"I am going to get a whip top soon, and you may see it & whip it.'

"That is better," said Patty; "he understands his ps and qs. He really was a little boy, once, and played with a top! Who would ever believe it?"

"I have found out something else from that letter," said aunt Anna.

"Have you?" said Patty. "What is it?"

"First, that somebody had taught Washington grammar very carefully," said her friend. "It is often said that he was never taught grammar, and could not read a line of any language but English. I don't know about the languages; but a little boy, who was so young that somebody had to lead his pony, would never have written, if it be not rainy,' if he hadn't been taught. This little boy had a kind heart, too, or he wouldn't have shown the pictures to Sam. He was prudent, and knew what was proper, and that made him tell Sam, who was probably a little black boy, about the elephant who took such good care of his master's son."

"How much you do think of!" said Patty.

"But Washington was always so proper, aunty! Lincoln didn't seem to care so much what people thought, if he could only do right.”

"It is hard to tell what is right, sometimes," said aunt Anna, "and other people cannot decide that for us. I had a sharp lesson about that when I was a little girl."

"Oh, what was it?" said Patty, dropping her letters, and coming close to her aunty's knee. "You don't like moral books," said the Professor's wife, in a teasing tone.

"It isn't a book!" said Patty. "I can't help it, those Sunday School books are so stupid!they never tell me anything I don't know my own self."

"Neither shall I, little Patty," said aunt Anna, "but you may hear the story. It isn't my fault if it has a moral.

"You know I lived in Virginia, when I was a little girl," she began, "in the city of Richmond. It was a beautiful city then, for it was long before the war, and every winter it was very gay.

"My name was Anna Maury. My father was rich, and we lived in a fine house, with a large garden. Every winter, friends of ours from the

country used to come to town, and board at the hotels. Their little children were at school with me, and twice a week we all went to dancing-school together.

"One winter, when I was eleven years old, there were about twenty of us little girls and boys, who met every week to keep up our dancing. We went to each other's houses, and staid from four o'clock till eight. We danced from four till seven. Then we had our supper of Baltimore biscuits, sweet milk, fried oysters, and cottage cheese; and, as our mothers were always with us, we sometimes staid a while after tea, and played merry games.

"When the days were short, and it grew dark before tea-time, we used to get very tired waiting for supper. Sometimes none of us wanted to dance. Mamma has told you, Patty, how slow and careless the slave servants were. Most of our friends lived in a great deal of style; but it used to seem as if the candles would never be lit in the large rooms, and while they were dark, we were all as stupid as could be."

"I know," said Patty, "when I am married I am going to have a thousand lights."

We should have been very well off with a dozen," said aunt Anna; "but, Patty, I didn't like moral books in those days any better than you do. I was very fond of fairy stories; and half a dozen of the children, younger than myself, belonged to what I called my Fairy Circle.

"We used to meet together and dress ourselves up. We had green paper wings with silver stars on them, silver wands with real butterflies pinned to their tops, and caps that were altogether too splendid to talk about. When we were dresssed up, we used to sit down and tell fairy stories, and mamma always gave us some candy and cake.

"The Fairy Circle used to go to the dancing parties; and so one night the little girls got tired and sleepy before uncle Ben had lighted the wax candles, and they all came buzzing round me:—

can.'

"Oh, do tell us a story!' 'You know you 'Sit right down on the carpet, Anna Maury, and make believe we've got our wings on.""

"Yes, I knew I could tell a story; but I had

never talked before little boys or grown-up peopeople, and the large rooms at Governor Wise's were full. I hung back. All the children began to fret. I said I would go up stairs with my fairies, but mamma said it was too cold; and, in the midst of all our talk and scolding, the tea-bell rang, and we all ran out, and forgot about it. Afterward, as I came out from tea, I heard the colored people talking: Jist wish dat picaninny mine,' said the old nurse-'jis do now.'

ee e

'Step lively,' said uncle Ben; 'don't see what her maw's about; she so disobleegin'.'

"Walk right over folks' head, she will,' said another. I knew they were talking about me; but we were not brought up to have much respect for the opinion of our servants, and I did not feel very badly. Not long after the party broke up. Somebody opened the hall door, and the fresh breeze blew out the lights. Several of us stood waiting in the hall, and through the dark I heard Mrs. Wise's voice: 'Yes, I am afraid if she had been my child I should not have been so patient.'

""You needn't,' answered the sweet voice of