"Who was Tay?" they both exclaimed. I felt a sense of self-reproach at the question; and I am sure to Tay herself the idea that one of her "chillun's chillun" could have reached the mature age of ten years and never had heard of her existence would have seemed incredible. It was not from any lack of kindly recollection of the old woman that I had not told the children of her; but my life had been a busy one, with many invalid times, when the reverses of life pressed heavily, and I shrank from speaking voluntarily of my childhood days, which had been so different from theirs; and besides the children of the South to-day, whose mothers were half-grown girls at the time of emancipation, belong to a new order of things, and are out of sympathy with their parents on many subjects. They do not understand their elders' feelings toward the negroes. They regard them with very impartial eyes, and see them as they are to-day. And as the succession of careless, ignorant cooks and housemaids come and go they cannot understand the kind allowances made for their faults by those who remember the tender nursing of the dear old maumas. But to return to Tay. "Who was Tay?" I repeated. "Why, one of the best of women; and it is high time you should hear about her, and love her memory. So if you will get your knitting and sit very quite I will tell you her story. "Her name was Kitty, but we children always called her Tay. When your grandmother was married Tay was given to her as her maid; and a most accomplished one she was, besides being a skilled seamstress, and clear starcher. A younger woman had taken her place as maid when I first remember her, and she was the upper servant, always carrying the keys, and taking charge of the household, when your grandmother was ill or absent. She was at least six feet tall; her waist claimed nearly half her length, or looked as if it did. She was quite light-colored, with large black eyes that looked as if a millstone would be no obstacle to her vision. I assure you her appearance was calculated to inspire awe in our breasts. Her great height was of itself impressive, and made more so by her costume. She usually wore a black frock with a very tight body, and full skirt; and an enormous bustle, such as was not worn in those days; a white hankerchief over her shoulders, pinned across her bosom; a white apron; and to cap the climax a very stiffly starched white turban (all the worn muslin dresses of the family went to keep up the supply). She always tied her turbans on a block to shape them, and stuffed a newspaper in the top to keep the shape; and when she finally put one on her head the effect was tremendous. Her pride in gold earrings was great. She always wore them, and kept them as shiny as could be. With the basket of keys on her arm, she would look like a person not to be trifled with, nor did we ever so venture. Her devotion to us all was very great--'Miss, Maussa, an' de chillun' bounded her horizon. Her idea