with waxen images of immense size, whose china
blue eyes, long flaxen curls, and rosy cheeks, presented a combination
of charms that took my heart by storm. I sat one night, as usual, by the
nursery fire; my thoughts fixed on this all-engrossing subject, when I
ventured to communicate them to Mammy, and ask her if she thought I ever
would become the enviable possessor of such a doll.

"I don't know," replied Mammy at first, "I think it's very doubtful. But
come here," she added, "and let me see your hand."

After an examination, Mammy pronounced with an air of great mystery that
circumstances were propitious, and she was almost convinced beyond a
doubt that ere long the doll would be mine. She then pointed out to me a
small white spot on my left thumb nail, which she said always denoted a
present. I was rather incredulous at first, not conceiving that so
brilliant a dream could be realized; but after a while the doll actually
made its appearance, and I began to regard Mammy as something little
short of a witch, and became far more tractable in consequence of my
increased awe.

Jane's stories, as well as Mammy's always began with "Once upon a time
there were two sisters;" one was represented as plain-looking, but
amiable--the other beautiful, but a very Zantippe in temper. By some
wonderful combination of circumstances, the elder lost her beauty and
ugliness at the same time--when some good fairy always came along, who,
by a magic touch of her wand, made both the sisters far more lovely than
the elder had been. Beauty was always the burden of the tale; people who
were not beautiful met with no adventures, and seemed to lead a hum-drum
sort of life; therefore, I insensibly learned to regard this wonderful
possession as something very much to be desired. I believe I was quite a
pretty child, with dark bright eyes, red lips, and a pair of very rosy
cheeks. I spent considerable time before the glass, and both Mammy and
Jane began to fear the effects of vanity. Often and often would the old
nurse say: "You needn't stand before the glass, Miss Amy--there is
nothing to look at," or when in a bad humor, "Don't make such faces,
child--you have no beauty to spare," and I can very well remember how
both would endeavor to persuade me that I was the most veritable little
fright that ever existed, and quite a bugbear to my relations.

"What a pity," Jane would commence, as she saw me surveying myself with
an air of infinite satisf