my life were spent chiefly with my Ayah. I loved
her very dearly. I kissed and fondled her dark cheeks as gladly as if
they had been fair and ruddy, and oftener than I touched my mother's,
which were like the petals of a china rose. My most intimate friends
were of the Ayah's complexion. We had more than one "bearer" during
those years, to whom I was greatly attached. I spoke more Hindostanee
than English. The other day I saw a group of Lascar sailors at the
Southampton Station; they had just come off a ship, and were talking
rapidly and softly together. I have forgotten the language of my early
childhood, but its tones had a familiar sound; those dark bright faces
were like the faces of old friends, and my heart beat for a minute, as
one is moved by some remembrance of an old home.

When my mother went out for her early ride at daybreak, before the heat
of the day came on, Ayah would hold me up at the window to see her
start. Sometimes my father would have me brought out, and take me before
him on his horse for a few minutes. But my nurse never allowed this if a
ready excuse could prevent it. Her care of me was maternal in its
tenderness, but she did not keep me tidy enough for me to be presentable
off-hand to company.

There was always "company" wherever my mother went--gentleman company
especially. The gentlemen, in different places, and at different times,
were not the same, but they had a common likeness. I used to count them
when they rode home with my father and mother, or assembled for any of
the many reasons for which "company" hung about our homes. I remember
that it was an amusement to me to discover, "there are six to-day," or
"five to-day," and to tell my Ayah. I was even more minute. I divided
them into three classes: "the little ones, the middle ones, and the old
ones." The "little ones" were the very young men--smooth-cheeked
ensigns, etc.; the "old ones" were usually colonels, generals, or
elderly civilians. From the youngest to the oldest, officers and
civilians, they were all very good-natured to me, and I approved of them
accordingly.

When callers came, I was often sent into the drawing-room. Great was my
dear Ayah's pride when I was dressed in pink silk, my hair being
arranged in ringlets round my head, to be shown off to the company. I
was proud of myself, and was wont rather to strut than walk into the
room upon my best kid shoes. They were pink, to match my frock, and I
was not a little vain