My grandmother indulged our curiosity to the utmost; now a pair of diamond ear-pendants would appear among the soft folds of perfumed cotton, and flash and glow with all the brilliancy of former days—­now a rich brocaded petticoat called up phantoms of the past, when ladies wore high-heeled shoes, and waists of no size at all—­and gentlemen felt magnificently attired in powdered curls and cues, and as many ruffles as would fill a modern dressing gown.  There were also fairy slippers, curiously embroidered, with neatly covered heels; and anxious to adorn myself with these relics of the olden time I attempted to draw one on.  But like the renowned glass-slipper, it would fit none but the owner, and I found myself in the same predicament as Cinderella’s sisters.  In vain I tugged and pulled; the more I tried, the more it wouldn’t go on—­and my grandmother remarked with a sigh, that “people’s feet were not as small as they were in old times.”  I panted with vexation; for I had always been proud of my foot, and now put it forward that my grandmother might see how small it was.  But no well-timed compliment soothed my irritated feelings; and more dissatisfied with myself than ever, I pursued my investigations.

My grandmother, as if talking to herself, murmured:  “How little do we know, when we set out in life, of the many disappointments before us!  How little can we deem that the heart which then is ours will change with the fleeting sunshine!  It is fearful to have the love of a life-time thrown back as a worthless thing!”

“Fearful!” I chimed in.  “Death were preferable!”

“You little goose!” exclaimed my grandmother, as she looked me full in the face, “What can you possibly know about the matter?”

I had nothing to do but bury my head down low in the trunk I was exploring; it was my last attempt at sentiment.  My grandmother took occasion to give me some very good advice with respect to the behavior of hardly-grown girls; she remarked that they should be careful not to engross the conversation, and also, that quiet people were always more interesting than loud talkers.  I resolved to try my utmost to be quiet and interesting, though at the same time it did occur to me as a little strange that, being so great an admirer of the species, she was not quiet and interesting herself.  But being quiet was not my grandmother’s forte; and it is generally understood that people always admire what they are not, or have not themselves.

CHAPTER II.

The old lady also possessed rather strict ideas of the respect and deference due to parents and elders; and poor mamma, whose authority did not stand very high, felt considerable relief in consequence of our, (or, as I am tempted to say, the children’s) improved behavior.  I remember being rather startled myself one day, when one of the before-mentioned little sisters commenced a system of teazing for some forbidden article.