What a blank fell upon my hopes at these cruel words!  The people looked so savage and unpitying, and I thought that after all we must stay at home—­there seemed no crevice of space into which we could force ourselves; and in silent consternation I surveyed Aunt Henshaw’s substantial proportions.  But she was an experienced traveller; and making her adieus with a degree of composure and certainty that quite reassured me, she took me by the hand and advanced to the stage as smilingly as though they had all invited her to enter.  The driver’s eagle eye spied out a seat for Aunt Henshaw—­a kind-looking old gentleman took me on his lap—­the door was closed, and away we rattled.  Aunt Henshaw, never much given to silence, found a congenial companion in the gentleman who had given me a seat; they were soon engaged in an animated conversation on the pleasures of farming, during which I went to sleep—­nor was I aroused until about two hours after, when we found ourselves landed at the wharf.  We went on board the packet, and proceeded to the cabin, where I was surprised, amused, and rather frightened at the appearance of the narrow-looking boxes which we were destined to sleep in.  But Aunt Henshaw assured me that there was no danger; and I found from experience that I could sleep almost as well there as in my own bed at home.

The wind was unfavorable, and we were almost a week on the water; but at length we reached New London and proceeded to Waterford.  Aunt Henshaw’s family, I knew, consisted only of a daughter—­her sons having married and settled away from her—­and to the meeting with this cousin Statia, I looked forward with some anxiety.  It was almost dark when we approached the house; a real farmhouse, with lilac and syringa bushes in front, and a honeysuckle running over the piazza.  A little dog came out and barked at us—­a sensible-looking cat rested on the porch—­and in the door-way stood Cousin Statia.  She kissed me affectionately, and appeared glad to see her mother; and we were all soon seated around the table, where fresh cottage-cheese, crimson radishes, and warm tea-cakes looked invitingly forth.

I was rather disappointed in the appearance of Cousin Statia; I had expected to see a fresh, smiling-looking country girl, but I found a stiff, demure-looking young lady, at whose age I scarcely dared venture a guess.  A little colored girl waited on the table, who evidently surveyed me with a great deal of interest; for I constantly caught the sharp glances of her little black eyes.  She had been christened Aholibama—­a name which she told me was taken out of some story-book, though I afterwards found that it was in the Bible—­but this being too long an appellation, they had abbreviated it to Holly.  During a hasty glance into the cheerful kitchen, I caught a glimpse of a very nice-looking colored woman, who, I afterwards found, was Sylvia, the cook.