and up the middle walk of the garden. While yet afar off, I saw my father standing there t

Alexander the Great com

rarely punished without inquiry. H

up some new sensation. There is such a thing as having too much 'mak

chokingly, for his words were a

hand away f

razy child, I will hear what you have t

of having exposed myself to his just criticism, the added disgrace of the grinning gardener's enjoyment of the figure I had cut-the absurd coal-scuttle of a bonn

t them, I say?" r

om," I stammered, fa

u found them! Then, come to

his directions

nts and rolled them into a compact bundle, but anybody who met me would ask what I was carrying under my arm, and I could bear no more that day. Unable to contain myself a minute longer, I sank down in the solitude of the steep staircase leading to the lumber-room, and had my cry-if not out-so nearly to the end that I felt adequate to making my judge s

slowly up the steps, and pushed back the door, which st

t it!" said I, pettishly, and flung my

, in a vile humor, recovered the detestable cause of all the trouble. I boxed the lop-ears of the bonnet, and gave the apron a vicious shake, in restoring them to their

eved that I saw with my natural eyes-Cousin Mary Bray seated in the rocking-chair between the hearth and the window, holding a baby in her arms. She was rocking gently ba

ing up there? Come down

mbled over something soft that mewed miserably. In a second I had it in my arms,

't you see? It is Alexander

il, when I recalled it in all its vividness, I simply could not speak of it? It was all like a swift, bad dream, the telling of which might revive the unpleasant sensation it created in passing. I do not pretend to explain a child's reserve on subjects which have gone very far into the deeps of a consciousness that never

e north wing was locked against him, he went back to the grave and could not be coaxed away. Finally, my mother proposed that he be allowed to stay there, until cold weather. He was the plantation-pet all summer, growing plump, but never playful, with nourishing food and rest. His meals were sent to him twice a day, but he par

ctual my father took him there in his own arms. The cat refused food and sleep, keeping the household aw

he anniversary of Lucy's death, and raged for three days. When the drift