But experience is the best teacher, after all—­the lessons thus gained, though more disagreeable, are seldom forgotten; and I never again meddled with the chickens.

This seemed destined, though, to be a day of misfortunes, to which the chicken business was but a slight commencement.  The evening was most lovely, and I accompanied Holly, who bad gone to feed the pigs.  A fence separated the pen from the rest of the yard; and on this fence it was Holly’s usual practice to perch herself and watch the motions of her charges.  She looked so comfortable that I determined to follow her example; and having gained the eminence, I looked around in triumph.  But oh, how sad to tell! but a few moments elapsed ere I found myself floundering in the mire beneath; while the pigs all rushed towards me as though I had been thrown there for them to make a supper of.  Holly was quite convulsed with laughter; but my screams now became terrific; and calling Sylvia, the two extricated me from my unpleasant predicament.

I was truly a pitiable object, but my white dress was the greatest sufferer:  while the tears that rolled down my cheeks grew blacker and blacker as they descended.  I almost wished myself home again; but Sylvia, between her paroxyms of laughter, told me “not to cry, and they would soon make me look as good as new—­any how, missus musn’t see me in such a pickle.”  They fell to scraping and scouring with the greatest zeal, and then placed me before the kitchen fire to dry.

“How the pigs did run!” said Holly; “’spect, Miss Amy, they mistook you for a little broder!”

At this sally Sylvia laughed louder than ever; but perceiving my distress, she observed, in a kind tone:  “Never mind, Miss Amy, we can’t help laughing, you know—­and you’ll laugh too, when you git out of this here mess.  But we do really feel sorry for you, for you look reel awful; I only hope old missus won’t come in and ketch you.”

But in a few moments the kind face of Aunt Henshaw looked into the scene of distress which the kitchen had now become, and surprise at my appearance rendered her almost speechless.  But she soon recovered herself; and under her direction I was immersed in a tub of water, while my unfortunate clothes were consigned to the same fate.  After this ceremony I was advised to go to bed; and thither I accordingly repaired, thinking how forlorn it was to fall into the pig-pen on such a beautiful evening.

The whole household seemed disposed to bear in mind that unfortunate occurrence; when about to fall into mischief, Aunt Henshaw would say in a peculiar tone:  “Remember the pig-pen, Amy!” or, when troubling Sylvia, it would be; “I guess you learned that in the pig-pen, Miss Amy;” and even Holly took up the burden of the song, till I heartily wished that she had taken the plunge instead of myself.  Before long they all discovered that I was very prone to such scrapes; I dropped a very nice hat down the well, which, for fear of its spoiling the water, they spent a great deal of time in fishing up—­I fell from the mow, but fortunately sustained no injury; and Sylvia one day caught me skimming off the cream—­an amusement which I considered very innocent, but she speedily undeceived me.