It was summer time, & twilight. We were sitting on the porch of the farm-house, on the summit of the hill, & & "Aunt Rachel" was sit- ting respectfully below our level, on the steps,--for she was our servant, & colored. She was of mighty frame & stature; she was sixty years old, but her eye was undimmed her strength unabated. She was a cheerful, hearty soul, & it was no more trouble for her to laugh than it is for a bird to sing. She was under fire, now, as usual when the day was done. That is to say, she was being chaffed without mercy, and was enjoying it. She would let off peal after peal of laughter, & then sit with her face in her hands & shake with throes of enjoyment which she could no longer get breath enough to express.