A Grandmothers Recollections | Page 3

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.
"Mother, mother,--can't I have that set of cards? We want it in our
play-room--Phemie and me are going to build a house."
"I do not like to give you permission," replied mamma, looking
considerably worried, "for George does not wish you to have them."

"Oh, but George is out, mother--out for all day," rejoined the
precocious canvasser, "and will never know anything about it."
"But perhaps he might come home before you had done with them, and
George is so terribly passionate, and hates to have his things touched,
that he will raise the whole house."
"Poor boy!" observed my grandmother dryly, "What a misfortune to be
so passionate! A deep-seated, and, I fear, incurable one, Amy; for of
course you have used your utmost endeavors, both by precept and
example, to render him otherwise."
I almost pitied my mother's feelings; for well did I remember the
cried-for toy placed within his hands, to stop the constant succession of
screams sent forth by a pair of lungs whose strength seemed
inexhaustible--the comfort and convenience of the whole family
disregarded, not because he was the best, but the worst child--and often
the destruction of some highly-prized trinket or gem of art, because he
was "passionate;" the result of which was, that my poor brother George
became one of the most selfish, exacting, intolerable boys that ever
lived.
There was no reply, save a troubled look; and the little tormentor
continued in a fretful tone; "We'll put 'em all away before he gets in,
and never tell him a word of it--can't we have them, mother?"
My mother glanced towards her mentor, but the look which she met
impelled her to pursue a course so different from her usual one, that I
listened in surprise: "No, Caroline, you can not have them--now leave
the room, and let me hear no more about it."
"I want them," said the child in a sullen tone, while she turned to that
invariable resource of refactory children who happen to be near a door;
namely, turning the knob, and clicking the lock back and forth, and
swinging on it at intervals.
This performance is extremely trying to a person of restless, nervous
temperament, and my grandmother, setting up her spectacles,

exclaimed commandingly: "Caroline, how dare you stand pouting there?
Did you not hear your mother, naughty girl? Leave the room--this
instant?"
The child stood a moment almost transfixed with surprise; but as she
saw my grandmother preparing to advance upon her--her ample skirts
and portly person somewhat resembling a ship under full sail--she
made rather an abrupt retreat; discomposing the nerves of a small
nursery-maid, whom she encountered in the passage, to such a degree
that, as the girl expressed it, "she was took all