THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
2)3 
dome-like kill, crowned with a light-house and obser¬ 
vatory. Many years ago, the prominent roads were deep¬ 
ly bedded with oyster-shell, and to-day there are no better 
nor smoother in the country: After a charming drive of 
a mile, the carriage leaves the firm, white road for a 
soft and fragrant one through the woods, the wheels 
roll noiselessly over the leafy track, stirring up faint 
and pleasant odors; overhead the branches interlace 
so closely that only occasional gleams of sunlight can 
penetrate the shadows below. Now and then an open¬ 
ing in the dense foliage at our right shows glimpses 
of the sereue blue ocean, with perhaps a snowy sail. Ah! 
who can wonder that June’s heart thrills with hungry 
delight, as her longing eyes take in every detail of that 
well remembered spot. 
Now they are nearing the house. It is a curious old 
structure, built of coquina, or a sort of lime-stone rock, 
in which small shells are thickly imbedded ; is a story 
and a-half high, of a style of architecture “not down 
on the books,” and wearing a delightful air of antiquity. 
It was built many years ago, by a slave trader, and 
many mysterious deeds of blood and cruelty are reported 
to have been committed there, in days long gone by. 
To our heroine, however, it seems only the dearest 
and quaintest home that ever girl had. The house 
stands on a high bluff, facing the east, and looking 
directly out to sea ; below in the soft white sand is the 
bath-house, and a rather battered looking boat. Mag¬ 
nificent water oaks shade the entire yard. Immense 
bushes of Oleander and Crape-myrtle are everywhere in 
bloom. A long covered walk leads from the back 
verandah to some ancient buildings in the rear; these 
are the kitchen and dining-room, separated from the 
main building, as in so many southern homes. Over all 
the cool, bracing breeze is blowing, with that delightful 
salt smell that always makes one so hungry. And in 
the doorway stands a personage fully able to satisfy 
all attacks of hunger. 
It is Aunt Sally, black, shining and portly, with 
stiffly starched apron, and gaily striped turban, waiting 
to do the honors in “ Mar’srs” absence. 
Where is June’s mother? Alas ! poor child, she has 
no mother—five years ago they laid her to rest under 
the Magnolias. 
“Laws, honey, how you is growed ” burst from Aunt 
Sally’s delighted lips; three years sence I done sot eyes 
on ye, an’ now you ’se de fines’ lady in de lan’; come 
right in, honey, de supper am des ready, an’ de corn 
pone am done spilin’ to be et up,” and, with eager haste. 
Aunt Sally helped the young traveler to alight, and 
allowing only a few minutes “for repairs” hurried 
them all out to the supper-table. There she stationed 
herself behind their chairs to see that all plates were 
kept well-filled. The children ate with healthy appetites, 
but June was too much excited to do more than nibble 
a little here and there, and great was Aunt Sally’s trib¬ 
ulation at the sight. ‘ ‘ I’se feared de corn pone aint 
fitten to eat, atter all; Missy June des try a mite mo’ 
ob de col’ chicken, honey—’pears lak ol’ Aunt Sally 
done forgot how to cook. ” ‘ ‘ I’ll be all right to-morrow 
Auntie,” laughed June, “but just now I’m too happy 
to eat.” 
After supper, the children helped their sister to un¬ 
pack and arrange herself comfortably in her own little 
corner-room ; then telling them that she was very tired 
and must retire early, she kissed then*» both tenderly, 
and shut them out. Some time she sat thinking, then 
opening her eastern window, she leaned out and drank 
in the beauty of the night. The full round moon had 
risen, and the shadows under the grand old trees were 
black and heavy, but away, near the horizon, lay a 
glittering line of silver, and the roar of the surf came 
steady and strong. Soothed and quieted by that majes¬ 
tic music, she sought her little bed to sleep restfully 
till morning. 
The next day or two was spent in rambling over the 
old place, in listening to Uncle Isaac’s quaint stories, 
and doing full justice to Aunt Sally’s dainties. The 
third day Col. Wallingford came home; even as he 
sprang from his horse, and folded his eldest daughter 
to his heart, you could see how unlike they were. He 
was tall and slender, with delicate hands and feet, and 
a high-bred air. His eyes were blue, his light-brown 
hair plentifully sprinkled with gray ; a drooping mus¬ 
tache shaded his sensitive mouth. A dreamy face, and 
one lacking in energy, would have been your verdict. 
He was faultlessly dressed, and though liis manner was 
grave and somewhat sad, it was charming. 
“My little June to such a woman grown? lean 
scarcely believe it! Glad ami to see you, mydearone, and 
sadly do we need you. These two young savages here 
must have your immediate attention,” laying a gentle 
hand on Tom and Jessie, who were following admiringly 
at his heels. 
To June, her father seemed to have grown much 
older in the three years that had separated them; many 
lines and wrinkles had crept into his face, and his eyes; 
had a careworn look that was new to her. 
Being loving and helpful, she resolved to find out his; 
burdens, and lighten them if she could. 
The next week she spent in quietly watching and 
making note of affairs around her; and much did she 
find that needed alteration. Her young brother 
and sister were as playful and about as ignorant 
as young colts; the house was managed in a very 
careless way; a perfect horde of small colored imps 
feasted on the “ leavins” in Aunt Sally’s kitchen; half 
a dozen field hands were employed, and yet the place 
had a neglected, half-cared for look; all the hands re¬ 
ceived rations from the house, and a white man named 
Williams had actual control over all the supplies; he 
had a rascally face, and June distrusted him from the 
first. Outside it was no better—three horses stamped 
in the stalls, where one would have been sufficient— 
cows and chickens there were in plenty, but the garden 
was their pet play-ground, much to its detriment. 
Fruit decayed and fell to the ground, or was stolen by 
aforesaid “ small imps ”—waste and outgo everywhere, 
income nowhere. 
After a week’s thoughtful survey, she said one day at 
dmner, “Papa, let us have a business talk this evening, 
will you?” “Well, my practical little woman, what 
next, if it were a petition for a new silk dress, that I 
could understand, but what do you know about 
business ? ” 
“Try me and see,” was the arch answer, “ there are 
a thousand, things I want to propose.” “ Willingly 
would I listen, dear child, for I have quite a curiosity 
to learn the extent of your knowledge, but not to-night, 
I must take the afternoon boat, as important business 
calls me away, but on my return, in a day or two, I will 
gladly hear all you wish to say.” 
