I remember just how she used to look, with her pale cheeks, her deep, soft, serious eyes, her white dress,--she always wore white; and I used to think of her whenever I read in Revelations about the saints that were arrayed in fine linen, clean and white.

She had a great deal of genius of one sort and another, particularly in music; and she used to sit at her organ, playing fine old majestic music of the Catholic church, and singing with a voice more like an angel than a mortal woman; and I would lay my head down on her lap, and cry, and dream, and feel,--oh, immeasurably!--things that I had no language to say! "In those days, this matter of slavery had never been canvassed as it has now; nobody dreamed of any harm in it.
"My father was a born aristocrat.

I think, in some preexistent state, he must have been in the higher circles of spirits, and brought all his old court pride along with him; for it was ingrain, bred in the bone, though he was originally of poor and not in any way of noble family.

My brother was begotten in his image.
"Now, an aristocrat, you know, the world over, has no human sympathies, beyond a certain line in society.

In England the line is in one place, in Burmah in another, and in America in another; but the aristocrat of all these countries never goes over it.