and I raised my eyes to gain a view of the homestead, the faded dingy appearance of the house and its surroundings struck me as unpleasant.  It was a large old-fashioned square farm-house, which had once boasted a coat of red paint, but the winds and rains of many years had sadly marred its beauty, so much so that, but for the patches of dull red still visible beneath the eaves and round the windows, one would have been loth to believe the old house had all been of a deep red.  The high road lay between the house and the long stretch of meadow-land which separated it from the river.  The picket fence in front of the dwelling was in rather a dilapidated condition, and the gate, being minus a hinge, hung awry.  Many tall sunflowers stood in the narrow strip of ground between the front fence and the house, and they were about all I could see in the way of ornament.  But with this rather shabby look there was after all something inviting and attractive about the place, something that suggested the idea of quiet and repose and cozy comfort.  Reader, have you never seen a home like Uncle Nathan’s?  I have seen many of them.  Little did I then think how, in course of time, I should learn to love that old house and its inmates.  A little before we reached home Uncle Nathan addressed me in a confidential voice, saying: 

“Aunt Lucinder (as every body calls her) is my sister, who keeps house for me.  She’s kinder partickler and fussy, and you must not mind if she does snap you up kinder short sometimes, ’tis her way you know; but never you fear, for with all her sharp speeches she has a kind heart, and her bark is a deal worse than her bite; and if you once gain her over for a friend, you’ll have a firm one, depend upon that.  Then there’s mother, she lives with us, too, she’s an old, old woman Walter, and we have all try to please her in everything, and of course you’ll always be quiet and respectful-like to her.  I have often before spoke of hiring a boy to do chores about the house, but Lucinder always said, ‘all boys were good for was to make a noise and litter up the house,’ but I guess you’ll get along famously with her; she’s an old maid you know, that is she never was married, and folks say that old maids are always kinder cross and crusty.”  Seeing my sober face as we drew nigh the house my uncle laughed, as he said in an encouraging tone, “Don’t you be a grain scared, Walter, neither of them old wimmen will hurt you.  I shouldn’t a said a word, only I thought if I gave you a hint of Aunt Lucinder’s queer ways you’d know better how to get along with her.”  I had always thought all women like my own mild-speaking mother and kind old Mrs. Judson, but by this time I began to think Aunt Lucinda must differ very widely from them; and when I followed Uncle Nathan into the clean wide kitchen where a bountiful supper awaited our arrival, I felt somehow as though I was stepping upon dangerous ground, and I almost feared to set my foot down lest it might chance to