After her usual round of inquiries about the journey and her mother’s friends, Augusta, one day, concluded by saying, “My grandmother will be glad to see me――don’t you think she will, mother?” “Certainly,” replied the mother. “Don’t you think she will be very glad to see me?” “Yes,” said the mother, “she will almost eat you up.” The reply was inconsiderate, but who has not heard it a hundred times? Nothing more common――but it sunk deep into the heart of the child, and from that time, though she continued daily to talk of the contemplated journey, it was with diminished joy, and sometimes with positive reluctance. The idea of being devoured, and by one with whom she had associated so many ideas of tenderness and love, preyed, as it was afterwards discovered, upon her imagination, and nearly annihilated her hitherto happy anticipations. She frequently spoke of her grandmother’s devouring her, and on one occasion gave her father a pretty serious practical idea of the manner in which she expected her aged relative would proceed. She began by telling him what her mother had said――that her grandmother loved her so well that she would eat her up. “When she sees me, she will do _so_,” said Augusta――applying her sharp little teeth to his cheek, which brought the blood to the surface, and at the same time sent a pang to the extremities of his frame――“she will do _so_!” The time set for their departure at length arrived, and Augusta and her parents, in a few weeks, reached the place of their destination. From motives of convenience, the grandmother had, some months before, left her own residence, and was at lodgings in the village of W――――. Consequently, the parents of Augusta sought quarters at a friend’s in the immediate neighborhood. After a few hours’ rest, a call upon the grandmother was proposed, and Augusta was to accompany her parents. But she did not wish to go. “Why, my daughter,” inquired the mother――“do you not wish to see your dear grandmother?” Augusta was silent. “You were delighted,” continued the mother, “with the idea before you left home――what has changed your mind?” Augusta made no reply――but she did not wish to go. Thinking that her reluctance was the offspring of a childish whim, or at most the effect of timidity at meeting one who, notwithstanding her relationship, was indeed a stranger, but which would be removed in a single half hour’s acquaintance, she insisted upon her going. A walk of a few minutes brought them to the residence of this object of love and tenderness to the mother, but of distrust and terror to the daughter. They were ushered into her presence. The meeting of the younger and of her more aged mother was tender and mutually affecting. They embraced each other after the lapse of years, and each imparted and each received a kiss of friendship and affection. Tears flowed in copious streams, if not along the cheeks of her aged mother, down those of her daughter.