The cousin, Lulu Carey, was a real romantic character, with a light, fragile form, milk-white skin, the faintest touch of carmine playing over the cheek, mellow gray eyes, earnest and loving, and a profusion of chestnut-brown hair fell in the richest ringlets to her waist. Her features and caste of face were perfect. She was habited in close mourning, for her mother had been dead but one year, and the half-perceptible shadow of grief that hung over her face, form and manner, rendered her glorious beauty even more attractive. It was a real pleasure to me to serve these young ladies, for though they were the élite, the cream of the aristocracy, they were without those offensive "airs" that render the fashionable society of the West so reprehensible. Though their parlors were filled every evening with the gayest company, and they were kept up late, they always came to their rooms with pleasant smiles and gracious words, and often chided me for remaining out of bed. "Don't wait for us, Ann," they would say. "It isn't right to keep you from your rest on our account." I slept on a pallet in their chamber, and took great delight in remaining up until they came, and then assisted them in disrobing. It was the first time I had ever known white ladies (and young) to be amiable, and seemingly philanthropic, and of course a very powerful interest was excited for them. They had been educated in Boston, and had imbibed some of the liberal and generous principles that are, I think, indigenous to high Northern latitudes. Indeed, I believe Miss Lulu strongly inclined toward their social and reformatory doctrines, though she did not dare give them any very open expression, for Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Smith were strong pro-slavery, conservative people, and would not have countenanced any dissent from their opinions. Mrs. Smith used to say, "Niggers ought to be exterminated." And Miss Lulu, in her quiet way, would reply, "Yes, as slaves they should be exterminated." And then how pretty and naïvely she arched her pencilled brows. This was always understood by the sisters, who must have shared her liberal views. Mr. Smith was so much absorbed in mercantile matters, that he seldom came home, except at meals or late at night, when the household was wrapped in sleep; and, even on Sundays, when all the world took rest, he was locked up in his counting-room. This seemed singular to me, for a man of Mr. Smith's reputed and apparent wealth might have found time, at least on Sunday, for quiet. The young ladies were very prompt and regular in their attendance at church, but I used often to hear Miss Lulu exclaim, after returning,