whole household, all regretted my departure, and begged me to come soon
again.

"Now, Miss Amy," said Sylvia, as I was taking a long private farewell in
the kitchen, "jest take a piece of advice from an old colored woman what
has lived longer in the world than you have, and roasted chickens and
fried sassages ever sense she can remember. Buckwheat cakes is very
good, but to keep your own counsel is a heap better--so when you go home
don't you go to telling about that ere pig-pen business, or the time
when the old hen flewed at you, or tumbling off the old horse. People
that don't say nothin' often gits credit for bein' quite sensible, and
p'raps you can deceive 'em too; for you'll be kind o' made a fuss with
when you fust get home, and if you don't let on about all these here
scrapes they'll think more of you."

Sylvia's advice struck me as being very sensible, and I therefore
resolved to act upon it, and endeavor to make them consider me quite a
different character from the hoyden Amy. I kissed Cousin Statia, who
took up her sewing as calmly as though nothing of any importance was
about to occur; and having delighted Holly's eyes with a bright ribbon
in which all the colors of the rainbow seemed combined, I presented
Sylvia with a collar worked by myself, and passed out to the stage,
which was waiting for us. Our journey home was quite an uneventful one;
and the wind being more favorable, we were not so long on the passage.

My parents were watching for us with anxious solicitude; but when the
door opened in bounded a wild, blooming hoyden, in whose sparkling eyes
and glowing cheeks they could detect no trace of the delicate invalid.
Henry and Fred, with a troop of younger brothers, stood ready to devour
me with kisses; but Mammy, rushing impulsively forward, pushed them all