The story of my life ; or, The sunshine and shadow of seventy years / by Mary A. Livermore ... with hitherto unrecorded incidents and recollections of three years' experience as an army nurse in the great Civil War, and reminiscences of twenty-five years' experiences on the lecture platform ... to which is added six of her most popular lectures ... with portraits and one hundred and twenty engravings from designs by eminent artists ...

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THE STORY OF MY LIFE..

Aggy's stern reproof. Car'line was her eldest daughter.
And then with imperturbable gravity, she said:
" Martha, one o' de chambe'maids sleeps in de hall jess
'twixt youah room an' de chillun's, if you want anything in
de night, Miss!" and she left me to myself.
Although I woke late the next morning, I found only
the servants astir. They were putting the house in order
for the day, kindling a cheerful fire in every room, and
arranging the table for breakfast. They seemed to me unusually well-trained; for their feet were shod with silence,
not a tinkle of silver, glass, or china came from their handling, and the doors swung to and fro on noiseless hinges.
But out in the kitchen, a little remote from the mansion,
there was a great bustle of preparation. The voice of
Aint Phenie, the famous cook of the family for a quarter
of a century, was heard above the din of " beating biscuit,"
whipping eggs, and grinding cbffee, giving all sorts of
directions to the small host of satellites who attended
her while she cooked.
"Yo' Haley! 'tend to dem chickens! You git 'em
burnt a' fryin', an' I'll break eb'ry bone you got in youah
black skin!" and she took her short pipe from her mouth
that she might utter her threat with more emphasis.
"Sam, you brack rascal, take youah fingers outen dat
sugah-bowl. Git out o' heah, oncommon lively, or I'll crack
*youah head!" And she made a rush at him, menacing him
with the uplifted rolling-pin,, with which she had been
"beating biscuit." He evaded the blow by a rapid exit from
the kitchen, then turned on his heel, and with a rollicking
laugh, mocked Aunt Phenie's order with a gesture of
derision.
" Hi, Dinah! who tol' you turn dat batter-cake in de pan?
You jess beat dat cake a powerful heap mo', till I tell you t'