“Blackey” was extremely mischievous, and rarely could be caught; but “browney” seemed a perfect paragon of gentleness and goodness—­and I would seat myself on the steps, holding him for hours, and listening to the monotonous hum of the locusts, which always filled my heart with a sense of quiet happiness.  Did you never sit watching the glorious sunbeams, as they fell on the soft, fresh grass, and with this low, soothing hum in your ears, feel that the earth was very beautiful?  I have; but then I was a dreamer—­an unmistakable, enthusiastic dreamer, and my fancies would, perhaps, be laughed at by the wise ones of earth.

To return to “browney;” my love cooled for him very suddenly one morning, as, with my finger in close proximity to his mouth, I sat and apostrophized him thus, “You dear, little angel, you!  I love you dearly!” a sudden closing of sharp little teeth on my poor fingers put an end to my rhapsodies; and the “little angel” was most unceremoniously dropped on the ground, from whence he made his escape to his usual home, the locust tree—­and I never again sought to entice him from his retreat.  I ran about the walks as usual this spring, but it was with languor and indifference that I visited our usual haunts; and I wondered what it was that made my steps so very slow and dragging—­it seemed as though a weight were tied on each heel.  If I attempted a race with the boys, I was obliged to give up from very weariness; and laughing at what they termed my laziness, they pursued their amusements without me.  Charles Tracy would now and then bring me a bunch of wild flowers; and to the surprise of all, I preferred sitting with them in my hands to joining in my usual noisy games.  I grew pale and thin; and Mammy and Jane began to express their uneasiness about me, while I often noticed my mother’s eyes fixed upon me in tender solicitude.

I went to bed one night feeling restless and feverish.  It was the latter part of April, and a small wood-fire still burned on the hearth; on the embers of which I fixed my eyes steadfastly, until strange shapes and burning eyes seemed moving about the quiet hearth.  I was quite alone; Mammy had gone out to spend the evening, and Jane was taking her tea in the kitchen.  Had it been for life or death I could not have spoken; I tried to scream—­but a hollow sound rattled in my ears—­and with the cold drops gathering on my forehead, I lay still, subdued, in a state of delirious agony.  I was almost senseless; until at length, feeling a touch upon my arm, and a breathing at my side, I started wildly up, and eluding all pursuit, fled swiftly down the stair-case.  I pressed my hand tightly on my throbbing head, and gaining the kitchen, burst suddenly in, exclaiming, “O!  Jane!  Jane! do not leave me again!” I sunk down insensible; and remember nothing but a scream of horror which proceeded from Jane, who, having just seated herself beside me as I sprang out of bed, had followed me in a state of breathless alarm to the kitchen.