Aunt Mary did not live in the kitchen because there was no other room. After a time I learned that there were a parlor and a spare bedroom on the lower floor, and that the front door opened into a hall that led to the parlor and then on to the kitchen at the back. As I grew older and gained her confidence, she told me that if I would go out in the tall grass by the pump and wipe my feet carefully she would let me come into the house. As I came up to the door, she looked at me suspiciously, to see that there was no dirt on my feet or clothes, and set me down in a straight wooden chair; then she kept on with her dish-rag, and plied me with questions as to the health of the various members of the family, and how they were progressing with their work. She never left the high oven, with its everlasting dish-pan, except to wipe imaginary dirt from some piece of furniture, and then go back to wring the cloth from the water once again. Although she almost always gave me a nut-cake or a piece of pie, she never invited me to dinner, and always asked me to go outside to eat. By slow degrees she told me about her parlor and spare bedroom. And one day, after watching me wipe my feet with special care, she took me into the hall, cautiously opened the parlor door, and let me into the forbidden room. As we went into the hall and the parlor, she took pains that no flies should follow through the doors; and then, when these were closed and we were safely inside the cool dark room, she slowly and cautiously pushed back the curtains, raised the window just enough to put through her long thin hand and turn the little blue slats of the window-blinds to let in some timid rays of light. Then she pointed out the various pieces of furniture in the parlor, with all the pride of possession and detail of description of a lackey who shows wandering Americans the belongings of an old English castle or country seat. On the floor was a real Brussels carpet, with great red and black flower figures. A set of cane-seated chairs—six in all—were placed by twos against the different sides of the walls; while a large rocking-chair was near the spare bedroom, and in the corner a walnut whatnot on which were arranged shells and stones. Near the centre was a real marble-top table, with a great Bible and a red plush album in the middle. A square box sheet-iron stove, with black glistening pipe, stood on one side of the room on a round zinc base. On the walls were many pictures hung with big red cord on large glass-headed nails. There was a crayon portrait of her father, a once famous preacher, and also one of her mother; two or three yarn mottoes in black walnut frames hung above the doors, and some chromos, which she said had come with tea, completed the adornment of the walls. The elegance of all I saw made the deepest impression on my childish mind. Not a fly was in sight, and everything was without blemish or spot. I could not refrain from expressing my admiration and