The eventful morning arrived on which I was to take my departure. It was my first absence from home for any length of time, and I had scarcely been able to sleep at all during the night--my mind being occupied with the one all-engrossing thought. I scarcely dared to listen at first, for fear I should hear it rain; but the sun shone brightly in all the glory of a clear June morning, and springing out of bed, I dressed myself as expeditiously as possible, for fear that Aunt Henshaw might go off without me. "What then was my surprise, when after breakfast I saw the old lady sit down as usual, and after carefully wiping her spectacles, take up a book she had been perusing, just as if the greatest event of my life were not about to occur that very day? "Why, Aunt Henshaw!" said I in a tone of acute disappointment, "Are we not going to-day?" "Certainly, my dear," was her reply, "But the stage coach will not be here till two o'clock, and I have all my things ready." What could I possibly do with the six intervening hours? I too had all my things ready; and my spirits were now in a state that absolutely required excitement of some kind or other. I tried to read, but it was impossible to fix my thoughts on the subject--even the Arabian Nights failed to interest me; and after wondering for some time at Aunt Henshaw, who could view the near prospect of a journey that would occupy two or three days with the most perfect composure, I proceeded to my mother's apartment. I had not been there long before I got up a cry, and felt more doubtful than ever whether I wished to go. But mamma talked with me for some time; and having clearly ascertained that it was my parents' wish that I should go, in hopes of benefiting my health by the change, I comforted myself with the idea of martyrdom on a small scale. I put my doll to board with Ellen Tracy until my return, at a charge of so many sugar-plums a week; with strict injunctions not to pull its arms or legs out of order, or attempt to curl its hair. I could not eat a mouthful of dinner, but Aunt Henshaw stowed away some cake for me in a corner of her capacious bag; a proceeding which then rather amused me, but for which I was afterwards exceedingly thankful. The time seemed almost interminable; I threw out various hints on the value of expedition, the misery of being behindhand, and the doubtful punctuality of stage-coaches--but Aunt Henshaw remained immovable. "As to its coming before the appointed time," said she, "I never heard of such a thing. It is much more likely to leave us altogether."