hair, that seemed to be always hanging about her face, and rather handsome features.  She spent most of her time in playing jackstraws with us, or else lounging on the sofa; muttering in rapid succession the words of a small prayer-book, which Captain Vardell told us she always carried about her, as it had been consecrated and given to her by a Spanish priest.  She appeared to us very much like a great overgrown baby; manifesting the most childish delight on winning a game, and equally angry when defeated.  Once, when in extreme good-humor, she shewed us how to make beads resembling coral, from a certain paste which she manufactured; but we never could extract from her the names of the materials, and were obliged to content ourselves with making them under her direction.

Mrs. Vardell was so extremely lazy that she would never stoop to pick up anything she had dropped.  If her handkerchief or prayer-book fell to the floor, she made motions for us to bring them to her; and when we sometimes mischievously pretended not to understand these signs, she would let the article remain until some one restored it to her.  She never seemed to experience the least emotion of gratitude, and received all favors as a natural right.  She was an extremely troublesome, exacting visitor, and we were not at all sorry when the time of her departure arrived.

My father had exerted himself on their behalf, and at the end of their visit handed Captain Vardell a handsome sum of money, collected from among his merchant friends and acquaintances.  People were much more liberal then than now, and the case of the Vardells did not fail to call forth their sympathy and generosity.  The Spanish lady made her adieus, if so they could be called, with an easy indifference—­apparently considering her fellow-mortals as machines invented for her sole use and benefit.  Captain Vardell presented us children with a handsome collection of shells, picked up on foreign shores during his numerous voyages; and some of them were very rare and beautiful.  Most of them had a delicate pink tinge, like the outer leaves of a just-blown rose; and we amused ourselves fur a long time by arranging them in a glass-case which my father gave us for the purpose.

Among our visitors was an aunt of my mother’s who lived in Waterford, Connecticut; and being a widow, with quite a large farm to attend to, her visits were never of long duration.  I became very much attached to her, for she often entertained us with long stories about the Revolution and the aggressions of the British soldiers—­about which you shall hear when I come to tell you of the long visit I made there one summer.  Aunt Henshaw was very proud of her farm and farming operations; her cattle and vegetables had several times won the prize at agricultural fairs, and she boasted that her land produced more than any of her neighbors’; who, being men, were of course expected to be more accomplished in such matters.  She appeared to delight in giving away things, and seldom made us a visit without bringing something of her own raising.  These little presents my father always repaid tenfold; and Aunt Henshaw departed without a new gown or hat, or something to show when she got home.  I believe that we generally anticipated more pleasure from her visits than from any of the numerous friends who often favored us with their company.