his constancy, I dwelt on the beauteous Eliza’s charms, and said something about winning the goal at last.  But they were very much offended; they supposed that I was ridiculing them, and said that I had represented them as doing a great many foolish things which they had never thought of.  There was no use in attempting to pacify them—­I had thrown away my poetry where it was not appreciated; and Mr. Henshaw exclaimed in a tone of annoyance:  ’Now do, I beg of you, never let me see you again at the writing-desk!  You have done as much mischief with your pen as other women accomplish with their tongues.’  So I never sent poetry again to other people; but whenever I felt lonely, I sat down and wrote, and it has really been a great comfort to me.  One of these days, Amy, I shall give this all to you.”

When I returned home, the poetry was carefully laid in the bottom of my trunk; but I have my suspicions that for sometime after Jane kindled the nursery fire with it.  While looking over her things one day.  Aunt Henshaw showed me an old-fashioned pair of ear-rings, which I admired very much.

“I intended to give these to you, Amy,” said she, “but I see that your ears have not been pierced.”

“Why, I thought those holes always grew in people’s ears!” said I, in surprise.  “Have I none in mine?”

“No,” she replied, “they are always made with a needle, or some sharp instrument.”

“Does it hurt?” I inquired.

“Not much,” was her reply, and so the subject dropped, but I still pursued it in thought.

I fancied myself decked with the ear-rings, and the pleasure I should experience in showing them to Mammy and Jane; but then on the other hand, the idea of the needle was anything but agreeable, for I could not bear the least pain.  I wavered for sometime between the advantages and disadvantages of the operation.  This state of mind led me to notice people’s ears much more than I had formerly done; and perceiving that Sylvia’s were adorned with a pair of large gold hoops, I applied to her for advice.

“Why, Miss Amy!” she exclaimed, in surprise, “you are real shaller, if you don’t have your ears bored after that!  Why, I’d made a hole in my nose in half a minit, if somebody’d only give me a gold ring to put through it!”

“Who bored your ears, Sylvia?” said I at length.

“Why, I did it myself, to be sure.  Any body can do that—­jest take a needle and thread and draw it right through.”

I shuddered involuntarily; but just then Sylvia moved her head a little, and the rings shook and glittered so fascinatingly that I resolved to become a martyr to the cause of vanity.  The colored woman having agreed to perform the office, and Aunt Henshaw and Statia being out for the afternoon, I seated myself on a chair with my back against the dresser; while Sylvia mounted the few steps that led to her sleeping-room in order to search for a needle, and Holly endeavored to keep up my courage by representing the fascinating appearance I should present when decorated with ear-rings.