raight lines and sharp points. Her eyes gleam like points of fire beneath her positively shaggy brows. Her complexion is dark, and her hair, though still abundant, is already turning grey. Her dress is plainness itself, and she wears no jewelry, all kinds of which she regards with scorn. Her old-fashioned silver watch is a family heirloom, and a broad black ribbon is her only watch-guard.
Yet there is nothing of malice or evil intent in Aunt Jemima's soul. She is no less strictly upright in character than in form. She cannot tolerate wickedness, folly, or weakness of any kind. So far well. The lack of her character is the tenderness which is woman's crowning grace. When she is kind it is in such a way that one would almost prefer for her to be unkind.
Such is Aunt Jemima, as we see her sitting in front of her brother's fire, and as we know her to be. Need we wonder that, "Cobbler" Horn's heart misgave him as to the probable fate of his little Marian in such rough, though righteous, hands?