see the coming of an
immortal soul into it from day to day. My very happiest hours have
been spent with my babies in my arms."

"There may be women constituted so as to enjoy it," said Mrs.
Follingsbee; "but you must allow that there is a vast difference among
women."

"There certainly is," said Mrs. Ferguson, as she rose with a frigid
courtesy, and shortened the call. "My dear girls," said the old lady
to her daughters, when they returned home, "I disapprove of that
woman. I am very sorry that pretty little Mrs. Seymour has so bad a
friend and adviser. Why, the woman talks like a Fejee Islander! Baby a
mere animal, to be sure! it puts me out of temper to hear such talk.
The woman talks as if she had never heard of such a thing as love in
her life, and don't know what it means."

"Oh, well, mamma!" said Rose, "you know we are old-fashioned folks,
and not up to modern improvements."

"Well," said Miss Letitia, "I should think that that poor little weird
child of Mrs. Follingsbee's, with the great red bow on her back, had
been brought up on this system. Yesterday afternoon I saw her in the
garden, with that maid of hers, apparently enjoying a free fight. They
looked like a pair of goblins,--an old and a young one. I never saw
any thing like it."

"What a pity!" said Rose; "for she's a smart, bright little thing; and
it's cunning to hear her talk French."

"Well," said Mrs. Ferguson, straightening her back, and sitting up
with a grand air: "I am one of eight children that my mother nursed
herself at her own breast, and lived to a good honorable old age after
it. People called her a handsome woman at sixty: she could ride and
walk and dance with the best; and nobody kept up a keener interest in
reading or general literature. Her conversation was sought by the most
eminent men of the day as something remarkable. She was always with
her children: we always knew we had her to run to at any moment; and
we were the first thing with her. She lived a happy, loving, useful
life; and her children rose up and called her blessed."

"As we do you, dear mamma," said Rose, kissing her: "so don't be
oratorical, darling mammy; because we are all of your mind here."

CHAPTER XVI.

_MRS. JOHN SEYMOUR'S PARTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT_.

Mrs. John Seymour's party marked an era in the annals of Springdale.
Of this, you may be sure, my dear reader, when you consider that it
was projected and arranged by Mrs. Lillie, in strict co