diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-23 07:45:49 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-23 07:45:49 -0800 |
| commit | 29c452bae44ff860ae3caa500caa5017092bbaca (patch) | |
| tree | f16caae71d4c11648696ad5f828b90e2f3c7d1d7 | |
| parent | a3dd70fe82775897f5dee551a59f834173853ce7 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-0.txt | 1947 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-0.zip | bin | 43769 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h.zip | bin | 1409257 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/64704-h.htm | 3380 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 252368 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_009.jpg | bin | 90133 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_032.jpg | bin | 241879 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_037a.jpg | bin | 170381 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_037b.jpg | bin | 158759 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_044.jpg | bin | 163007 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_096.jpg | bin | 139367 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64704-h/images/i_124.jpg | bin | 151331 -> 0 bytes |
15 files changed, 17 insertions, 5327 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4cddabb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64704 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64704) diff --git a/old/64704-0.txt b/old/64704-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ef32881..0000000 --- a/old/64704-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1947 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The story of my childhood, by Clara Barton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The story of my childhood - -Author: Clara Barton - -Release Date: March 05, 2021 [eBook #64704] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD *** - - - - - THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD - - - BY - - CLARA BARTON - - - NEW YORK - THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO. - 1907 - - - - - Copyright, 1907, by - THE JOURNAL PUBLISHING CO., - Meriden, Conn. - - - THE JOURNAL PRESS. - - - - - THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD. - - - - - PREFACE - - - _Dear Miss Clara Barton_: - - Our classes in The History of the United States are studying about - you, and we want to know more. - - Our teacher says she has seen you. That you live in, or near - Washington, District of Columbia, and that, although very busy, she - thought you might be willing to receive a short letter from us, and - I write to ask you to be so kind as to tell us what you did when you - were a little girl like us. All of us want to know. I am almost - thirteen. - - If you could send us a few words, we should all be very happy. I - write for all. - - Your little girl friend, - MARY ST. CLARE, - * * * New York. - - October third, nineteen hundred, six. - - - _Miss Clara Barton_: - - I am studying about you in my History, and what you did in the war, - and I thought I would write and ask you what you did afore you did - that. - - Yours truly, - JAMES C. HAMLIN. - - * * * Center, Iowa, - May 24th, 1906. - - - =Dear Children of the Schools:= - - Your oft-repeated appeals have reached me. They are too many and too - earnest to be disregarded; and because of them, and because of my - love for you, I have dedicated this little book to you. I have made - it small, that you may the more easily read it. I have done it in - the hope that it may give you pleasure, and in the wish that, when - you shall be women and men, you may each remember, as I do, that you - were once a child, full of childish thoughts and action, but of whom - it was said, “Suffer them to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for - of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” - - Faithfully your friend, - CLARA BARTON. - - Glen Echo, Maryland, - May twenty-ninth, 1907. - - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD. - - BY CLARA BARTON. - - -It was May—the cherry trees were in bloom. For the first time in three -years I had been able to sit for an evening among a company of persons -(invalids like myself seeking strength), trying to entertain them with -some remembrances of bygone days. I see it still, the broad parlor of -that grand old “Hillside Home,” the mother and inspiration of all the -hundreds of sanitariums and health restoring institutions of the country -to-day. I had made my home near it, at the foot of the blossoming -orchard. - -Down among the trees and twittering robins next morning came one of my -listeners; a broad-shouldered, manly looking man, the face so full of -benign intelligence that once seen was never to be forgotten. He came in -at the open door, merrily shaking off the cherry blossoms like large -flakes of early snow, an entire stranger to me until the previous -evening. He seated himself and entered into conversation with a familiar -ease that bespoke the cultured gentleman. After a few minutes he turned -earnestly to me with: “Miss Barton, I have an errand in coming to you. I -have a request to make.” - -I said I hoped I should be able to comply. He hesitated, as if thinking -how to commence, but at length said: “I want you to recall and write the -first thing you remember—the first event that made sufficient impression -upon you to be remembered.” - -I waited in silence and he went on: - -“And then I want you to write the next, and then the next, and so on, -until you have written all—everything connected with yourself and your -life that you can recall. I want it; we want it; the world wants it, and -again I ask you to do it. Can you promise me?” - -His earnest manner demanded an earnest reply. I could not promise to do -it, but would promise to consider it. - - -This was in the spring of 1876. I have never forgotten the request -through all these thirty-one busy years, and have carefully kept the -promise to consider it; and to-night take my pencil to describe the -first moment of my life that I remember. - -By the dates I must have been nearly two and a half years old, for I was -born on Christmas day, and now the lilacs were in bloom. It was a rather -newly built country house where I had commenced my earthly pilgrimage, -and being the youngest by a dozen or so years, of a family of two -brothers and two sisters, I naturally lacked child playmates and was -left much to my own entertainment. - -On this occasion I must have been enjoying a ramble by myself in the -grass-green dooryard, with the broad hand-hewn doorstep and the -traditional lilacs on either side. Suddenly my resounding cries brought -the whole family to the door in alarm. My wailing took the form of a -complaint expressed with my best linguistic ability: - -“Baby los’ ’im—pitty bird—baby los’ ’im—baby mos’ caught him—pitty -bird—baby mos’ caught ’im.” - -At length they succeeded in inducing me to listen to a question, “But -where did it go, Baby?” - -Among my heart-breaking sobs I pointed to a small round hole under the -doorstep. The terrified scream of my mother remained in my memory -forever more. Her baby had “mos’ caught” a snake. - -I recall nothing more for nearly a year and a half, when my terrors -again took possession. An esteemed and greatly beloved relative of the -family had died. The funeral services were to be held four miles away. -All the household would attend excepting myself and the younger of my -two brothers, David, some sixteen years old, who was deputed to act as -body guard, doubtless under strict orders. - -I can picture the large family sitting room with its four open windows, -which room I was not to leave, and my guardian was to remain near me. -Some outside duty called him from the house and I was left to my own -observations. A sudden thunder shower came up; massive rifts of clouds -rolled up in the east, and the lightning darted among them like blazing -fires. The thunder gave them language and my terrified imagination -endowed them with life. - -Among the animals of the farm was a huge old ram, that doubtless upon -some occasion had taught me to respect him, and of which I had a mortal -fear. My terrors transformed those rising, rolling clouds into a whole -heaven full of angry rams, marching down upon me. Again my screams -alarmed, and the poor brother, conscience stricken that he had left his -charge, rushed breathless in, to find me on the floor in hysterics, a -condition of things he had never seen; and neither memory nor history -relate how either of us got out of it. - -In these later years I have observed that writers of sketches, in a -friendly desire to compliment me, have been wont to dwell upon my -courage, representing me as personally devoid of fear, not even knowing -the feeling. However correct that may have become, it is evident I was -not constructed that way, as in the earlier years of my life I remember -nothing but fear. - -There can be no doubt that my advent into the family was at least a -novelty, as the last before me was a beautiful blue-eyed, curly-haired -little girl of a dozen summers. That the event was probably looked for -with interest is shadowed in the fact of preparations made for it. The -still existing few pieces in my possession testify to the purchase of a -full, complete and withal rather aristocratic dinner set of “Old -Willow,” which did faithful service many years; and the remaining bits -of dainty pink and white, tell of the tea set to match, in the cups of -which were told the future of many a merry party that learned their -reality through still later years, not all pink and white. - -I became the seventh member of a household consisting of the father and -mother, two sisters and two brothers, each of whom for his and her -intrinsic merits and special characteristics deserves an individual -history, which it shall be my conscientious duty to portray as far as -possible as these pages progress. For the present it is enough to say -that each one manifested an increasing personal interest in the -newcomer, and as soon as developments permitted, set about instructing -her in the various directions most in accord with the tastes and -pursuits of each. - -Of the two sisters, the elder was already a teacher. The younger -followed soon, and naturally my book education became their first care, -and under these conditions it is little to say, that I have no knowledge -of ever learning to read, or of a time that I did not do my own story -reading. The other studies followed very early. - -My elder brother, Stephen, was a noted mathematician. He inducted me -into the mystery of figures. Multiplication, division, subtraction, -halves, quarters and wholes, soon ceased to be a mystery, and no toy -equalled my little slate. But the younger brother (he of the thunder -storm and hysterics) had entirely other tastes, and would have none of -these things. My father was a lover of horses, and one of the first in -the vicinity to introduce blooded stock. He had large lands, for New -England. He raised his own colts; and Highlanders, Virginians and -Morgans pranced the fields in idle contempt of the solid old farm -horses. - -Of my brother, David, to say that he was fond of horses describes -nothing; one could almost add that he was fond of nothing else. He was -the Buffalo Bill of the surrounding country, and here commences his part -of my education. It was his delight to take me, a little girl five years -old, to the field, seize a couple of those beautiful young creatures, -broken only to the halter and bit, and gathering the reins of both -bridles firmly in hand, throw me upon the back of one colt, spring upon -the other himself, and catching me by one foot, and bidding me “cling -fast to the mane,” gallop away over field and fen, in and out among the -other colts in wild glee like ourselves. They were merry rides we took. -This was my riding school. I never had any other, but it served me well. -To this day my seat on a saddle or on the back of a horse is as secure -and tireless as in a rocking chair, and far more pleasurable. Sometimes, -in later years, when I found myself suddenly on a strange horse in a -trooper’s saddle, flying for life or liberty in front of pursuit, I -blessed the baby lessons of the wild gallops among the beautiful colts. - - -Various as were the topics of instruction pursued by my youthful -teachers, my father had still others. He was “Captain” Stephen Barton, -had served as a non-commissioned officer, under General Wayne (Mad -Anthony) in the French and Indian Wars on the then Western frontiers. -His soldier habits and tastes never left him. Those were also strong -political days—Andrew Jackson days—and very naturally my father became -my instructor in military and political lore. I listened breathlessly to -his war stories. Illustrations were called for, and we made battles and -fought them. Every shade of military etiquette was regarded. Generals, -colonels, captains and sergeants were given their proper place and rank. -So with the political world; the president, cabinet and leading officers -of the government were learned by heart, and nothing gratified the keen -humor of my father more than the parrot-like readiness with which I -lisped these often difficult names, and the accuracy with which I -repeated them upon request. My elder sister, with a teacher’s intuition, -mistrusting that my ideas on these points might be somewhat vague, -confidentially drew from me one day my impressions in regard to the -personages whose names I handled so glibly, and to the amusement of the -family found that I had no conception of their being men like other men, -but had invested them with miraculous size and importance. I thought the -president might be as large as the meeting house, and the vice-president -perhaps the size of the school house. And yet I am not going to say that -even this instruction had never any value for me. When later, I, like -all the rest of our country people, was suddenly thrust into the -mysteries of war, and had to find and take my place and part in it, I -found myself far less a stranger to the conditions than most women, or -even ordinary men for that matter; I never addressed a colonel as -captain, got my cavalry on foot, or mounted my infantry. - -My mother, like the sensible woman that she was, seeming to conclude -that there were plenty of instructors without her, attempted very -little, but rather regarded the whole thing as a sort of mental -conglomeration, and looked on with a kind of amused curiosity to see -what they would make of it. Indeed, I heard her remark many years after, -that I came out with a more level head than she would have thought -possible. - - -My first individual ownership was “Button.” In personality (if the term -be admissible), Button represented a sprightly, medium-sized, very white -dog, with silky ears, sparkling black eyes and a very short tail. His -bark spoke for itself. Button belonged to me. No other claim was -instituted, or ever had been. It was said that on my entrance into the -family, Button constituted himself my guardian. He watched my first -steps and tried to pick me up when I fell down. One was never seen -without the other. He proved an apt and obedient pupil, obeying me -precept upon precept, if not line upon line. He stood on two feet to ask -for his food, and made a bow on receiving it, walked on three legs when -very lame, and so on, after the manner of his crude instruction; went -everywhere with me through the day, waited patiently while I said my -prayers and continued his guard on the foot of the bed at night. Button -shared my board as well as my bed. This fact gave opportunity for an -amusing bit of sport for the family at my expense, as was their wont. - -One would, with considerable ado (to lend importance to the occasion), -make me a present of some divisible luxury, as cake or candies. This -called, on my part, for positive orders to all to sit down and share my -gift with me, as I never partook of it alone. A line or circle was -formed, comprising the entire family, Button occupying the last seat. I -then proceeded to make a careful hand count of each, including Button; -then retired and accurately divided my gift, a piece for each, but not -myself, as I was not in the count. I then went and gave a piece to every -one. The fun came in watching the silent wonderment and resignation with -which I contemplated my own empty hands, a condition of things I could -not at all comprehend, but made no complaint. Of course, each in -generous sympathy offered to give back to me his or her piece; but here -came in my careful mother’s protest and command, so seldom heard. “No,” -I must not be taught to think I could give a thing and still possess it, -or its value. A gift must be outright. I must do earnestly all that I -did. Each might generously give me back a very small piece, to make in -all no more than would have been my share, and I must be made to -understand that even this was a favor and not a right. I then went -around and received my crumbs. This all went well till I came to Button. -When I held out my hand for his little charity, he had nothing for me. I -could never understand this discourtesy of Button. - -This was one of the many jokes reserved for me as I grew older. But far -above and beyond it all, as the years sped on, and the hands were still, -shone the gleam of the far-sighted mother’s watchfulness that neither -toil could obscure, nor mirth relax. - - -My home instruction was by no means permitted to stand in the way of the -“regular school,” which consisted of two terms each year, of three -months each. The winter term included not only the large boys and girls, -but in reality the young men and young women of the neighborhood. An -exceptionally fine teacher often drew the daily attendance of advanced -scholars for several miles. Our district had this good fortune. I -introduce with pleasure and with reverence the name of Richard Stone; a -firmly-set, handsome young man of twenty-six or seven, of commanding -figure and presence, combining all the elements of a teacher with a -discipline never questioned. His glance of disapproval was a reprimand, -his frown something he never needed to go beyond. The love and respect -of his pupils exceeded even their fear. It was no uncommon thing for -summer teachers to come twenty miles to avail themselves of the winter -term of “Col.” Stone, for he was a high militia officer, and at that -young age was a settled man with a family of four little children. He -had married at eighteen. - -I am thus particular in my description of him, both because of my -childish worship of him, and because I shall have occasion to refer to -him later. The opening of his first term was a signal for the Barton -family, and seated on the strong shoulders of my stalwart brother -Stephen, I was taken a mile through the tall drifts to school. I have -often questioned if in this movement there might not have been a touch -of mischievous curiosity on the part of these not at all dull -youngsters, to see what my performance at school might be. - -I was, of course, the baby of the school. I recall no introduction to -the teacher, but was set down among the many pupils in the by no means -spacious room, with my spelling book and the traditional slate, from -which nothing could separate me. I was seated on one of the low benches -and sat very still. At length the majestic schoolmaster seated himself, -and taking a primer, called the class of little ones to him. He pointed -the letters to each. I named them all, and was asked to spell some -little words, “dog,” “cat,” etc., whereupon I hesitatingly informed him -that I did “not spell there.” “Where do you spell?” “I spell in -‘Artichoke,’” that being the leading word in the three syllable column -in my speller. He good naturedly conformed to my suggestion, and I was -put into the “artichoke” class to bear my part for the winter, and read -and “spell for the head.” When, after a few weeks, my brother Stephen -was declared by the committee to be too advanced for a common school, -and was placed in charge of an important school himself, my unique -transportation devolved upon the other brother, David. - -No colts now, but solid wading through the high New England drifts. - -The Rev. Mr. Menseur of the Episcopal church of Leicester, Mass., if I -recollect aright, wisely comprehending the grievous inadaptability of -the school books of that time, had compiled a small geography and atlas -suited to young children, known as Menseur’s Geography. It was a -novelty, as well as a beneficence; nothing of its kind having occurred -to makers of the school books of that day. They seemed not to have -recognized the existence of a state of childhood in the intellectual -creation. During the winter I had become the happy possessor of a -Menseur’s Geography and Atlas. It is questionable if my satisfaction was -fully shared by others of the household. I required a great deal of -assistance in the study of my maps, and became so interested that I -could not sleep, and was not willing that others should, but persisted -in waking my poor drowsy sister in the cold winter mornings to sit up in -bed and by the light of a tallow candle, help me to find mountains, -rivers, counties, oceans, lakes, islands, isthmuses, channels, cities, -towns and capitals. - -[Illustration: - - MY BIRTHPLACE. -] - -The next May the summer school opened, taught by Miss Susan Torrey. -Again, I write the name reverently, as gracing one of the most perfect -of personalities. I was not alone in my childish admiration, for her -memory remained a living reality in the town long years after the gentle -spirit fled. My sisters were both teaching other schools, and I must -make my own way, which I did, walking a mile with my one precious little -schoolmate, Nancy Fitts. Nancy Fitts! The playmate of my childhood; the -“chum” of laughing girlhood; the faithful trusted companion of young -womanhood, and the beloved life friend that the relentless grasp of time -has neither changed, nor taken from me. - -On entering the wide open door of the inviting schoolhouse, armed with -some most unsuitable reader, a spelling book, geography, atlas and -slate, I was seized with an intense fear at finding myself with no -member of the family near, and my trepidation became so visible that the -gentle teacher, relieving me of my burden of books, took me tenderly on -her lap and did her best to reassure and calm me. At length I was given -my seat, with a desk in front for my atlas and slate, my toes at least a -foot from the floor, and that became my daily, happy home for the next -three months. - - -I partially recall an event which occurred when I was five years old; -the incidents which I could not have personally remembered, must have -been supplied by later relations. It seems that I was suddenly -discovered to be alarmingly ill. In response to the terror of the -moment, the saddle was thrown on Black Stallion, the king of the herd, -his rough rider mounted and away for the doctor, on “Oxford Plain,” five -miles away. “Not at home—out on a professional drive.” Followed to -“Sutton Street,” six miles further on. “Gone.” Back over “Hog Hill” and -across the town to the west. At length overtaken and brought back at a -speed little less than that which had called him, for the doctor was a -fearless driver. The thunder of the flying hoofs and the speed of the -rider as they passed had alarmed the people. All the town knew the horse -and the rider, and knew as well that something bad had happened at -Captain Barton’s. Men dropped their work, harnessed their own teams and -drove with all haste to see if, perchance, it were anything in which -they could help. When the doctor arrived, the yard and road were filled -with people, waiting his coming and diagnosis. - -Shortly the verbal bulletin went out: “A sudden, unaccountable and -probably fatal attack of bloody dysentery and convulsions.” There was no -more for the sympathetic neighbors to do; they turned sadly away, and -with them went the report that Captain and Mrs. Barton had lost their -little baby girl. - -[Illustration: - - CAPTAIN STEPHEN BARTON, MY FATHER. -] - -[Illustration: - - SALLY STONE BARTON, MY MOTHER. -] - -Of all this I have, naturally, no recollection—neither do I know the -lapse of time till memory again got hold; but her first grasp of the -event was this: I had occupied as a bed a great cradle which had been -made for some grown invalid, and preserved in the household. I was -bolstered up in this cradle, with a little low table at the side on -which was my first meal of solid food. How I had previously been -nourished I do not know, but I can see this meal as clearly as if it had -been yesterday. A piece of brown bread crust, about two inches square, -rye and Indian, baked on the oven bottom; a tiny wine glass, my -Christmas gift, full of home-made blackberry cordial, and a wee bit of -my mother’s well cured old cheese. There was no need to caution me to -eat slowly; knowing that I could have no more, and in dread of coming to -the last morsel, I nibbled and sipped and swallowed till I mercifully -fell asleep from exhaustion. - -There are a good many men over the country who would readily believe -that sometimes, at the end of a long fast, food might have tasted very -good to me, as it did to them; but no food through the longest fast, -ever had the relish of that brown bread crust; and no royal table has -ever been so kingly as that where I presided alone over my own feast. - - -Of the succeeding years, six, seven and eight, I recall little of note -beyond my studies, excepting a propensity I indulged for writing verses, -many of which were preserved to amuse, others to tease me for many -years. Colonel Stone had closed his series of common schools, and opened -a special institution on “Oxford Plain,” known as the “Oxford High -School.” Its fame had spread for miles around, and it was regarded as -the _Ultima Thule_ for teachers, and in a manner a stepping stone or -opening door to Harvard and Yale. - -My brother Stephen had succeeded Col. Stone in the winter terms of the -home school, and my sisters mainly had charge of them in summer. Thus -six months of each year offered little change, the others were long -vacations in which the out-of-doors played by far the most prominent -part. There were garden and flower beds to be made, choice pet animals -to look after, a few needy families with little children to be thought -of, and some sewing to be attempted. These latter were in accordance -with my mother’s recommendations. I recall no season of dolls, and -believe they were never included in my curriculum. - -Meantime, I fell heir to my mother’s side saddle, a beautiful piece of -workmanship, and with some difficulty learned to adjust myself to it, a -rather useless adjustment it seemed to me at the time, which opinion I -still entertain. - -These were years of change in the family. My brothers had become of age -and were young men of strength, character and enterprise. They had -“bought out” as the term went, the two large farms of my father, and -commenced business in earnest for themselves. My father had purchased -another farm of some three hundred acres, a few miles nearer the center -of the town. - -This was a place of note, having been one of the points used for -security against the Indians by the old Huguenot Settlers of Oxford, and -which has made the town historic. Their main defense was on “Fort Hill,” -several miles to the east. I was naturally greatly interested in the -changes, and doubtless gave them all the time I could spare from my -increasing studies. I can recollect even now that my life seemed very -full for a little girl of eight years. - - -During the preceding winter I began to hear talk of my going away to -school, and it was decided that I be sent to Col. Stone’s High school, -to board in his family and go home occasionally. This arrangement, I -learned in later years, had a double object. I was what is known as a -bashful child, timid in the presence of other persons, a condition of -things found impossible to correct at home. In the hope of overcoming -this undesirable _mauvais honte_, it was decided to throw me among -strangers. - -How well I remember my advent. My father took me in his carriage with a -little dressing case which I dignified with the appellation of -“trunk”—something I had never owned. It was April—cold and bare. The -house and school rooms adjoined, and seemed enormously large. The -household was also large. The long family table with the dignified -preceptor, my loved and feared teacher at three years, at its head, -seemed to me something formidable. There were probably one hundred and -fifty pupils daily in the ample school rooms, of which I was perhaps the -youngest, except the colonel’s own children. - -My studies were chosen with great care. I remember among them, ancient -history with charts. The lessons were learned to repeat by rote. I found -difficulty both in learning the proper names and in pronouncing them, as -I had not quite outgrown my lisp. One day I had studied very hard on the -Ancient Kings of Egypt, and thought I had everything perfect, and when -the pupil above me failed to give the name of a reigning king, I -answered very promptly that it was “Potlomy.” The colonel checked with a -glance the rising laugh of the older members of the class, and told me, -very gently, that the P was silent in that word. I had, however, seen it -all, and was so overcome by mortification for my mistake, and gratitude -for the kindness of my teacher, that I burst into tears and was -permitted to leave the room. - -[Illustration: - - COLONEL RICHARD C. STONE, MY TEACHER AT THREE YEARS OF AGE. -] - -I am not sure that I was really homesick, but the days seemed very long, -especially Sundays. I was in constant dread of doing something wrong, -and one Sunday afternoon I was sure I had found my occasion. It was -early spring. The tender leaves had put out and with them the buds and -half open blossoms of the little cinnamon roses, an unfailing -ornamentation of a well kept New England home of that day. The children -of the family had gathered in the front yard, admiring the roses and -daring to pick each a little bouquet. As I stood holding mine, the heavy -door at my back swung open, and there was the colonel, in his long, -light dressing gown and slippers, direct from his study. A kindly spoken -“come with me, Clara,” nearly took my last breath. I followed his -strides through all the house, up the long flights of stairs, through -the halls of the school rooms, silently wondering what I had done more -than the others. I knew he was by no means wont to spare his own -children. I had my handful of roses—so had they. I knew it was very -wrong to have picked them, but why more wrong for me than for the -others? At length, and it seemed to me an hour, we reached the colonel’s -study, and there, advancing to meet us, was the Reverend Mr. Chandler, -the pastor of our Universalist church, whom I knew well. He greeted me -very politely and kindly, and handed the large, open school reader which -he held, to the colonel, who put it into my hands, placed me a little in -front of them, and pointing to a column of blank verse, very gently -directed me to read it. It was an extract from Campbell’s “Pleasures of -Hope,” commencing, “Unfading hope, when life’s last embers burn.” I read -it to the end, a page or two. When finished, the good pastor came -quickly and relieved me of the heavy book, and I wondered why there were -tears in his eyes. The colonel drew me to him, gently stroked my short -cropped hair, went with me down the long steps, and told me I could “go -back to the children and play.” I went much more easy in mind than I -came, but it was years before I comprehended anything about it. - -My studies gave me no trouble, but I grew very tired, felt hungry all -the time but dared not eat, grew thin and pale. The colonel noticed it, -and watching me at table found that I was eating little or nothing, -refusing everything that was offered me. Mistrusting that it was from -timidity, he had food laid on my plate, but I dared not eat it, and -finally at the end of the term a consultation was held between the -colonel, my father and our beloved family physician, Dr. Delano Pierce, -who lived within a few doors of the school, and it was decided to take -me home until a little older, and wiser, I could hope. My timid -sensitiveness must have given great annoyance to my friends. If I ever -could have gotten entirely over it, it would have given far less -annoyance and trouble to myself all through life. - -To this day, I would rather stand behind the lines of artillery at -Antietam, or cross the pontoon bridge under fire at Fredericksburg, than -to be expected to preside at a public meeting. - -Referring to the breaking up of the first home, and the removal of my -father and mother to the new one, it might be well to state the reasons -for the change. A favorite nephew of my father, Mr. Jeremiah Larned, had -died after a lingering illness, leaving a widow and four children, from -thirteen to six years of age, on the fine farm which had descended to -him from his father, Captain Jeremiah Larned, one of the leading men of -the town. Unfortunately, during his long illness the farm had become -involved to the extent of necessitating a sale. This would result in -depriving the widow and her small children of a home, and in order to -prevent this, and the disadvantages of a creditor’s sale, it was decided -that my father and a brother-in-law of Mrs. Larned, Captain Sylvester -McIntire, who had no children, purchase the farm, and remove there, -keeping the widow and children with them. - -The hill farms—for there were two—were sold to my brothers, who, -entering into partnership, constituted the well known firm of S. & D. -Barton, continuing mainly through their lives. Thus I became the -occupant of two homes, my sisters remaining with my brothers, none of -whom were married. - -The removal to the second home was a great novelty to me. I became -observant of all changes made. One of the first things found necessary -on entering a house of such ancient date, was a rather extensive -renovation, for those days, of painting and papering. The leading -artisan in that line in the town was Mr. Sylvanus Harris, a courteous -man of fine manners, good scholarly acquirements, and who, for nearly -half a lifetime, filled the office of town clerk. The records of Oxford -will bear his name and his beautiful handwriting as long as its records -exist. - -Mr. Harris was engaged to make the necessary improvements. Painting -included more then than in these later days of prepared material. The -painter brought his massive white marble slab, ground his own paints, -mixed his colors, boiled his oil, calcined his plaster, made his putty -and did scores of things that a painter of to-day would not only never -think of doing, but would often scarcely know how to do. - -Coming from the newly built house where I was born, I had seen nothing -of this kind done, and was intensely interested. I must have persisted -in making myself very numerous, for I was constantly reminded not to -“get in the gentleman’s way.” But I was not to be set aside. My combined -interest and curiosity for once overcame my timidity, and encouraged by -the mild, genial face of Mr. Harris, I gathered the courage to walk up -in front and address him: “Will you teach me to paint, sir?” “With -pleasure, little lady, if mama is willing, I should very much like your -assistance.” The consent was forthcoming, and so was a gown suited to my -new work, and I reported for duty. I question if any ordinary apprentice -was ever more faithfully and intelligently instructed in his first -month’s apprenticeship. I was taught how to hold my brushes, to take -care of them, allowed to help grind my paints, shown how to mix and -blend them, how to make putty and use it, to prepare oils and dryings, -and learned from experience that boiling oil was a great deal hotter -than boiling water, was taught to trim paper neatly, to match and help -to hang it, to make the most approved paste, and even varnished the -kitchen chairs to the entire satisfaction of my mother, which was -triumph enough for one little girl. So interested was I, that I never -wearied of my work for a day, and at the end of a month looked on sadly -as the utensils, brushes, buckets and great marble slab were taken away. -There was not a room that I had not helped to make better; there were no -longer mysteries in paint and paper. I knew them all, and that work -would bring callouses even on little hands. - -When the work was finished and everything gone, I went to my room, -lonesome in spite of myself. I found on my candle stand a box containing -a pretty little locket, neatly inscribed, “To a faithful worker.” No one -seemed to have any knowledge of it, and I never gained any. - - -The new home presented a phase of life quite unfamiliar to me. From -never having had any playmates, I now found myself one of a very lively -body of six—three boys and three girls nearer of an age than would have -been probable in the same family. My father had taken charge of the -young son of a friend—Lovett Stimpson—a fine, robust, intelligent lad of -about my age, who lived with us. - -It would be difficult to describe what this new life, for the time it -continued, became to me, or indeed I to it. As I look back upon it I -realize that we were a group of good children with honorable instincts, -obedient and kindly disposed. In later years none of us could recall a -serious difference of any kind, no cruelty and no broken faith. It took -just six, and no more, to keep a secret. But this portrayal of -characteristics gives no clue to, indeed casts no shadow, of what we -were capable of accomplishing in a day. The territorial domain comprised -something over three hundred acres. We knew it all. From “Peakèd Hill,” -to “Jim Brown’s”—across the “Flowed Swamp,” three miles, we knew every -rod of it. Old “Rocky Hills,” so high, so steep, so thickly wooded that -a horse would never attempt them, were no strangers. We knew where the -best chestnuts were. We explored the “Devil’s Den,” in spite of the -tradition that it was an abode for the tempters of Eve. The “French -River,” that later carried all the factories of North Oxford, spread -itself out in lazy rest, after its rugged leaps, as it meandered through -the broad, beautiful meadows and interval land, the pride of the farm. - -A long hewn log or pole stretched across it in its narrowest, deepest -place. I would not dare to say how long, but it could not have been more -than fourteen inches wide, and swayed and teetered from the moment the -foot touched till it left it. The waters glided still and black beneath. -It was there as a convenience for the working men in crossing from one -field to another; but if ever a week day passed that we did not cross it -several times, we knew one duty had been neglected. The only sawmill in -that section of the town was a part of my father’s possessions. The -great up-and-down saw cut its angry way through the primeval forest -giants from morning till night, and not unfrequently from night till -morning. The long saw-carriage ran far out over the raceway at the rear -end. How were we to withstand the temptation of riding out over the -rushing mill stream twenty feet below, and then coming quickly in as the -sawn log was drawn back for another cut? Hurt? Never one of us. Killed? -We knew not such a thing could be. - -There were three temptingly great barns, scattered between the house -premises and the interval. Was there ever a better opportunity for -hide-and-seek, for climbing and jumping? It would have been no athlete -at all that couldn’t jump from the great beams to the hay, in scant -summer time before the new hay came in, and land on the feet safely. -There was, and still is, directly in front of the house, a small, -circular, natural pond, fed by springs in the bottom and surrounded by a -cordon of hills forming a basin in which the little pond basks and -sleeps through the summer, but in winter becomes a thing of beauty and a -joy forever to the skater. From its sheltered position it freezes -smooth, even, and glare, and has no danger spots. I dwell upon this -description, for that little pond was my early love; the home of my -beautiful flock of graceful ducks. The boys were all fine skaters; I -wanted to skate, too, but skating had not then become customary, in -fact, not even allowable for girls; and when, one day, my father saw me -sitting on the ice attempting to put on a pair of skates, he seemed -shocked, recommended me to the house, and said something about -“tomboys.” But this did not cure my desire; nor could I understand why -it was not as well for me to skate as for the boys; I was as strong, -could run as fast and ride better, indeed they would not have presumed -to approach me with a horse. Neither could the boys understand it, and -this misconception led them into an error and me into trouble. - -One clear, cold, starlight Sunday morning, I heard a low whistle under -my open chamber window. I realized that the boys were out for a skate -and wanted to communicate with me. On going to the window, they informed -me that they had an extra pair of skates and if I could come out they -would put them on me and “learn” me how to skate. It was Sunday morning; -no one would be up till late, and the ice was so smooth and “glare.” The -stars were bright, the temptation was too great. I was in my dress in a -moment and out. The skates were fastened on firmly, one of the boy’s -wool neck “comforters” tied about my waist, to be held by the boy in -front. The other two were to stand on either side, and at a signal the -cavalcade started. Swifter and swifter we went, until at length we -reached a spot where the ice had been cracked and was full of sharp -edges. These threw me, and the speed with which we were progressing, and -the distance before we could quite come to a stop, gave terrific -opportunity for cuts and wounded knees. The opportunity was not lost. -There was more blood flowing than any of us had ever seen. Something -must be done. Now all of the wool neck comforters came into requisition; -my wounds were bound up, and I was helped into the house, with one knee -of ordinary respectable cuts and bruises; the other frightful. Then the -enormity of the transaction and its attendant difficulties began to -present themselves, and how to surround (for there was no possibility of -overcoming them), was the question. - -The most feasible way seemed to be to say nothing about it, and we -decided to all keep silent; but how to conceal the limp? I must have no -limp, but walk well. I managed breakfast without notice. Dinner not -quite so well, and I had to acknowledge that I had slipped down and hurt -my knee a little. This gave my limp more latitude, but the next day it -was so decided, that I was held up and searched. It happened that the -best knee was inspected; the stiff wool comforter soaked off, and a -suitable dressing given it. This was a great relief, as it afforded -pretext for my limp, no one observing that I limped with the wrong knee. - -But the other knee was not a wound to heal by first intention, -especially under its peculiar dressing, and finally had to be revealed. -The result was a surgical dressing and my foot held up in a chair for -three weeks, during which time I read the “Arabian Nights” from end to -end. As the first dressing was finished, I heard the surgeon say to my -father: “that was a hard case, Captain, but she stood it like a -soldier.” But when I saw how genuinely they all pitied, and how tenderly -they nursed me, even walking lightly about the house not to jar my -swollen and fevered limbs, in spite of my disobedience and detestable -deception (and persevered in at that), my Sabbath breaking and -unbecoming conduct, and all the trouble I had caused, conscience -revived, and my mental suffering far exceeded my physical. The Arabian -Nights were none too powerful a soporific to hold me in reasonable -bounds. I despised myself and failed to sleep or eat. - -My mother, perceiving my remorseful condition, came to the rescue, -telling me soothingly, that she did not think it the worst thing that -could have been done, that other little girls had probably done as -badly, and strengthened her conclusions by telling me how she once -persisted in riding a high mettled unbroken horse in opposition to her -father’s commands, and was thrown. My supposition is that she had been a -worthy mother of her equestrian son. - -The lesson was not lost on any of the group. It is very certain that -none of us, boys or girls, indulged in further smart tricks. Twenty-five -years later, when on a visit to the old home, long left, I saw my -father, then a grey-haired grandsire, out on the same little pond, -fitting the skates carefully to the feet of his little twin -granddaughters, holding them up to make their first start in safety, I -remembered my wounded knees, and blessed the great Father that progress -and change were among the possibilities of His people. - -I never learned to skate. When it became fashionable I had neither time -nor opportunity. - - -Along these lines I recall another disappointment, which, though not -vital, was still indicative of the times. During the following winter a -dancing school was opened in the hall of the one hotel on Oxford Plain, -some three miles from us. It was taught by a personal friend of my -father, a polished gentleman, resident of a neighboring town, and -teacher of English schools. By some chance I got a glimpse of the -dancing school at the opening, and was seized with a most intense desire -to go and learn to dance. With my peculiar characteristics it was -necessary for me to want a thing very much before mentioning it; but -this overcame me, especially as the cordial teacher took tea with us one -evening before going to his school, and spoke very interestingly of his -classes. I even went so far as to beg permission to go. The dance was in -my very feet. The violin haunted me. “Ladies change” and “all hands -round” sounded in my ears and woke me from my sleep at night. - -The matter was taken up in family council. I was thought to be very -young to be allowed to go to a dancing school in a hotel. Dancing at -that time was at a very low ebb in good New England society, and -besides, there was an active revival taking place in both of the -orthodox churches (or rather one a church and the other a society -without a church), and it might not be a wise, nor even a courteous, -thing to allow. Not that our family, with its well known liberal -proclivities, could have the slightest objection on that score; still, -like St. Paul, if meat were harmful to their brethren they would not eat -it, and thus it was decided that I could not go. The decision was -perfectly conscientious, kindness itself, and probably wise; but I have -wondered if they could have known (as they never did) how severe the -disappointment was, the tears it cost me in my little bed in the dark, -the music and the master’s voice still sounding in my ears, if this -knowledge would have weighed in the decision. - -I have listened to a great deal of music since then, interspersed with -very positive orders, and which generally called for “all hands round” -but the dulcet notes of the violin and the “ladies change” were missing. -Neither did I ever learn to dance. - - -From the peculiar gifts that were wont to be made me in those days, I am -led to infer that my peculiarities in the direction of the dumb animal -part of creation, were decidedly noticeable. On one occasion an English -gentleman, a friend of the family, and, like my father, a promoter of -fine stock, had been paying us a visit, and upon returning to his home, -near Boston, sent to me a beautifully soft, wool-wadded basket -containing two and a half dozens of fine, large duck’s eggs. It was not -difficult to find among the numerous feathered inhabitants of the barns, -three domestically inclined, motherly hens, willing to take charge of -the big tinted eggs, albeit not their own, giving to them the strictest -attention. The result was, that within four weeks, the shallow end of -the little pond was covered with tiny balls of yellow down floating -calmly and majestically on the water—darting rapidly this way and that, -for every fly or bug so unfortunate as to appear, while the shore -presented the scene of three of the most distracted mothers that -imagination can picture. There was nothing majestic nor calm in their -motions, and the tones which called the recreant broods were far from -soothing; but like the mothers of other wayward, unnatural offspring, -the lesson of submission was theirs to learn; and through resignation at -length came peace. - -In the course of two or three years my flock of ducks became so numerous -as to attract the attention of the wild ducks, passing over from the -northern lakes to the southern bays, and it was no uncommon thing for an -entire flock, wearied with a long journey, to alight for a few days’ -rest. My tame ducks learned athletics from these native divers and -dippers, and the scene became at times not only interesting, but -inspiring and instructive. - -It is very evident to me, as I remember it, that my aspirations were by -no means satisfied with an interest in these small specimens, such as -ducks, hens, turkeys, geese, dogs, cats, etc., of which I had no lack. -This not including canaries, of which I received from time to time a -number as gifts; but I had no pleasure in them, and although doubtless -the most inhuman thing that could have been done, I invariably opened -the cage door and let them out. - -But all that farm land, the three great barns and accompanying yards, -called for cattle. A small herd of twenty-five fine milch cows came -faithfully home each day with the lowering of the sun, for the milking -and extra supper which they knew awaited them. With the customary greed -of childhood I had laid claim to three or four of the handsomest and -tamest of them, and believing myself to be their real owner, I went -faithfully every evening to the yards to receive and look after them. My -little milk pail went as well, and I became proficient in an art never -forgotten. - -One afternoon, on going to the barn as usual, I found no cows there; all -had been driven somewhere else. As I stood in the corner of the great -yard alone, I saw three or four men—the farm hands—with one stranger -among them wearing a long, loose shirt or gown. They were all trying to -get a large red ox onto the barn floor, to which he went very -reluctantly. At length they succeeded. One of the men carried an axe, -and stepping a little to the side and back, raised it high in the air -and brought it down with a terrible blow. The ox fell, I fell too; and -the next I knew I was in the house on a bed, and all the family about -me, with the traditional camphor bottle, bathing my head to my great -discomfort. As I regained consciousness they asked me what made me fall? -I said “some one struck me.” “Oh, no,” they said, “no one struck you,” -but I was not to be convinced and proceeded to argue the case with an -impatient putting away of the hurting hands, “then what makes my head so -sore?” Happy ignorance! I had not then learned the mystery of nerves. - -I have, however, a very clear recollection of the indignation of my -father (my mother had already expressed herself on the subject), on his -return from town and hearing what had taken place. The hired men were -lined up and arraigned for “cruel carelessness.” They had “the -consideration to keep the cattle away,” he said, “but allowed that -little girl to stand in full view.” Of course, each protested he had not -seen me. I was altogether too friendly with the farm hands to hear them -blamed, especially on my account, and came promptly to their side, -assuring my father that they had not seen me, and that it was “no -matter,” I was “all well now.” But, singularly, I lost all desire for -meat, if I had ever had it—and all through life to the present, have -only eaten it when I must for the sake of appearance, or as -circumstances seemed to make it the more proper thing to do. The -bountiful ground has always yielded enough for all my needs and wants. - - -I had been eleven years old the Christmas before. Great changes had -taken place during the two or three preceding years. My energetic -brothers had outgrown farming, sold their two farms on the hill, and -come down and bought of my father all his water power on the French -River, as well as all obtainable timber land in the vicinity. The -staunch old up-and-down saw still stood in its majesty for the handling -of the forest giants too massive for a lesser power, but it was -surrounded by a cordon of belted “circulars,” whirling with a speed that -quite obscured their motion, screaming, screeching and throwing out the -product of their work in all directions; shingles, laths, thin boards, -bolters and slitters. New dams had been thrown across the shifty, -flighty stream, to be swept away in the torrents of the spring freshets -and floating ice, but replaced at once with an obstinate manliness and -enterprise that scarcely admitted of an interruption in the work. - -In a new building along the side of the dam, the great burr-stones of -that date ground out the wholesome grain of all the surrounding country, -and where I had first seen it under the control of the one lone sawyer, -now fifty of the strongest working men that could be procured, and great -four-horse teams covered the once quiet mill-yard. The entire line of -factories above had caught the inspiration, and the French River -villages of North Oxford were models of growth and activity. - -One sister had married and settled in her home near by, and a wife had -come into my eldest brother’s home. Mrs. Larned, the widow to whose -assistance my father had gone in her early desolation, had found her -children now so well grown as to make it advisable to remove to one of -the factory villages, where she became a popular boarding house keeper, -and her children operatives in the mill. - -Thus, I was again left to myself. The schools were not the best, but all -that could be done for me, in or out of them, was done. I had been -especially well taught to sew and liked it, but knitting was beyond me. -I could not be held to it, and it was given up. - -Through the confirmed invalidism of my elder sister, Dorothea, I lost -her beautiful guidance, but the watchful care of my younger sister, now -Mrs. Vassall, was truly pathetic. She never lost sight of my welfare, -and her fine literary taste was a constant inspiration. - - -While thus in the midst of my various pursuits and vocations, an -accidental turn in my wheel of fortune changed my entire course (for a -time at least) and how much bearing, if any, it may have had on the -future, I have never been able to determine. I have spoken of the -younger of my two brothers, of the firm of S. & D. Barton, as a fine -horseman. He was more than that. In these days he would have been an -athlete. The two men were but two years apart in age, of fine -disposition and excellent physical strength, integrity and courage; of -fine disposition and equable temper; yet neither of them men with whom -an opponent would carelessly or tauntingly covet an encounter. The -younger, David, from his physical activity and daring, was always -selected for any feat of danger to be performed. - -These were days when even buildings were “raised by hand.” All the -neighborhood was expected to participate in a “raising.” Upon one -occasion, an uncommonly large barn, with what was then still more -uncommon, a cellar beneath, was to be raised. The rafters must be -affixed to the ridgepole, and David Barton was assigned to this duty. -While in its performance, a timber on which he was standing, having been -weakened by an unobserved knot, suddenly gave way, and he fell directly -to the first floor, striking on his feet on another timber near the -bottom of the cellar. Without falling he leaped to the ground, and after -a few breathless minutes declared himself unhurt, but was not permitted -to return aloft. It was spoken of as a “remarkable adventure,” “a -wonderful escape,” etc., and for a few days all went well, with the -exception of a slight and quite unaccustomed headache, which continued -to increase as the July weather progressed. At length he showed symptoms -of fever; the family physician was called, and here commenced a system -of medical treatment quite unknown to our physicians of the present day, -other than as results of historical research and milestones of -scientific advancement. - -He was pronounced in a “settled fever,” which must not be “broken up,” -and could only be held in check by reducing the strength of the patient. -He had “too much blood,” was “too vigorous,” “just the patient for a -fever to ‘go hard with,’” it was said. Accordingly, the blood was taken -from time to time, as long as it seemed safe to do so. The terrible pain -in the head continued and blisters were applied to all possible places, -in the hope of withdrawing the pain. Sleepless, restless, in agony both -physical and mental, his case grew desperate. He had been my ideal from -earliest memory. I was distressed beyond measure at his condition. I had -been his little protégée, his companion, and in his nervous wretchedness -he clung to me. Thus, from the first days and nights of illness, I -remained near his side. The fever ran on and over all the traditional -turning points, seven, fourteen, twenty-one days. I could not be taken -away from him except by compulsion, and he was unhappy until my return. -I learned to take all directions for his medicines from his physician -(who had eminent counsel) and to administer them like a genuine nurse. - -My little hands became schooled to the handling of the great, loathsome, -crawling leeches which were at first so many snakes to me, and no -fingers could so painlessly dress the angry blisters; and thus it came -about, that I was the accepted and acknowledged nurse of a man almost -too ill to recover. - -Finally, as the summer passed, the fever gave way, and for a wonder the -patient did not. No physician will doubt that I had given him poison -enough to have killed him many times over, if suitably administered with -that view. He will also understand the condition in which the patient -was left. They had certainly succeeded in reducing his strength. - -Late in the autumn he stood on his feet for the first time since July. -Still sleepless, nervous, cold, dyspeptic—a mere wreck of his former -self. None were so disturbed over his condition as his kind-hearted, and -for those days, skillful physicians, who had exhausted their knowledge -and poured out their sympathy and care like water, on the patient who, -for his manliness and bravery, they had come to respect, and for his -suffering learned to love with a parent’s tenderness. - -It now became a matter of time. Councils of physicians for twenty miles -around sat in judgment on the case. They could only recommend; and more -blisters, setons and various methods of external irritation for the -withdrawal of internal pain followed, from month to month and season to -season. All these were my preferred care. - -I realize now how carefully and apprehensively the whole family watched -the little nurse, but I had no idea of it then. I thought my position -the most natural thing in the world; I almost forgot that there was an -outside to the house. - -This state of things continued with little change—a trifling gain of -strength in my patient at times—for two years, when, entirely -unexpected, the most tabooed and little known of all medical treatments, -restored him to health. It is to be remembered at that date there was no -homeopathy, no hydropathy, no sanitariums, no Christian Science, nothing -but the regular school of allopathic medicine. Medical practitioners, -baffled by lack of science, surrounded by ignorance on all such subjects -and more or less of superstition, struggled manfully on toward the -blessed light of the scientific knowledge of to-day, which they have so -richly attained. - -It was not to be wondered at that the slightest departure from the -beaten track, under these conditions, was held as unpardonable and -punishable quackery; and that the first “ism” that broke through the -defense fought the fight of a forlorn hope. There are young physicians -of good historical knowledge to-day, who have never learned that -“Thompsonianism” was that “ism”; that Dr. Samuel Thompson fought that -fight, and that they are pursuing many excellent methods which are the -result of his thought; that it was he who first advanced the theory (in -this country at least,) that fever was not the foe, but the friend of -the patient; that it was simply unequal animal warmth and vigor—that -people did not have too much blood any more than they had too much bone, -and could as ill afford to lose it; that if the blood were too thick, or -too thin, or of a bad quality, taking away a portion of it would not -rectify or purify the remainder. That a blister was not likely to soothe -a nervous patient to sleep, or to extract a pain, save by creating a -greater. But that a better way to treat disturbances was to open the -pores generally, by a vapor bath—designated “Thompson’s Steam Box,” and -greatly to be feared. He and his few followers were known as “Steam -Doctors”—and the public warned against them. - -It happened that one of his disciples, a “Steam Doctor,” residing in a -neighboring town (I will write his name in grateful remembrance—Dr. Asa -McCullum), had watched this remarkable case with interest and pity, -convinced that the right remedies had not reached it. - -He ventured at length to approach my father on the subject; then my -brother, who was willing to attempt anything short of suicide. The -result was the removal of the patient to the home asylum of the doctor -for treatment. In three weeks he was so far restored as to return home -and take his place in his business, like one come back from the dead. I -remember the greetings—the tears of gladness on the blessed face of our -family physician when he came to welcome him home: “And so, David, -something good has come out of Nazareth.” - -I was again free; my occupation gone. Life seemed very strange and idle -to me. I wondered that my father took me to ride so much, and that my -mother hoped she could make me some new clothes now, for in the two -years I had not grown an inch, had been to school one-half day, and had -gained one pound in weight. - -This singular mode of life, at so young an age, could not have been -without its characteristic effects. In some respects it had served to -heighten serious defects. The seclusion had increased the troublesome -bashfulness. I had grown even more timid, shrinking and sensitive in the -presence of others; absurdly careful and methodical for a child; afraid -of giving trouble by letting my wants be known, thereby giving the very -pain I sought to avoid, and instead of feeling that my freedom gave me -time for recreation or play, it seemed to me like time wasted, and I -looked anxiously about for some useful occupation. - -As usual, my blessed sister, Mrs. Vassall, came to the rescue. Taking -advantage of an all-absorbing love of poetry (which I always had) she -made a weapon of it by providing me with the poetical works of Walter -Scott, which I had not read, and proposed that we read them together. We -naturally commenced with “The Lady of the Lake.” I was immediately -transported to the Highlands and the Bonny Braes, plucking the heather -and broom and guiding the skiff across Loch Katrine, listening to the -sweet warning song of poor crazed Blanche of Devon, thrilling with, -“Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu,” and trudging along with the old minstrel and -Ellen to Sterling tower and the Court of Fitz-James. “Marmion” followed, -and then all the train of English poetry that a child could take in. - - -My second individual ownership was “Billy.” His personality (which I -never questioned), was represented by a high stepping brown Morgan -horse, with glossy coat, slim legs, pointed ears, long curly black mane -and tail, and weighing nearly nine hundred pounds. - -Although a good driver, his forte was the saddle. His gait (or rather, I -should say, gaits) was first a delightful single-foot; but which he had -the faculty of changing to a rack, or pace or trot, as occasion or haste -seemed to call for; and as a last resort, he could cover them all by -something one does not like to name; but we only used that gait on -extraordinary occasions. My father had purchased and given Billy to me -when about ten years old. The same figures will do for us both. - -I had three or four neighboring girl associates who also had their own -or family horses, and our riding parties were the events of the season. -Anticipating the deep, forbidding snows of the winter in New England, we -had the custom of celebrating Thanksgiving day by a final party for the -season. Even this was cold and had often some traces of snow. - -On the present occasion there were but three of us, Martha, Eveline and -myself. Martha had a fine sorrel trotter, Eveline a spirited -single-footer. The day was cold and threatening. Our ride was to -Worcester, some ten miles. When about three miles from home, on our -return, a blinding snowstorm set in, literally a gale. This either -frightened or excited Eveline’s horse, which, mastering the situation by -a quick toss of the head, and catch of the bit (a trick he evidently -understood), dropped his single-foot as something adapted to ladies and -little girls, and fell to using all the feet he had, the best he knew. -Awed by her peril, but powerless to aid, we could only follow our -fleeing comrade to be ready to help when she should fall, as we were -sure she must. The gale mercilessly increased; so did our speed. We kept -nearly alongside, every horse upon the “dead run.” - -We must have presented a striking miniature picture of the veritable -“Three Furies” on a rampage. A country road and no one passing. Martha -and myself each rushing directly past our own homes unobserved in the -storm, till at length we rounded the curve that brought the flying horse -in sight of his own stable. They had sighted the coming cavalcade. The -gates were thrown wide open, and a man stationed on either side to catch -both horse and rider when they should enter. - -Seeing the worn-out girl once safely in her father’s arms, we turned -away, with an entirely new chapter added to our very limited stock of -equestrian knowledge. We were all alive and unharmed, and I alone am -here now to tell the little stories of childhood’s terrifying dangers -and miraculous escapes. - - -We were midway between the two district schools, a long mile and a half -from either, and it frequently chanced that a season or two of -indifferent schools followed each other in train. The experiment of -sending me away to school was not to be repeated, and accordingly I was -undertaken at home. My mathematical brother, Stephen, took charge of -that department, and Mrs. Vassall the other needful studies, while my -former patient, brother David, the equestrian of early days, now grown -strong and well, kept to his rule of practical teaching. I recall -vividly the half impatient frown on his fine face when he would see me -do an awkward thing, however trivial. He detested false motions; wanted -the thing done rightly the first time. If I started to go somewhere, go, -and not turn back; if to do something, do it. I must throw a ball or a -stone with an under swing like a boy and not a girl, and must make it go -where I sent it, and not fall at my feet and foolishly laugh at it. If I -would drive a nail, strike it fairly on the head every time, and not -split the board. If I would draw a screw, turn it right the first time. -I must tie a square knot that would hold, and not tie my horse with a -slip noose and leave him to choke himself. These were little things, -still a part of the instructions not to be undervalued. In the rather -practical life which has sometimes fallen to me, I have wondered if they -were not among the most useful, and if that handsome frown were not one -of my best lessons. - -At length there came a school that could be utilized, and my family -instructors were relieved. The school to the north of us was undertaken -by Mr. Lucian Burleigh, a younger member of the noted Burleigh family, -and brother of William H. Burleigh, the poet. It seemed very strange to -me to be in school again. I had been so long accustomed to govern -myself, in a manner, that I wondered how any one should need others to -govern them. If scholars came there to learn, why should they try, or -want, to do anything else? There is no doubt that I seemed equally -unaccountable and prudish to them. - -[Illustration: - - MR. JONATHAN DANA, - - MY OXFORD TEACHER. -] - -The quick perceptions of the teacher at once comprehended the -conditions, and he treated me with the greatest consideration and -kindness; advising such changes and additions as seemed suitable, and -most in accord with the studies I had taken with me; even, as I could -later see, forming some new classes in branches outside of the customary -routine of the public school; as elementary astronomy, ancient history, -and the “Science of Language”; his own literary and scholarly tastes -pointing significantly to the latter. If Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” and -Pollok’s “Course of Time” were ever dissected, transposed, analyzed and -“parsed” by any class of vigilant youths, it was then and there. - -The winter passed all too soon. A mile and a half through the snow had -been only a pleasure. Our faithful, brotherly teacher left us, never to -return; but the still brotherly friendship between teacher and pupil -remained unbroken until his summons came. - -After a busy summer a similarly good fortune awaited me in the next -winter term of school. Mr. Jonathan Dana, one of Oxford’s most scholarly -men and a teacher of note, commenced the winter school to the south of -us. I have no words to describe the value of his instruction, nor the -pains he took with his eager pupil. I had been far too thoroughly -drilled to require time for the customary classes of the public school, -but did require instruction in branches forbidden in their lawful -curriculum. - -In spite of the labor of a school of sixty pupils of all ages, with no -assistant, I was permitted to take philosophy, chemistry and elementary -Latin—all to be taught outside of school hours. With no laboratory at -hand, I have often marveled at the amount of experimental instruction he -found it possible to give me. So generally appreciated was the -excellence of the school that the term was continued beyond the -customary three months. My grateful homage for my inestimable teacher -and his interest in his early pupil, became memories of a lifetime, and -the social acquaintance was never interrupted until the late summons -came to him, white haired and venerable, to go up higher. - -My family were all gratified by my progress and my deportment as a -student, but I was still diffident, timid, non-committal, afraid of -giving trouble and difficult to understand. My physical growth had not -met their expectations nor their hopes. I grew slowly and was still a -“little girl” in appearance. This went to show how positive the early -check had been, and how slowly the repairs were made, for it was said -that I gained an inch in height between the ages of twenty and -twenty-one. - - -The firm of my brothers, S. & D. Barton, had added to their ever -increasing business the manufacture of cloth. A factory had been erected -and a partnership entered into with Messrs. Paul and Samuel Parsons, two -elegant gentlemen among the earlier manufacturers of satinet in this -country, and the new factory was known as “The Satinet Mill of North -Oxford.” A very superior article of cloth was made, the operatives -almost entirely American, and very largely from families of the -neighborhood or surrounding country. Occupations for women were few in -those days, and often the school and music teacher, weary of the -monotonous life, sought change in the more remunerative loom of the -factory. I name this as a matter of history, as the North Oxford Mills -were the third, if not the second after Slater, who produced the first -spindle and power looms in America, at the risk of his life. - -I had been taken through the new factory by my brother; had seen these -young persons at work; watched the shuttles fly under the deft fingers -of the weavers, and felt that there was something I could do. There was -no school, I was idle. After a little quiet reflection I astonished the -family by announcing my desire to go into the mill. I wanted to weave -cloth. At first they tried laughing at me. I was too sensitive to be -dealt with in that way. Then reasoning. I was “too small”; it was not a -proper thing for me to do. But I was not easily dissuaded. One day in -the midst of a family council, my brother Stephen chanced to call. He -listened attentively, saw that I was anxious and troubled, and was -giving trouble to others as well. At length he spoke. Addressing my -mother, he said: “I do not see anything so very much out of the way in -the request. I wonder if we are not drawing the lines too tightly on our -little sister? A few years ago she wanted to learn to dance; this was -denied as frivolous and improper; now she asks to work. She took up a -work by herself and did it two years, a work that no child would be -expected to do, and did it well. She is certainly a properly behaved -little girl, and I cannot understand why we should trouble ourselves or -her so much concerning the proprieties of her life. For my part, I am -very willing to arrange a pair of looms for her and let her try.” A hush -fell on the group. My anxious mother seemed relieved. The big brother -had spoken. I crept shyly up under his stalwart arm and kissed his -bearded cheek. - -The next day a low platform was run along in front of a pair of new, -glossy looms, just by the desk of the overseer of the room. A good -weaver was given charge to instruct me, and when I stepped upon that -platform and looked down upon the evenly drawn warp and the swiftly -flying shuttles, and felt that they were mine, I imagine the sensation -was akin to that of a young queen whose foot first presses the throne. I -was too carefully watched to permit a mistake, and too interested to be -tired. Before the end of the week I was able to discharge my -instructress, or it is more probable she discharged herself in view of -my self-sufficiency. I could scarcely wait in the morning for the bell -to call me, early as it would be, and I walked up that long, outside -flight of black, greasy stairs and entered that whirring, clashing room -with as much pride and satisfaction as I would have entered the finest -and most highly embellished schoolroom. I observed that the help all -looked at me as I went in, and McDonald, the overseer, always raised his -Scotch cap a bit by the tassel, or touched his finger to the rim, -fitting so closely to his high forehead. I thought I ought to make some -acknowledgement of this, and always did so, but could not understand it. -I told my mother about it and asked her what he did it for? She said -that it was probably because I was “so little.” That perhaps if I were -as large as the other girls he might not do it. I thought this a -reasonable solution and was satisfied. - -I finished my first week, commenced my second, and went through with no -assistance. On Saturday my webs were cut from the looms, examined and -pronounced of first quality, showing great care. I took my proud record -home. The next day (Sunday), Mr. Samuel Parsons, with the prudent care -that could not trust even the watchman too implicitly, went into the -mill by himself, ascending to the picker room in the top story, where -the light, oiled wool was piled in great quantities. He casually placed -his hand upon it in passing, and observing that it felt warm, he plunged -his arm in to lift it. The flames enveloped him. He ran at full speed -the length of the building to the bell rope. The fire was there almost -before him. He gave two strokes, when the flames drove him from the -room; they licked down the air shafts and belt holes, lapping up the oil -like so much food, as it was. - -The perfection of the magnificent fire departments of the present day -was far in the future then. In three hours it was all over, and the new -North Oxford Satinet Mills were a smoking pile of rubbish, a thing of -the past. No heart was heavier than mine. The strong, energetic brothers -knew that rebuilding would commence at once, but I mourned without hope. - -If ever there were lost or omitted a well-turned joke or a bit of humor -by the various members of the Barton family it was clearly an accident, -no such omission being ever intended; and thus it was suggested to me, -that, as the fire was manifestly a case of spontaneous combustion, could -it have been that I worked so fast that the friction set the mill on -fire? That joke on me lasted many years. The mill was rebuilt, as well -as several others, some to be burned, some to be sold; but I had found -other occupations more congenial to the other members of the household, -it is to be hoped, if not to me. - -The recital of this incident by myself, or some one else, has given rise -to the bit of romance cropping out occasionally, in the sketches one -sees, that I was a factory girl and earned the money to pay off the -mortgage on my father’s farm. I wish the first statement might have been -true. Nothing to-day would gratify me more than to know that I had been -one of those self-reliant, intelligent, American-born girls like our -sweet poetess, Lucy Larcom, and like her had stood before the power -looms in the early progress of the manufactories of our great and -matchless country. I fear that my plain, simple facts will rob many a -fancy sketch of its brightest tints, as in this instance. I am compelled -to confess in regard to the second statement, that my father never had a -mortgage that I knew of, and, therefore, had no need of my brave help. -On the other hand, he had something to give to me. - - -I think it usually occurs in small communities that there is one family, -or one house, to which all strangers or new comers naturally gravitate. -Nothing was plainer than that ours was that house. All lecturers, upon -any subject, clergymen on trial, whoever had a new idea to expound and -was in need of an abiding place meanwhile, found one there. My father’s -active and liberal mind inclined him to examination and toleration, and -his cordial hospitality was seconded by my mother’s welcome to any one -who could bring new thought or culture to herself or her family. - -These were the very earliest days of phrenology. The famous brothers, O. -S. and L. N. Fowler, worthy disciples of Spurzheim and Coombe, were -commencing their lifelong work. Young men of advanced ideas, thought, -energy and purpose. - -The “Phrenological Journal,” if existing at all, was in its infancy. The -Fowler brothers were among the most interesting and popular lecturers in -the country. Two courses of lectures by L. N. Fowler were arranged for -our town; one for North and the other for South Oxford, or “Oxford -Plain,” as it is better known. He very naturally became the guest of my -father and mother. - -These two courses of lectures covered nearly a month of time. How can -the value of the results of that month, extending through a lifetime, be -put into words? How measure the worth of the ideas, the knowledge of -one’s self, and of others, growing out of it? Aside from this was his -aid and comfort to my mother in her perplexity concerning her -incomprehensible child. I recall the long, earnest talks, in which it -was evident that I was the prime subject, although not clearly realizing -it at the time. Upon one occasion there was no question. I was ill (of -mumps, I believe) and to avoid loneliness was permitted to lie on the -lounge in the large sitting room through the day. Forgetting my -presence, or believing me asleep, the conversation went on in my -hearing, portions of which at this late day I recall. My mother remarked -that none of her children had ever been so difficult to manage. “Was I -disobedient, exacting or wayward?” asked Mr. Fowler. Oh no! she often -wished I were, she would then know what to do, for I would make my wants -known, and they could be supplied. But I was so timid and afraid of -making trouble that they were in constant fear of neglecting me; I would -do without the most needed article rather than ask for it, and my -bashfulness increased rather than diminished as I grew older. As an -illustration, she stated that only last Sunday the child appeared with -bare hands when we were ready for church. Upon being asked where were -her gloves, she reluctantly replied that she “had none. They were worn -out.” Upon being asked why she had not said so and asked for others, the -reply was a burst of tears and an attempt to leave the room. “We would -not permit this unhappy day at home alone, and took her as she was,” -said my mother. All this sounded very badly to me as I heard it -rehearsed. It was all true, all wrong; would I, could I ever learn to do -better? - -Mr. Fowler replied that these characteristics were all indicated; that, -however much her friends might suffer from them, she would always suffer -more. “They may be apparently outgrown, but the sensitive nature will -always remain. She will never assert herself for herself—she will suffer -wrong first—but for others she will be perfectly fearless.” To my -mother’s anxious question, “what shall I do?” he replied, “Throw -responsibility upon her. She has all the qualities of a teacher. As soon -as her age will permit, give her a school to teach.” I well remember how -this suggestion shocked me. I should not have remembered all these -advices, but years after they were found with much more among my -mother’s carefully preserved papers; some correspondence must have -followed. The depth and faithfulness of the interest felt, was shown in -the fact that the great reader of human character, through his long life -in foreign lands as well as his own, never forgot the troublesome child. -Occasional correspondence and valued meetings across the sea marked the -milestones of life, till one road came to an end. A great and true man -and friend of humanity had gone, and the world was better for his having -lived in it. - -At the close of the second term of school, the advice was acted upon, -and it was arranged that I teach the school in District No. 9. My sister -resided within the district. How well I remember the preparations—the -efforts to look larger and older, the examination by the learned -committee of one clergyman, one lawyer and one justice of the peace; the -certificate with “excellent” added at the close; the bright May morning -over the dewy, grassy road to the schoolhouse, neither large nor new, -and not a pupil in sight. - -On entering, I found my little school of forty pupils all seated -according to their own selection, quietly waiting with folded hands. -Bright, rosy-cheeked boys and girls from four to thirteen, with the -exception of four lads, as tall and nearly as old as myself. These four -boys naturally looked a little curiously at me, as if forming an opinion -of how best to dispose of me, as rumor had it that on the preceding -summer, not being _en rapport_ with the young lady teacher, they had -excluded her from the building and taken possession themselves. All -arose as I entered, and remained standing until requested to sit. Never -having observed how schools were opened, I was compelled, as one would -say, to “blaze my own way.” I was too timid to address them, but holding -my Bible, I said they might take their Testaments and turn to the Sermon -on the Mount. All who could read, read a verse each, I reading with them -in turn. This opened the way for remarks upon the meaning of what they -had read. I found them more ready to express themselves than I had -expected, which was helpful to me as well. I asked them what they -supposed the Saviour meant by saying that they must love their enemies -and do good to them that hated and misused them? This was a hard -question, and they hesitated, until at length a little bright-eyed girl -with great earnestness replied: “I think He meant that you must be good -to everybody, and mustn’t quarrel nor make nobody feel bad, and I’m -going to try.” An ominous smile crept over the rather hard faces of my -four lads, but my response was so prompt, and my approval so hearty, -that it disappeared and they listened attentively but ventured no -remarks. With this moderate beginning the day progressed, and night -found us social, friendly and classed for a school. Country schools did -not admit of home dinners. I also remained. On the second or third day -an accident on their outside field of rough play called me to them. They -had been playing unfairly and dangerously and needed teaching, even to -play well. I must have thought they required object lessons, for almost -imperceptibly either to them or to myself, I joined in the game and was -playing with them. - -My four lads soon perceived that I was no stranger to their sports or -their tricks; that my early education had not been neglected, and that -they were not the first boys I had seen. When they found that I was as -agile and as strong as themselves, that my throw was as sure and as -straight as theirs, and that if they won a game it was because I -permitted it, their respect knew no bounds. No courtesy within their -knowledge was neglected. Their example was sufficient for the entire -school. I have seen no finer type of boys. They were faithful to me in -their boyhood, and in their manhood faithful to their country. Their -blood crimsoned its hardest fields, and the little bright-eyed girl with -the good resolve, has made her whole life a blessing to others, and -still lives to follow the teaching given her. Little Emily has “made -nobody feel bad.” - -My school was continued beyond the customary length of time, and its -only hard feature was our parting. In memory I see that pitiful group of -children sobbing their way down the hill after the last good-bye was -said, and I was little better. We had all been children together, and -when, in accordance with the then custom at town meetings, the grades of -the schools were named and No. 9 stood first for discipline, I thought -it the greatest injustice, and remonstrated, affirming that there had -been no discipline, that not one scholar had ever been disciplined. -Child that I was, I did not know that the surest test of discipline is -its absence. - -If the published school report, so misunderstood by me, had given me -displeasure, it had also given me a local reputation, quite as -unexpected. I soon found myself the recipient of numerous invitations to -teach in the nearby towns, especially such schools as required the -“discipline” so largely accredited to, and so little deserved, by me. - -Declination, on my part, was not to be thought of. All members of the -family were only too grateful for the progress I had made towards proper -self-assurance to permit any backsliding, and it was early settled that -I accept the application of the honorable committee, to teach the next -summer school at what was known as the “Mill-ward” in the adjoining town -of Charlton, commencing on the first Monday in May of the following -year—a “master” teaching the winter term. - - -One day, early in September, my brother David, now one of the active, -popular business men of the town, nearly took my breath away by inviting -me to accompany him on a journey to the state of Maine, to be present at -his wedding and with him bring back the wife who was to grace his home -and share his future life. - -There was now more lengthening of skirts, and a rush of dressmaking such -as I had never known before; and when, two weeks later, I found myself -with my brother and a rather gay party of ladies and gentlemen, friends -of his, at one of the most elegant hotels in Boston (where I had never -been) waiting the arrival of a delayed steamer, I was so overcome by the -dread of committing some impropriety or indiscretion which might -embarrass my brother that I begged him to permit me to go back home. I -was not distressed about what might be thought of _me_. I did not seem -to care much about that; but how it might reflect upon my brother, and -the mortification that my awkwardness could not fail to inflict on him. - -I had never set foot on a vessel or seagoing craft of any kind, and -when, in the glitter of that finely equipped steamer, I really crossed -over a corner of the great Atlantic ocean, the very waves of which -touched other continents as well, I felt that my world was miraculously -widening. - -It was another merry party, and magnificent spans of horses that met and -galloped away with us over the country to our destination. - -But the crowning astonishment came when I was informed that it was the -desire and decision of all parties, that I act as bridesmaid. That I -assist in introducing the younger of the guests, and stand beside the -tall, handsome young bride who was to be my sister, while she pledged -her troth to the brother dearer to me than my own life. - -This responsibility seemed to throw the whole world wide open to me. How -well I remember the tearful resolution with which I pledged myself to -try to overcome my troublesome propensities and to strive only for the -courage of the right, and for the fearlessness of true womanhood so much -needed and earnestly desired, and so painfully lacking. - -[Illustration: - - DAVID BARTON. - - MY YOUNGER BROTHER AND RIDING MASTER. -] - -November found us home again. Under the circumstances, there must -naturally be a share of social gayeties during the winter, and some -preparations for my new school duties; and I waited with more or less -apprehension for what would be my first life among strangers, and the -coming of my anticipated “First of May.” With slight variation I could -have joined truthfully in the dear old child refrain: - - “Then wake and call me early, - Call me early, mother dear,” - For that will be the veriest day - “Of all the glad New Year.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - 4. Enclosed bold font in =equals=. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/64704-0.zip b/old/64704-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 26b7ee1..0000000 --- a/old/64704-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h.zip b/old/64704-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d6936ae..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/64704-h.htm b/old/64704-h/64704-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e5d9465..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/64704-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3380 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Story of My Childhood, by Clara Barton</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } - h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; } - h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; } - .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; - text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; - border: thin solid silver; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; } - p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; } - .sc { font-variant: small-caps; } - .xlarge { font-size: x-large; } - .small { font-size: small; } - .lg-container-b { text-align: center; } - .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-b { clear: both; } - .lg-container-l { text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-l { clear: both; } - .lg-container-r { text-align: right; } - .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-r { clear: both; } - .linegroup { display: inline-block; text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .linegroup { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; } - .linegroup .group { margin: 1em auto; } - .linegroup .line { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; } - div.linegroup > :first-child { margin-top: 0; } - .linegroup .in12 { padding-left: 9.0em; } - .linegroup .in14 { padding-left: 10.0em; } - .linegroup .in2 { padding-left: 4.0em; } - .linegroup .in4 { padding-left: 5.0em; } - .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; } - ol.ol_1 {padding-left: 0; margin-left: 2.78%; margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .5em; list-style-type: decimal; } - div.pbb { page-break-before: always; } - hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom: 1em; } - .x-ebookmaker hr.pb { display: none; } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .figcenter { clear: both; max-width: 100%; margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; } - .figleft { clear: left; float: left; max-width: 100%; margin: 0.5em 1em 1em 0; - text-align: justify; } - .figright { clear: right; float: right; max-width: 100%; margin: 0.5em 0 1em 1em; - text-align: right; } - div.figcenter p { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } - div.figleft p { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } - div.figright p { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } - .x-ebookmaker .figleft { float: left; } - .x-ebookmaker .figright { float: right; } - .figcenter img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .figleft img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .figright img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .id001 { width:90%; } - .id002 { width:60%; } - .id003 { width:30%; } - .id004 { width:30%; } - .x-ebookmaker .id001 { margin-left:5%; width:90%; } - .x-ebookmaker .id002 { margin-left:20%; width:60%; } - .x-ebookmaker .id003 { width:30%; } - .x-ebookmaker .id004 { margin-left:35%; width:30%; } - .ic002 { width:100%; } - .ig001 { width:100%; } - .nf-center { text-align: center; } - .nf-center-c0 { text-align: justify; margin: 0.5em 0; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: -0em; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: left; margin: 0.100em 0.100em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; line-height: 0.6em; text-indent: 0; } - @media handheld { - p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: 0; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: none; margin: 0; font-size: 100%; } - } - .c000 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c001 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em; } - .c002 { margin-top: 2em; } - .c003 { margin-top: 1em; } - .c004 { margin-top: 4em; } - .c005 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; } - .c006 { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c007 { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c008 { margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c009 { margin-top: 2em; text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c010 { margin-top: 1em; font-size: .9em; } - div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA; - border:thin solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; font-family: Georgia, serif; - } - .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; } - div.tnotes p { text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block; } - .figcenter,.figleft,.figright {font-size: .9em; page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; } - img {max-height: 32em; } - p,h1,h2,h3 { clear: both; } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .section { page-break-before: always; } - .ol_1 li {font-size: .9em; } - .x-ebookmaker .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0em; } - body {font-family: Georgia, serif, 'DejaVu Sans'; text-align: justify; } - table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; - clear: both; } - div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; } - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } - .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; - page-break-before: always; } - .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The story of my childhood, by Clara Barton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The story of my childhood</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Clara Barton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 05, 2021 [eBook #64704]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD ***</div> - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>CLARA BARTON</span></div> - <div class='c002'>NEW YORK</div> - <div>THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO.</div> - <div>1907</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>Copyright, 1907, by</span></div> - <div><span class='small'><span class='sc'>The Journal Publishing Co.</span>,</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>Meriden, Conn.</span></div> - <div class='c002'><span class='small'><span class='sc'>The Journal Press.</span></span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span> - <h2 class='c005'>PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dear Miss Clara Barton</em>:</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'>Our classes in The History of the United -States are studying about you, and we want -to know more.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Our teacher says she has seen you. That -you live in, or near Washington, District -of Columbia, and that, although very busy, -she thought you might be willing to receive -a short letter from us, and I write -to ask you to be so kind as to tell us what -you did when you were a little girl like us. -All of us want to know. I am almost thirteen.</p> - -<p class='c006'>If you could send us a few words, we -should all be very happy. I write for all.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Your little girl friend,</div> - <div class='line in14'><span class='sc'>Mary St. Clare</span>,</div> - <div class='line in14'>* * * New York.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>October third, nineteen hundred, six.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span><em>Miss Clara Barton</em>:</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'>I am studying about you in my History, -and what you did in the war, and I thought -I would write and ask you what you did -afore you did that.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Yours truly,</div> - <div class='line in4'><span class='sc'>James C. Hamlin</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>* * * Center, Iowa,</div> - <div class='line in2'>May 24th, 1906.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span><b>Dear Children of the Schools:</b></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'>Your oft-repeated appeals have reached -me. They are too many and too earnest -to be disregarded; and because of them, -and because of my love for you, I have -dedicated this little book to you. I have -made it small, that you may the more easily -read it. I have done it in the hope that -it may give you pleasure, and in the wish -that, when you shall be women and men, -you may each remember, as I do, that you -were once a child, full of childish thoughts -and action, but of whom it was said, “Suffer -them to come unto Me, and forbid -them not, for of such is the Kingdom of -Heaven.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Faithfully your friend,</div> - <div class='line in12'>CLARA BARTON.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Glen Echo, Maryland,</div> - <div class='line in2'>May twenty-ninth, 1907.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> -<img src='images/i_009.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY CLARA BARTON.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c008'>It was May—the cherry trees were in -bloom. For the first time in three -years I had been able to sit for an -evening among a company of persons -(invalids like myself seeking -strength), trying to entertain them -with some remembrances of bygone -days. I see it still, the broad parlor of -that grand old “Hillside Home,” the -mother and inspiration of all the hundreds -of sanitariums and health restoring -institutions of the country to-day. -I had made my home near it, at -the foot of the blossoming orchard.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>Down among the trees and twittering -robins next morning came one of -my listeners; a broad-shouldered, -manly looking man, the face so full of -benign intelligence that once seen was -never to be forgotten. He came in at -the open door, merrily shaking off the -cherry blossoms like large flakes of -early snow, an entire stranger to me -until the previous evening. He seated -himself and entered into conversation -with a familiar ease that bespoke the -cultured gentleman. After a few -minutes he turned earnestly to me -with: “Miss Barton, I have an errand -in coming to you. I have a request -to make.”</p> - -<p class='c006'>I said I hoped I should be able to -comply. He hesitated, as if thinking -how to commence, but at length said: -“I want you to recall and write the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>first thing you remember—the first -event that made sufficient impression -upon you to be remembered.”</p> - -<p class='c006'>I waited in silence and he went on:</p> - -<p class='c006'>“And then I want you to write the -next, and then the next, and so on, -until you have written all—everything -connected with yourself and your life -that you can recall. I want it; we -want it; the world wants it, and again -I ask you to do it. Can you promise -me?”</p> - -<p class='c006'>His earnest manner demanded an -earnest reply. I could not promise to -do it, but would promise to consider it.</p> - -<p class='c009'>This was in the spring of 1876. I -have never forgotten the request -through all these thirty-one busy years, -and have carefully kept the promise -to consider it; and to-night take my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>pencil to describe the first moment of -my life that I remember.</p> - -<p class='c006'>By the dates I must have been -nearly two and a half years old, for -I was born on Christmas day, and -now the lilacs were in bloom. It was -a rather newly built country house -where I had commenced my earthly -pilgrimage, and being the youngest by -a dozen or so years, of a family of two -brothers and two sisters, I naturally -lacked child playmates and was left -much to my own entertainment.</p> - -<p class='c006'>On this occasion I must have been -enjoying a ramble by myself in the -grass-green dooryard, with the broad -hand-hewn doorstep and the traditional -lilacs on either side. Suddenly -my resounding cries brought the -whole family to the door in alarm. -My wailing took the form of a complaint -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>expressed with my best linguistic -ability:</p> - -<p class='c006'>“Baby los’ ’im—pitty bird—baby -los’ ’im—baby mos’ caught him—pitty -bird—baby mos’ caught ’im.”</p> - -<p class='c006'>At length they succeeded in inducing -me to listen to a question, “But -where did it go, Baby?”</p> - -<p class='c006'>Among my heart-breaking sobs I -pointed to a small round hole under -the doorstep. The terrified scream of -my mother remained in my memory -forever more. Her baby had “mos’ -caught” a snake.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I recall nothing more for nearly -a year and a half, when my terrors -again took possession. An esteemed -and greatly beloved relative of the -family had died. The funeral services -were to be held four miles away. -All the household would attend excepting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>myself and the younger of my -two brothers, David, some sixteen -years old, who was deputed to act as -body guard, doubtless under strict -orders.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I can picture the large family sitting -room with its four open windows, -which room I was not to leave, and -my guardian was to remain near me. -Some outside duty called him from -the house and I was left to my own -observations. A sudden thunder -shower came up; massive rifts of -clouds rolled up in the east, and the -lightning darted among them like -blazing fires. The thunder gave them -language and my terrified imagination -endowed them with life.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Among the animals of the farm was -a huge old ram, that doubtless upon -some occasion had taught me to respect -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>him, and of which I had a mortal -fear. My terrors transformed -those rising, rolling clouds into a -whole heaven full of angry rams, -marching down upon me. Again my -screams alarmed, and the poor brother, -conscience stricken that he had left -his charge, rushed breathless in, to find -me on the floor in hysterics, a condition -of things he had never seen; and -neither memory nor history relate how -either of us got out of it.</p> - -<p class='c006'>In these later years I have observed -that writers of sketches, in a friendly -desire to compliment me, have been -wont to dwell upon my courage, representing -me as personally devoid of -fear, not even knowing the feeling. -However correct that may have become, -it is evident I was not constructed -that way, as in the earlier -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>years of my life I remember nothing -but fear.</p> - -<p class='c006'>There can be no doubt that my advent -into the family was at least a -novelty, as the last before me was a -beautiful blue-eyed, curly-haired little -girl of a dozen summers. That the -event was probably looked for with -interest is shadowed in the fact of -preparations made for it. The still -existing few pieces in my possession -testify to the purchase of a full, complete -and withal rather aristocratic -dinner set of “Old Willow,” which -did faithful service many years; and -the remaining bits of dainty pink and -white, tell of the tea set to match, -in the cups of which were told the future -of many a merry party that -learned their reality through still later -years, not all pink and white.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>I became the seventh member of a -household consisting of the father and -mother, two sisters and two brothers, -each of whom for his and her intrinsic -merits and special characteristics deserves -an individual history, which it -shall be my conscientious duty to portray -as far as possible as these pages -progress. For the present it is enough -to say that each one manifested an increasing -personal interest in the newcomer, -and as soon as developments -permitted, set about instructing her in -the various directions most in accord -with the tastes and pursuits of each.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Of the two sisters, the elder was already -a teacher. The younger followed -soon, and naturally my book education -became their first care, and -under these conditions it is little to -say, that I have no knowledge of ever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>learning to read, or of a time that I -did not do my own story reading. The -other studies followed very early.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My elder brother, Stephen, was a -noted mathematician. He inducted -me into the mystery of figures. -Multiplication, division, subtraction, -halves, quarters and wholes, soon -ceased to be a mystery, and no toy -equalled my little slate. But the -younger brother (he of the thunder -storm and hysterics) had entirely other -tastes, and would have none of these -things. My father was a lover of -horses, and one of the first in the vicinity -to introduce blooded stock. He -had large lands, for New England. He -raised his own colts; and Highlanders, -Virginians and Morgans pranced the -fields in idle contempt of the solid old -farm horses.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>Of my brother, David, to say that -he was fond of horses describes nothing; -one could almost add that he was -fond of nothing else. He was the -Buffalo Bill of the surrounding country, -and here commences his part of -my education. It was his delight to -take me, a little girl five years old, to -the field, seize a couple of those beautiful -young creatures, broken only to -the halter and bit, and gathering the -reins of both bridles firmly in hand, -throw me upon the back of one colt, -spring upon the other himself, and -catching me by one foot, and bidding -me “cling fast to the mane,” gallop -away over field and fen, in and out -among the other colts in wild glee like -ourselves. They were merry rides we -took. This was my riding school. I -never had any other, but it served me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>well. To this day my seat on a saddle -or on the back of a horse is as secure -and tireless as in a rocking chair, -and far more pleasurable. Sometimes, -in later years, when I found -myself suddenly on a strange horse -in a trooper’s saddle, flying for life or -liberty in front of pursuit, I blessed -the baby lessons of the wild gallops -among the beautiful colts.</p> - -<p class='c009'>Various as were the topics of instruction -pursued by my youthful -teachers, my father had still others. -He was “Captain” Stephen Barton, -had served as a non-commissioned officer, -under General Wayne (Mad Anthony) -in the French and Indian Wars -on the then Western frontiers. His -soldier habits and tastes never left -him. Those were also strong political -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>days—Andrew Jackson days—and -very naturally my father became my -instructor in military and political lore. -I listened breathlessly to his war -stories. Illustrations were called for, -and we made battles and fought them. -Every shade of military etiquette was -regarded. Generals, colonels, captains -and sergeants were given their -proper place and rank. So with the -political world; the president, cabinet -and leading officers of the government -were learned by heart, and -nothing gratified the keen humor of -my father more than the parrot-like -readiness with which I lisped these -often difficult names, and the accuracy -with which I repeated them upon -request. My elder sister, with a -teacher’s intuition, mistrusting that -my ideas on these points might be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>somewhat vague, confidentially drew -from me one day my impressions in -regard to the personages whose names -I handled so glibly, and to the amusement -of the family found that I had -no conception of their being men like -other men, but had invested them -with miraculous size and importance. -I thought the president might be as -large as the meeting house, and the -vice-president perhaps the size of the -school house. And yet I am not going -to say that even this instruction -had never any value for me. When -later, I, like all the rest of our country -people, was suddenly thrust into -the mysteries of war, and had to find -and take my place and part in it, I -found myself far less a stranger to -the conditions than most women, or -even ordinary men for that matter; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>I never addressed a colonel as captain, -got my cavalry on foot, or -mounted my infantry.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My mother, like the sensible woman -that she was, seeming to conclude that -there were plenty of instructors without -her, attempted very little, but -rather regarded the whole thing as a -sort of mental conglomeration, and -looked on with a kind of amused curiosity -to see what they would make of -it. Indeed, I heard her remark many -years after, that I came out with a -more level head than she would have -thought possible.</p> - -<p class='c009'>My first individual ownership was -“Button.” In personality (if the term -be admissible), Button represented a -sprightly, medium-sized, very white -dog, with silky ears, sparkling black -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>eyes and a very short tail. His bark -spoke for itself. Button belonged to -me. No other claim was instituted, -or ever had been. It was said that -on my entrance into the family, Button -constituted himself my guardian. -He watched my first steps and tried -to pick me up when I fell down. One -was never seen without the other. He -proved an apt and obedient pupil, -obeying me precept upon precept, if -not line upon line. He stood on two -feet to ask for his food, and made a -bow on receiving it, walked on three -legs when very lame, and so on, after -the manner of his crude instruction; -went everywhere with me through the -day, waited patiently while I said my -prayers and continued his guard on the -foot of the bed at night. Button -shared my board as well as my bed. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>This fact gave opportunity for an -amusing bit of sport for the family at -my expense, as was their wont.</p> - -<p class='c006'>One would, with considerable ado -(to lend importance to the occasion), -make me a present of some divisible -luxury, as cake or candies. This -called, on my part, for positive orders -to all to sit down and share my gift -with me, as I never partook of it -alone. A line or circle was formed, -comprising the entire family, Button -occupying the last seat. I then proceeded -to make a careful hand count -of each, including Button; then retired -and accurately divided my gift, -a piece for each, but not myself, as -I was not in the count. I then went -and gave a piece to every one. The -fun came in watching the silent wonderment -and resignation with which I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>contemplated my own empty hands, a -condition of things I could not at all -comprehend, but made no complaint. -Of course, each in generous sympathy -offered to give back to me his or her -piece; but here came in my careful -mother’s protest and command, so seldom -heard. “No,” I must not be -taught to think I could give a thing -and still possess it, or its value. A -gift must be outright. I must do -earnestly all that I did. Each might -generously give me back a very small -piece, to make in all no more than -would have been my share, and I must -be made to understand that even this -was a favor and not a right. I then -went around and received my crumbs. -This all went well till I came to Button. -When I held out my hand for -his little charity, he had nothing for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>me. I could never understand this -discourtesy of Button.</p> - -<p class='c006'>This was one of the many jokes reserved -for me as I grew older. But -far above and beyond it all, as the -years sped on, and the hands were -still, shone the gleam of the far-sighted -mother’s watchfulness that neither -toil could obscure, nor mirth relax.</p> - -<p class='c009'>My home instruction was by no -means permitted to stand in the way -of the “regular school,” which consisted -of two terms each year, of three -months each. The winter term included -not only the large boys and -girls, but in reality the young men -and young women of the neighborhood. -An exceptionally fine teacher -often drew the daily attendance of advanced -scholars for several miles. Our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>district had this good fortune. I introduce -with pleasure and with reverence -the name of Richard Stone; a -firmly-set, handsome young man of -twenty-six or seven, of commanding -figure and presence, combining all the -elements of a teacher with a discipline -never questioned. His glance -of disapproval was a reprimand, his -frown something he never needed to -go beyond. The love and respect of -his pupils exceeded even their fear. It -was no uncommon thing for summer -teachers to come twenty miles to avail -themselves of the winter term of -“Col.” Stone, for he was a high militia -officer, and at that young age was -a settled man with a family of four -little children. He had married at -eighteen.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I am thus particular in my description -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>of him, both because of my childish -worship of him, and because I shall -have occasion to refer to him later. -The opening of his first term was a -signal for the Barton family, and -seated on the strong shoulders of my -stalwart brother Stephen, I was taken -a mile through the tall drifts to school. -I have often questioned if in this -movement there might not have been -a touch of mischievous curiosity on -the part of these not at all dull youngsters, -to see what my performance at -school might be.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I was, of course, the baby of the -school. I recall no introduction to -the teacher, but was set down among -the many pupils in the by no means -spacious room, with my spelling book -and the traditional slate, from which -nothing could separate me. I was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>seated on one of the low benches and -sat very still. At length the majestic -schoolmaster seated himself, and taking -a primer, called the class of little -ones to him. He pointed the letters -to each. I named them all, and was -asked to spell some little words, “dog,” -“cat,” etc., whereupon I hesitatingly -informed him that I did “not spell -there.” “Where do you spell?” “I -spell in ‘Artichoke,’” that being the -leading word in the three syllable column -in my speller. He good naturedly -conformed to my suggestion, and -I was put into the “artichoke” class -to bear my part for the winter, and -read and “spell for the head.” When, -after a few weeks, my brother Stephen -was declared by the committee to be -too advanced for a common school, -and was placed in charge of an important -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>school himself, my unique -transportation devolved upon the -other brother, David.</p> - -<p class='c006'>No colts now, but solid wading -through the high New England drifts.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The Rev. Mr. Menseur of the -Episcopal church of Leicester, Mass., -if I recollect aright, wisely comprehending -the grievous inadaptability of -the school books of that time, had -compiled a small geography and atlas -suited to young children, known as -Menseur’s Geography. It was a novelty, -as well as a beneficence; nothing -of its kind having occurred to makers -of the school books of that day. -They seemed not to have recognized -the existence of a state of childhood -in the intellectual creation. During -the winter I had become the happy -possessor of a Menseur’s Geography -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>and Atlas. It is questionable if my -satisfaction was fully shared by others -of the household. I required a -great deal of assistance in the study -of my maps, and became so interested -that I could not sleep, and was not -willing that others should, but persisted -in waking my poor drowsy sister -in the cold winter mornings to sit -up in bed and by the light of a tallow -candle, help me to find mountains, rivers, -counties, oceans, lakes, islands, -isthmuses, channels, cities, towns and -capitals.</p> -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_032.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>MY BIRTHPLACE.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>The next May the summer school -opened, taught by Miss Susan Torrey. -Again, I write the name reverently, -as gracing one of the most -perfect of personalities. I was not -alone in my childish admiration, -for her memory remained a living -reality in the town long years after -the gentle spirit fled. My sisters -were both teaching other schools, and -I must make my own way, which I -did, walking a mile with my one precious -little schoolmate, Nancy Fitts. -Nancy Fitts! The playmate of my -childhood; the “chum” of laughing -girlhood; the faithful trusted companion -of young womanhood, and the beloved -life friend that the relentless -grasp of time has neither changed, nor -taken from me.</p> - -<p class='c006'>On entering the wide open door of -the inviting schoolhouse, armed with -some most unsuitable reader, a -spelling book, geography, atlas and -slate, I was seized with an intense fear -at finding myself with no member of -the family near, and my trepidation -became so visible that the gentle teacher, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>relieving me of my burden of -books, took me tenderly on her lap and -did her best to reassure and calm me. -At length I was given my seat, with a -desk in front for my atlas and slate, -my toes at least a foot from the floor, -and that became my daily, happy -home for the next three months.</p> - -<p class='c009'>I partially recall an event which occurred -when I was five years old; the -incidents which I could not have personally -remembered, must have been -supplied by later relations. It seems -that I was suddenly discovered to be -alarmingly ill. In response to the -terror of the moment, the saddle was -thrown on Black Stallion, the king of -the herd, his rough rider mounted and -away for the doctor, on “Oxford -Plain,” five miles away. “Not at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>home—out on a professional drive.” -Followed to “Sutton Street,” six miles -further on. “Gone.” Back over “Hog -Hill” and across the town to the west. -At length overtaken and brought back -at a speed little less than that which -had called him, for the doctor was a -fearless driver. The thunder of the -flying hoofs and the speed of the rider -as they passed had alarmed the people. -All the town knew the horse -and the rider, and knew as well that -something bad had happened at Captain -Barton’s. Men dropped their -work, harnessed their own teams and -drove with all haste to see if, perchance, -it were anything in which they -could help. When the doctor arrived, -the yard and road were filled with -people, waiting his coming and diagnosis.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>Shortly the verbal bulletin went out: -“A sudden, unaccountable and probably -fatal attack of bloody dysentery -and convulsions.” There was no -more for the sympathetic neighbors -to do; they turned sadly away, and -with them went the report that Captain -and Mrs. Barton had lost their -little baby girl.</p> -<div class='figleft id003'> -<img src='images/i_037a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>CAPTAIN STEPHEN BARTON, MY FATHER.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='figright id003'> -<img src='images/i_037b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>SALLY STONE BARTON, MY MOTHER.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>Of all this I have, naturally, no recollection—neither -do I know the lapse -of time till memory again got hold; -but her first grasp of the event was -this: I had occupied as a bed a great -cradle which had been made for some -grown invalid, and preserved in the -household. I was bolstered up in -this cradle, with a little low table at -the side on which was my first meal -of solid food. How I had previously -been nourished I do not know, but I -can see this meal as clearly as if it -had been yesterday. A piece of -brown bread crust, about two inches -square, rye and Indian, baked on the -oven bottom; a tiny wine glass, my -Christmas gift, full of home-made -blackberry cordial, and a wee bit of -my mother’s well cured old cheese. -There was no need to caution me to -eat slowly; knowing that I could have -no more, and in dread of coming to -the last morsel, I nibbled and sipped -and swallowed till I mercifully fell -asleep from exhaustion.</p> - -<p class='c006'>There are a good many men over -the country who would readily believe -that sometimes, at the end of a -long fast, food might have tasted very -good to me, as it did to them; but no -food through the longest fast, ever -had the relish of that brown bread -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>crust; and no royal table has ever -been so kingly as that where I presided -alone over my own feast.</p> - -<p class='c009'>Of the succeeding years, six, seven -and eight, I recall little of note beyond -my studies, excepting a propensity I -indulged for writing verses, many of -which were preserved to amuse, others -to tease me for many years. Colonel -Stone had closed his series of -common schools, and opened a special -institution on “Oxford Plain,” -known as the “Oxford High School.” -Its fame had spread for miles around, -and it was regarded as the <em>Ultima -Thule</em> for teachers, and in a manner -a stepping stone or opening door to -Harvard and Yale.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My brother Stephen had succeeded -Col. Stone in the winter terms of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>home school, and my sisters mainly -had charge of them in summer. Thus -six months of each year offered little -change, the others were long vacations -in which the out-of-doors played -by far the most prominent part. There -were garden and flower beds to be -made, choice pet animals to look after, -a few needy families with little -children to be thought of, and some -sewing to be attempted. These latter -were in accordance with my mother’s -recommendations. I recall no -season of dolls, and believe they were -never included in my curriculum.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Meantime, I fell heir to my mother’s -side saddle, a beautiful piece of -workmanship, and with some difficulty -learned to adjust myself to it, a rather -useless adjustment it seemed to me at -the time, which opinion I still entertain.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>These were years of change in the -family. My brothers had become of -age and were young men of strength, -character and enterprise. They had -“bought out” as the term went, the -two large farms of my father, and -commenced business in earnest for -themselves. My father had purchased -another farm of some three hundred -acres, a few miles nearer the center -of the town.</p> - -<p class='c006'>This was a place of note, having -been one of the points used for security -against the Indians by the old -Huguenot Settlers of Oxford, and -which has made the town historic. -Their main defense was on “Fort -Hill,” several miles to the east. I was -naturally greatly interested in the -changes, and doubtless gave them all -the time I could spare from my increasing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>studies. I can recollect even -now that my life seemed very full for -a little girl of eight years.</p> - -<p class='c009'>During the preceding winter I began -to hear talk of my going away to -school, and it was decided that I be -sent to Col. Stone’s High school, to -board in his family and go home occasionally. -This arrangement, I -learned in later years, had a double -object. I was what is known as a -bashful child, timid in the presence of -other persons, a condition of things -found impossible to correct at home. -In the hope of overcoming this undesirable -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mauvais honte</span></i>, it was decided -to throw me among strangers.</p> - -<p class='c006'>How well I remember my advent. -My father took me in his carriage -with a little dressing case which I dignified -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>with the appellation of “trunk”—something -I had never owned. -It was April—cold and bare. The -house and school rooms adjoined, and -seemed enormously large. The -household was also large. The long -family table with the dignified preceptor, -my loved and feared teacher -at three years, at its head, seemed to -me something formidable. There -were probably one hundred and fifty -pupils daily in the ample school rooms, -of which I was perhaps the youngest, -except the colonel’s own children.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My studies were chosen with great -care. I remember among them, ancient -history with charts. The lessons -were learned to repeat by rote. I -found difficulty both in learning the -proper names and in pronouncing -them, as I had not quite outgrown my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>lisp. One day I had studied very -hard on the Ancient Kings of Egypt, -and thought I had everything perfect, -and when the pupil above me failed -to give the name of a reigning king, -I answered very promptly that it was -“Potlomy.” The colonel checked -with a glance the rising laugh of the -older members of the class, and told -me, very gently, that the P was silent -in that word. I had, however, seen -it all, and was so overcome by mortification -for my mistake, and gratitude -for the kindness of my teacher, -that I burst into tears and was permitted -to leave the room.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_044.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>COLONEL RICHARD C. STONE, MY TEACHER AT THREE YEARS OF AGE.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'>I am not sure that I was really -homesick, but the days seemed very -long, especially Sundays. I was in -constant dread of doing something -wrong, and one Sunday afternoon I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>was sure I had found my occasion. It -was early spring. The tender leaves -had put out and with them the buds -and half open blossoms of the little -cinnamon roses, an unfailing ornamentation -of a well kept New England -home of that day. The children -of the family had gathered in the -front yard, admiring the roses and -daring to pick each a little bouquet. -As I stood holding mine, the heavy -door at my back swung open, and -there was the colonel, in his long, -light dressing gown and slippers, direct -from his study. A kindly spoken -“come with me, Clara,” nearly took -my last breath. I followed his strides -through all the house, up the long -flights of stairs, through the halls of -the school rooms, silently wondering -what I had done more than the others. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>I knew he was by no means -wont to spare his own children. I had -my handful of roses—so had they. -I knew it was very wrong to have -picked them, but why more wrong for -me than for the others? At length, -and it seemed to me an hour, we -reached the colonel’s study, and there, -advancing to meet us, was the Reverend -Mr. Chandler, the pastor of our -Universalist church, whom I knew -well. He greeted me very politely -and kindly, and handed the large, open -school reader which he held, to the -colonel, who put it into my hands, -placed me a little in front of them, and -pointing to a column of blank verse, -very gently directed me to read it. It -was an extract from Campbell’s -“Pleasures of Hope,” commencing, -“Unfading hope, when life’s last embers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>burn.” I read it to the end, a page -or two. When finished, the good pastor -came quickly and relieved me of -the heavy book, and I wondered why -there were tears in his eyes. The colonel -drew me to him, gently stroked -my short cropped hair, went with me -down the long steps, and told me I -could “go back to the children and -play.” I went much more easy in -mind than I came, but it was years -before I comprehended anything -about it.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My studies gave me no trouble, but -I grew very tired, felt hungry all the -time but dared not eat, grew thin and -pale. The colonel noticed it, and -watching me at table found that I was -eating little or nothing, refusing -everything that was offered me. Mistrusting -that it was from timidity, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>had food laid on my plate, but I dared -not eat it, and finally at the end of -the term a consultation was held between -the colonel, my father and our -beloved family physician, Dr. Delano -Pierce, who lived within a few doors -of the school, and it was decided to -take me home until a little older, and -wiser, I could hope. My timid sensitiveness -must have given great annoyance -to my friends. If I ever -could have gotten entirely over it, it -would have given far less annoyance -and trouble to myself all through -life.</p> - -<p class='c006'>To this day, I would rather stand -behind the lines of artillery at Antietam, -or cross the pontoon bridge under -fire at Fredericksburg, than to -be expected to preside at a public -meeting.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>Referring to the breaking up of the -first home, and the removal of my -father and mother to the new one, it -might be well to state the reasons for -the change. A favorite nephew of -my father, Mr. Jeremiah Larned, had -died after a lingering illness, leaving -a widow and four children, from thirteen -to six years of age, on the fine -farm which had descended to him -from his father, Captain Jeremiah -Larned, one of the leading men of -the town. Unfortunately, during his -long illness the farm had become involved -to the extent of necessitating a -sale. This would result in depriving -the widow and her small children -of a home, and in order to prevent -this, and the disadvantages of a creditor’s -sale, it was decided that my -father and a brother-in-law of Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>Larned, Captain Sylvester McIntire, -who had no children, purchase the -farm, and remove there, keeping the -widow and children with them.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The hill farms—for there were two—were -sold to my brothers, who, entering -into partnership, constituted the -well known firm of S. & D. Barton, -continuing mainly through their lives. -Thus I became the occupant of two -homes, my sisters remaining with my -brothers, none of whom were married.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The removal to the second home -was a great novelty to me. I became -observant of all changes made. One -of the first things found necessary on -entering a house of such ancient date, -was a rather extensive renovation, for -those days, of painting and papering. -The leading artisan in that line in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>town was Mr. Sylvanus Harris, a -courteous man of fine manners, good -scholarly acquirements, and who, for -nearly half a lifetime, filled the office -of town clerk. The records of -Oxford will bear his name and his -beautiful handwriting as long as its -records exist.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Mr. Harris was engaged to make -the necessary improvements. Painting -included more then than in these -later days of prepared material. The -painter brought his massive white -marble slab, ground his own paints, -mixed his colors, boiled his oil, calcined -his plaster, made his putty and -did scores of things that a painter of -to-day would not only never think of -doing, but would often scarcely know -how to do.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Coming from the newly built house -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>where I was born, I had seen nothing -of this kind done, and was intensely -interested. I must have persisted in -making myself very numerous, for I -was constantly reminded not to “get -in the gentleman’s way.” But I was -not to be set aside. My combined interest -and curiosity for once overcame -my timidity, and encouraged by -the mild, genial face of Mr. Harris, -I gathered the courage to walk up in -front and address him: “Will you -teach me to paint, sir?” “With pleasure, -little lady, if mama is willing, I -should very much like your assistance.” -The consent was forthcoming, -and so was a gown suited to my new -work, and I reported for duty. I -question if any ordinary apprentice -was ever more faithfully and intelligently -instructed in his first month’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>apprenticeship. I was taught how to -hold my brushes, to take care of them, -allowed to help grind my paints, -shown how to mix and blend them, -how to make putty and use it, to prepare -oils and dryings, and learned -from experience that boiling oil was -a great deal hotter than boiling water, -was taught to trim paper neatly, to -match and help to hang it, to make -the most approved paste, and even -varnished the kitchen chairs to the -entire satisfaction of my mother, -which was triumph enough for one -little girl. So interested was I, that -I never wearied of my work for a -day, and at the end of a month looked -on sadly as the utensils, brushes, buckets -and great marble slab were taken -away. There was not a room that I -had not helped to make better; there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>were no longer mysteries in paint and -paper. I knew them all, and that -work would bring callouses even on -little hands.</p> - -<p class='c006'>When the work was finished and -everything gone, I went to my room, -lonesome in spite of myself. I found -on my candle stand a box containing -a pretty little locket, neatly inscribed, -“To a faithful worker.” No one -seemed to have any knowledge of it, -and I never gained any.</p> - -<p class='c009'>The new home presented a phase of -life quite unfamiliar to me. From -never having had any playmates, I now -found myself one of a very lively body -of six—three boys and three girls -nearer of an age than would have -been probable in the same family. My -father had taken charge of the young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>son of a friend—Lovett Stimpson—a -fine, robust, intelligent lad of about -my age, who lived with us.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It would be difficult to describe -what this new life, for the time it continued, -became to me, or indeed I to -it. As I look back upon it I realize -that we were a group of good children -with honorable instincts, obedient -and kindly disposed. In later -years none of us could recall a serious -difference of any kind, no cruelty and -no broken faith. It took just six, and -no more, to keep a secret. But this portrayal -of characteristics gives no clue -to, indeed casts no shadow, of what -we were capable of accomplishing in -a day. The territorial domain comprised -something over three hundred -acres. We knew it all. From “Peakèd -Hill,” to “Jim Brown’s”—across the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>“Flowed Swamp,” three miles, we -knew every rod of it. Old “Rocky -Hills,” so high, so steep, so thickly -wooded that a horse would never attempt -them, were no strangers. We -knew where the best chestnuts were. -We explored the “Devil’s Den,” in -spite of the tradition that it was an -abode for the tempters of Eve. The -“French River,” that later carried all -the factories of North Oxford, spread -itself out in lazy rest, after its rugged -leaps, as it meandered through the -broad, beautiful meadows and interval -land, the pride of the farm.</p> - -<p class='c006'>A long hewn log or pole stretched -across it in its narrowest, deepest -place. I would not dare to -say how long, but it could not have -been more than fourteen inches wide, -and swayed and teetered from the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>moment the foot touched till it left it. -The waters glided still and black beneath. -It was there as a convenience -for the working men in crossing from -one field to another; but if ever a -week day passed that we did not cross -it several times, we knew one duty -had been neglected. The only sawmill -in that section of the town was -a part of my father’s possessions. The -great up-and-down saw cut its angry -way through the primeval forest -giants from morning till night, and -not unfrequently from night till -morning. The long saw-carriage -ran far out over the raceway at the -rear end. How were we to withstand -the temptation of riding out over the -rushing mill stream twenty feet below, -and then coming quickly in as the -sawn log was drawn back for another -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>cut? Hurt? Never one of us. Killed? -We knew not such a thing could be.</p> - -<p class='c006'>There were three temptingly great -barns, scattered between the house -premises and the interval. Was there -ever a better opportunity for hide-and-seek, -for climbing and jumping? It -would have been no athlete at all that -couldn’t jump from the great beams -to the hay, in scant summer time before -the new hay came in, and land -on the feet safely. There was, and -still is, directly in front of the house, -a small, circular, natural pond, fed by -springs in the bottom and surrounded -by a cordon of hills forming a basin -in which the little pond basks and -sleeps through the summer, but in -winter becomes a thing of beauty and -a joy forever to the skater. From its -sheltered position it freezes smooth, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>even, and glare, and has no danger -spots. I dwell upon this description, -for that little pond was my early love; -the home of my beautiful flock of -graceful ducks. The boys were all -fine skaters; I wanted to skate, too, -but skating had not then become customary, -in fact, not even allowable for -girls; and when, one day, my father -saw me sitting on the ice attempting -to put on a pair of skates, he seemed -shocked, recommended me to the -house, and said something about “tomboys.” -But this did not cure my desire; -nor could I understand why it -was not as well for me to skate as for -the boys; I was as strong, could run -as fast and ride better, indeed they -would not have presumed to approach -me with a horse. Neither could the -boys understand it, and this misconception -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>led them into an error and me -into trouble.</p> - -<p class='c006'>One clear, cold, starlight Sunday -morning, I heard a low whistle under -my open chamber window. I realized -that the boys were out for a skate -and wanted to communicate with me. -On going to the window, they informed -me that they had an extra pair -of skates and if I could come out they -would put them on me and “learn” -me how to skate. It was Sunday -morning; no one would be up till late, -and the ice was so smooth and “glare.” -The stars were bright, the temptation -was too great. I was in my dress in -a moment and out. The skates were -fastened on firmly, one of the boy’s -wool neck “comforters” tied about my -waist, to be held by the boy in front. -The other two were to stand on either -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>side, and at a signal the cavalcade -started. Swifter and swifter we -went, until at length we reached a -spot where the ice had been cracked -and was full of sharp edges. These -threw me, and the speed with which -we were progressing, and the distance -before we could quite come to -a stop, gave terrific opportunity for -cuts and wounded knees. The opportunity -was not lost. There was more -blood flowing than any of us had ever -seen. Something must be done. -Now all of the wool neck comforters -came into requisition; my wounds -were bound up, and I was helped into -the house, with one knee of ordinary -respectable cuts and bruises; the other -frightful. Then the enormity of the -transaction and its attendant difficulties -began to present themselves, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>how to surround (for there was no -possibility of overcoming them), was -the question.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The most feasible way seemed to be -to say nothing about it, and we decided -to all keep silent; but how to -conceal the limp? I must have no -limp, but walk well. I managed -breakfast without notice. Dinner not -quite so well, and I had to acknowledge -that I had slipped down and hurt -my knee a little. This gave my limp -more latitude, but the next day it was -so decided, that I was held up and -searched. It happened that the best -knee was inspected; the stiff wool -comforter soaked off, and a suitable -dressing given it. This was a great -relief, as it afforded pretext for my -limp, no one observing that I limped -with the wrong knee.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>But the other knee was not a wound -to heal by first intention, especially under -its peculiar dressing, and finally -had to be revealed. The result was a -surgical dressing and my foot held up -in a chair for three weeks, during -which time I read the “Arabian -Nights” from end to end. As the -first dressing was finished, I heard the -surgeon say to my father: “that was -a hard case, Captain, but she stood it -like a soldier.” But when I saw how -genuinely they all pitied, and how tenderly -they nursed me, even walking -lightly about the house not to jar my -swollen and fevered limbs, in spite of -my disobedience and detestable deception -(and persevered in at that), my -Sabbath breaking and unbecoming -conduct, and all the trouble I had -caused, conscience revived, and my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>mental suffering far exceeded my -physical. The Arabian Nights were -none too powerful a soporific to hold -me in reasonable bounds. I despised -myself and failed to sleep or eat.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My mother, perceiving my remorseful -condition, came to the rescue, -telling me soothingly, that she -did not think it the worst thing that -could have been done, that other little -girls had probably done as badly, and -strengthened her conclusions by telling -me how she once persisted in riding -a high mettled unbroken horse in -opposition to her father’s commands, -and was thrown. My supposition is -that she had been a worthy mother of -her equestrian son.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The lesson was not lost on any of -the group. It is very certain that -none of us, boys or girls, indulged in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>further smart tricks. Twenty-five -years later, when on a visit to the old -home, long left, I saw my father, then -a grey-haired grandsire, out on the -same little pond, fitting the skates -carefully to the feet of his little -twin granddaughters, holding them -up to make their first start in safety, -I remembered my wounded knees, -and blessed the great Father that -progress and change were among the -possibilities of His people.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I never learned to skate. When it -became fashionable I had neither time -nor opportunity.</p> - -<p class='c009'>Along these lines I recall another -disappointment, which, though not vital, -was still indicative of the times. -During the following winter a dancing -school was opened in the hall of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>the one hotel on Oxford Plain, some -three miles from us. It was taught -by a personal friend of my father, a -polished gentleman, resident of a -neighboring town, and teacher of English -schools. By some chance I got a -glimpse of the dancing school at the -opening, and was seized with a most -intense desire to go and learn to -dance. With my peculiar characteristics -it was necessary for me to want -a thing very much before mentioning -it; but this overcame me, especially -as the cordial teacher took tea -with us one evening before going -to his school, and spoke very interestingly -of his classes. I even -went so far as to beg permission -to go. The dance was in my very -feet. The violin haunted me. “Ladies -change” and “all hands round” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>sounded in my ears and woke me from -my sleep at night.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The matter was taken up in family -council. I was thought to be -very young to be allowed to go to a -dancing school in a hotel. Dancing -at that time was at a very low ebb in -good New England society, and besides, -there was an active revival taking -place in both of the orthodox -churches (or rather one a church -and the other a society without a -church), and it might not be a wise, -nor even a courteous, thing to allow. -Not that our family, with its well -known liberal proclivities, could have -the slightest objection on that score; -still, like St. Paul, if meat were harmful -to their brethren they would not -eat it, and thus it was decided that -I could not go. The decision was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>perfectly conscientious, kindness itself, -and probably wise; but I have -wondered if they could have known -(as they never did) how severe the -disappointment was, the tears it cost -me in my little bed in the dark, the -music and the master’s voice still -sounding in my ears, if this knowledge -would have weighed in the decision.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I have listened to a great deal of -music since then, interspersed with -very positive orders, and which generally -called for “all hands round” but -the dulcet notes of the violin and the -“ladies change” were missing. Neither -did I ever learn to dance.</p> - -<p class='c009'>From the peculiar gifts that were -wont to be made me in those days, I -am led to infer that my peculiarities -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>in the direction of the dumb animal -part of creation, were decidedly noticeable. -On one occasion an English -gentleman, a friend of the family, -and, like my father, a promoter of -fine stock, had been paying us a visit, -and upon returning to his home, near -Boston, sent to me a beautifully soft, -wool-wadded basket containing two -and a half dozens of fine, large duck’s -eggs. It was not difficult to find -among the numerous feathered inhabitants -of the barns, three domestically -inclined, motherly hens, willing to -take charge of the big tinted eggs, albeit -not their own, giving to them the -strictest attention. The result was, -that within four weeks, the shallow -end of the little pond was covered -with tiny balls of yellow down floating -calmly and majestically on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>water—darting rapidly this way and -that, for every fly or bug so unfortunate -as to appear, while the shore presented -the scene of three of the most -distracted mothers that imagination -can picture. There was nothing majestic -nor calm in their motions, and -the tones which called the recreant -broods were far from soothing; but -like the mothers of other wayward, -unnatural offspring, the lesson of submission -was theirs to learn; and -through resignation at length came -peace.</p> - -<p class='c006'>In the course of two or three years -my flock of ducks became so numerous -as to attract the attention of the -wild ducks, passing over from the -northern lakes to the southern bays, -and it was no uncommon thing for -an entire flock, wearied with a long -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>journey, to alight for a few days’ rest. -My tame ducks learned athletics from -these native divers and dippers, and -the scene became at times not only interesting, -but inspiring and instructive.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It is very evident to me, as I remember -it, that my aspirations were -by no means satisfied with an interest -in these small specimens, such as -ducks, hens, turkeys, geese, dogs, -cats, etc., of which I had no lack. This -not including canaries, of which I received -from time to time a number as -gifts; but I had no pleasure in them, -and although doubtless the most inhuman -thing that could have been -done, I invariably opened the cage -door and let them out.</p> - -<p class='c006'>But all that farm land, the three -great barns and accompanying yards, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>called for cattle. A small herd of -twenty-five fine milch cows came -faithfully home each day with the -lowering of the sun, for the milking -and extra supper which they knew -awaited them. With the customary -greed of childhood I had laid claim to -three or four of the handsomest and -tamest of them, and believing myself -to be their real owner, I went -faithfully every evening to the yards -to receive and look after them. My -little milk pail went as well, and I -became proficient in an art never forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c006'>One afternoon, on going to the barn -as usual, I found no cows there; all -had been driven somewhere else. As -I stood in the corner of the great yard -alone, I saw three or four men—the -farm hands—with one stranger among -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>them wearing a long, loose shirt or -gown. They were all trying to get -a large red ox onto the barn floor, to -which he went very reluctantly. At -length they succeeded. One of the -men carried an axe, and stepping a -little to the side and back, raised it -high in the air and brought it down -with a terrible blow. The ox fell, I -fell too; and the next I knew I was -in the house on a bed, and all the -family about me, with the traditional -camphor bottle, bathing my head to -my great discomfort. As I regained -consciousness they asked me what -made me fall? I said “some one -struck me.” “Oh, no,” they said, “no -one struck you,” but I was not to be -convinced and proceeded to argue the -case with an impatient putting away -of the hurting hands, “then what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>makes my head so sore?” Happy ignorance! -I had not then learned the -mystery of nerves.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I have, however, a very clear recollection -of the indignation of my father -(my mother had already expressed -herself on the subject), on his return -from town and hearing what had -taken place. The hired men were -lined up and arraigned for “cruel -carelessness.” They had “the consideration -to keep the cattle away,” he -said, “but allowed that little girl to -stand in full view.” Of course, each -protested he had not seen me. I was -altogether too friendly with the farm -hands to hear them blamed, especially -on my account, and came promptly to -their side, assuring my father that -they had not seen me, and that it was -“no matter,” I was “all well now.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>But, singularly, I lost all desire for -meat, if I had ever had it—and all -through life to the present, have only -eaten it when I must for the sake of -appearance, or as circumstances -seemed to make it the more proper -thing to do. The bountiful ground -has always yielded enough for all -my needs and wants.</p> - -<p class='c009'>I had been eleven years old the -Christmas before. Great changes -had taken place during the two or -three preceding years. My energetic -brothers had outgrown farming, sold -their two farms on the hill, and come -down and bought of my father all his -water power on the French River, as -well as all obtainable timber land in -the vicinity. The staunch old up-and-down -saw still stood in its majesty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>for the handling of the forest giants -too massive for a lesser power, but it -was surrounded by a cordon of belted -“circulars,” whirling with a speed -that quite obscured their motion, -screaming, screeching and throwing -out the product of their work in all -directions; shingles, laths, thin boards, -bolters and slitters. New dams had -been thrown across the shifty, flighty -stream, to be swept away in the torrents -of the spring freshets and floating -ice, but replaced at once with -an obstinate manliness and enterprise -that scarcely admitted of an interruption -in the work.</p> - -<p class='c006'>In a new building along the side of -the dam, the great burr-stones of that -date ground out the wholesome grain -of all the surrounding country, and -where I had first seen it under the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>control of the one lone sawyer, now -fifty of the strongest working men -that could be procured, and great -four-horse teams covered the once -quiet mill-yard. The entire line of -factories above had caught the inspiration, -and the French River villages -of North Oxford were models -of growth and activity.</p> - -<p class='c006'>One sister had married and settled -in her home near by, and a wife had -come into my eldest brother’s home. -Mrs. Larned, the widow to whose assistance -my father had gone in her -early desolation, had found her children -now so well grown as to make it -advisable to remove to one of the factory -villages, where she became a -popular boarding house keeper, and -her children operatives in the mill.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Thus, I was again left to myself. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>The schools were not the best, but all -that could be done for me, in or out -of them, was done. I had been especially -well taught to sew and liked -it, but knitting was beyond me. I -could not be held to it, and it was -given up.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Through the confirmed invalidism -of my elder sister, Dorothea, I lost -her beautiful guidance, but the watchful -care of my younger sister, now -Mrs. Vassall, was truly pathetic. She -never lost sight of my welfare, and -her fine literary taste was a constant -inspiration.</p> - -<p class='c009'>While thus in the midst of my various -pursuits and vocations, an accidental -turn in my wheel of fortune -changed my entire course (for a time -at least) and how much bearing, if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>any, it may have had on the future, -I have never been able to determine. -I have spoken of the younger of my -two brothers, of the firm of S. & -D. Barton, as a fine horseman. He -was more than that. In these days -he would have been an athlete. The -two men were but two years apart in -age, of fine disposition and excellent -physical strength, integrity and courage; -of fine disposition and equable -temper; yet neither of them men with -whom an opponent would carelessly -or tauntingly covet an encounter. The -younger, David, from his physical activity -and daring, was always selected -for any feat of danger to be performed.</p> - -<p class='c006'>These were days when even buildings -were “raised by hand.” All the -neighborhood was expected to participate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>in a “raising.” Upon one occasion, -an uncommonly large barn, -with what was then still more uncommon, -a cellar beneath, was to be raised. -The rafters must be affixed to the ridgepole, -and David Barton was assigned -to this duty. While in its performance, -a timber on which he was standing, -having been weakened by an unobserved -knot, suddenly gave way, -and he fell directly to the first floor, -striking on his feet on another timber -near the bottom of the cellar. Without -falling he leaped to the ground, and -after a few breathless minutes declared -himself unhurt, but was not -permitted to return aloft. It was -spoken of as a “remarkable adventure,” -“a wonderful escape,” etc., and -for a few days all went well, with the -exception of a slight and quite unaccustomed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>headache, which continued -to increase as the July weather progressed. -At length he showed symptoms -of fever; the family physician -was called, and here commenced a -system of medical treatment quite unknown -to our physicians of the present -day, other than as results of historical -research and milestones of -scientific advancement.</p> - -<p class='c006'>He was pronounced in a “settled -fever,” which must not be “broken -up,” and could only be held in check -by reducing the strength of the patient. -He had “too much blood,” -was “too vigorous,” “just the patient -for a fever to ‘go hard with,’” it was -said. Accordingly, the blood was -taken from time to time, as long as -it seemed safe to do so. The terrible -pain in the head continued and blisters -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>were applied to all possible places, -in the hope of withdrawing the pain. -Sleepless, restless, in agony both -physical and mental, his case grew -desperate. He had been my ideal -from earliest memory. I was distressed -beyond measure at his condition. -I had been his little protégée, -his companion, and in his nervous -wretchedness he clung to me. Thus, -from the first days and nights of illness, -I remained near his side. The -fever ran on and over all the traditional -turning points, seven, fourteen, -twenty-one days. I could not be taken -away from him except by compulsion, -and he was unhappy until my return. -I learned to take all directions for his -medicines from his physician (who -had eminent counsel) and to administer -them like a genuine nurse.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>My little hands became schooled to -the handling of the great, loathsome, -crawling leeches which were at first -so many snakes to me, and no fingers -could so painlessly dress the angry -blisters; and thus it came about, that -I was the accepted and acknowledged -nurse of a man almost too ill to recover.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Finally, as the summer passed, the -fever gave way, and for a wonder the -patient did not. No physician will -doubt that I had given him poison -enough to have killed him many times -over, if suitably administered with -that view. He will also understand -the condition in which the patient was -left. They had certainly succeeded in -reducing his strength.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Late in the autumn he stood on his -feet for the first time since July. Still -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>sleepless, nervous, cold, dyspeptic—a -mere wreck of his former self. None -were so disturbed over his condition -as his kind-hearted, and for those -days, skillful physicians, who had exhausted -their knowledge and poured -out their sympathy and care like water, -on the patient who, for his manliness -and bravery, they had come to -respect, and for his suffering learned -to love with a parent’s tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It now became a matter of time. -Councils of physicians for twenty -miles around sat in judgment on the -case. They could only recommend; -and more blisters, setons and various -methods of external irritation for the -withdrawal of internal pain followed, -from month to month and season to -season. All these were my preferred -care.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>I realize now how carefully and -apprehensively the whole family -watched the little nurse, but I had no -idea of it then. I thought my position -the most natural thing in the -world; I almost forgot that there was -an outside to the house.</p> - -<p class='c006'>This state of things continued with -little change—a trifling gain of -strength in my patient at times—for -two years, when, entirely unexpected, -the most tabooed and little known of -all medical treatments, restored him -to health. It is to be remembered at -that date there was no homeopathy, -no hydropathy, no sanitariums, no -Christian Science, nothing but the -regular school of allopathic medicine. -Medical practitioners, baffled by lack -of science, surrounded by ignorance -on all such subjects and more or less -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>of superstition, struggled manfully on -toward the blessed light of the scientific -knowledge of to-day, which they -have so richly attained.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It was not to be wondered at that -the slightest departure from the beaten -track, under these conditions, was -held as unpardonable and punishable -quackery; and that the first “ism” that -broke through the defense fought the -fight of a forlorn hope. There are -young physicians of good historical -knowledge to-day, who have never -learned that “Thompsonianism” was -that “ism”; that Dr. Samuel Thompson -fought that fight, and that they are -pursuing many excellent methods -which are the result of his thought; -that it was he who first advanced the -theory (in this country at least,) that -fever was not the foe, but the friend -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>of the patient; that it was simply unequal -animal warmth and vigor—that -people did not have too much blood -any more than they had too much -bone, and could as ill afford to lose -it; that if the blood were too thick, -or too thin, or of a bad quality, taking -away a portion of it would not -rectify or purify the remainder. That -a blister was not likely to soothe a -nervous patient to sleep, or to extract -a pain, save by creating a greater. But -that a better way to treat disturbances -was to open the pores generally, by a -vapor bath—designated “Thompson’s -Steam Box,” and greatly to be feared. -He and his few followers were -known as “Steam Doctors”—and the -public warned against them.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It happened that one of his disciples, -a “Steam Doctor,” residing in a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>neighboring town (I will write his -name in grateful remembrance—Dr. -Asa McCullum), had watched this remarkable -case with interest and pity, -convinced that the right remedies had -not reached it.</p> - -<p class='c006'>He ventured at length to approach -my father on the subject; then my -brother, who was willing to attempt -anything short of suicide. The result -was the removal of the patient to the -home asylum of the doctor for treatment. -In three weeks he was so far -restored as to return home and take -his place in his business, like one come -back from the dead. I remember the -greetings—the tears of gladness on -the blessed face of our family physician -when he came to welcome him -home: “And so, David, something -good has come out of Nazareth.”</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>I was again free; my occupation -gone. Life seemed very strange and -idle to me. I wondered that my -father took me to ride so much, and -that my mother hoped she could make -me some new clothes now, for in the -two years I had not grown an inch, -had been to school one-half day, and -had gained one pound in weight.</p> - -<p class='c006'>This singular mode of life, at so -young an age, could not have been -without its characteristic effects. In -some respects it had served to heighten -serious defects. The seclusion had -increased the troublesome bashfulness. -I had grown even more timid, shrinking -and sensitive in the presence of -others; absurdly careful and methodical -for a child; afraid of giving -trouble by letting my wants be known, -thereby giving the very pain I sought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>to avoid, and instead of feeling that -my freedom gave me time for recreation -or play, it seemed to me like time -wasted, and I looked anxiously about -for some useful occupation.</p> - -<p class='c006'>As usual, my blessed sister, Mrs. -Vassall, came to the rescue. Taking -advantage of an all-absorbing love of -poetry (which I always had) she made -a weapon of it by providing me with -the poetical works of Walter Scott, -which I had not read, and proposed -that we read them together. We naturally -commenced with “The Lady of -the Lake.” I was immediately transported -to the Highlands and the -Bonny Braes, plucking the heather -and broom and guiding the skiff -across Loch Katrine, listening to the -sweet warning song of poor crazed -Blanche of Devon, thrilling with, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>“Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu,” and -trudging along with the old minstrel -and Ellen to Sterling tower and the -Court of Fitz-James. “Marmion” followed, -and then all the train of English -poetry that a child could take in.</p> - -<p class='c009'>My second individual ownership -was “Billy.” His personality (which I -never questioned), was represented by -a high stepping brown Morgan horse, -with glossy coat, slim legs, pointed -ears, long curly black mane and tail, -and weighing nearly nine hundred -pounds.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Although a good driver, his forte -was the saddle. His gait (or rather, I -should say, gaits) was first a delightful -single-foot; but which he had the -faculty of changing to a rack, or pace -or trot, as occasion or haste seemed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>to call for; and as a last resort, he -could cover them all by something one -does not like to name; but we only -used that gait on extraordinary occasions. -My father had purchased and -given Billy to me when about ten -years old. The same figures will do -for us both.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I had three or four neighboring girl -associates who also had their own or -family horses, and our riding parties -were the events of the season. Anticipating -the deep, forbidding snows -of the winter in New England, we -had the custom of celebrating -Thanksgiving day by a final party -for the season. Even this was -cold and had often some traces -of snow.</p> - -<p class='c006'>On the present occasion there were -but three of us, Martha, Eveline and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>myself. Martha had a fine sorrel -trotter, Eveline a spirited single-footer. -The day was cold and threatening. -Our ride was to Worcester, -some ten miles. When about three -miles from home, on our return, a -blinding snowstorm set in, literally -a gale. This either frightened or excited -Eveline’s horse, which, mastering -the situation by a quick toss of the -head, and catch of the bit (a trick he -evidently understood), dropped his -single-foot as something adapted to -ladies and little girls, and fell to using -all the feet he had, the best he -knew. Awed by her peril, but powerless -to aid, we could only follow our -fleeing comrade to be ready to help -when she should fall, as we were sure -she must. The gale mercilessly increased; -so did our speed. We kept -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>nearly alongside, every horse upon -the “dead run.”</p> - -<p class='c006'>We must have presented a striking -miniature picture of the veritable -“Three Furies” on a rampage. A -country road and no one passing. -Martha and myself each rushing directly -past our own homes unobserved -in the storm, till at length we rounded -the curve that brought the flying horse -in sight of his own stable. They had -sighted the coming cavalcade. The -gates were thrown wide open, and a -man stationed on either side to catch -both horse and rider when they should -enter.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Seeing the worn-out girl once safely -in her father’s arms, we turned away, -with an entirely new chapter added to -our very limited stock of equestrian -knowledge. We were all alive and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>unharmed, and I alone am here now to -tell the little stories of childhood’s terrifying -dangers and miraculous escapes.</p> - -<p class='c009'>We were midway between the two -district schools, a long mile and a half -from either, and it frequently chanced -that a season or two of indifferent -schools followed each other in train. -The experiment of sending me away -to school was not to be repeated, and -accordingly I was undertaken at -home. My mathematical brother, Stephen, -took charge of that department, -and Mrs. Vassall the other needful -studies, while my former patient, -brother David, the equestrian of early -days, now grown strong and well, -kept to his rule of practical teaching. -I recall vividly the half impatient -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>frown on his fine face when he would -see me do an awkward thing, however -trivial. He detested false motions; -wanted the thing done rightly the -first time. If I started to go somewhere, -go, and not turn back; if to -do something, do it. I must throw a -ball or a stone with an under swing -like a boy and not a girl, and must -make it go where I sent it, and not -fall at my feet and foolishly laugh at -it. If I would drive a nail, strike it -fairly on the head every time, and not -split the board. If I would draw a -screw, turn it right the first time. I -must tie a square knot that would hold, -and not tie my horse with a slip noose -and leave him to choke himself. These -were little things, still a part of the -instructions not to be undervalued. In -the rather practical life which has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>sometimes fallen to me, I have wondered -if they were not among the most -useful, and if that handsome frown -were not one of my best lessons.</p> - -<p class='c006'>At length there came a school that -could be utilized, and my family instructors -were relieved. The school -to the north of us was undertaken by -Mr. Lucian Burleigh, a younger member -of the noted Burleigh family, and -brother of William H. Burleigh, the -poet. It seemed very strange to me -to be in school again. I had been so -long accustomed to govern myself, in -a manner, that I wondered how any -one should need others to govern -them. If scholars came there to -learn, why should they try, or want, -to do anything else? There is no -doubt that I seemed equally unaccountable -and prudish to them.</p> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_096.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>MR. JONATHAN DANA,<br /><br />MY OXFORD TEACHER.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>The quick perceptions of the teacher -at once comprehended the conditions, -and he treated me with the -greatest consideration and kindness; -advising such changes and additions -as seemed suitable, and most in accord -with the studies I had taken with -me; even, as I could later see, forming -some new classes in branches outside -of the customary routine of the public -school; as elementary astronomy, -ancient history, and the “Science of -Language”; his own literary and -scholarly tastes pointing significantly -to the latter. If Milton’s “Paradise -Lost,” and Pollok’s “Course of Time” -were ever dissected, transposed, analyzed -and “parsed” by any class of -vigilant youths, it was then and there.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The winter passed all too soon. A -mile and a half through the snow had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>been only a pleasure. Our faithful, -brotherly teacher left us, never to return; -but the still brotherly friendship -between teacher and pupil remained -unbroken until his summons came.</p> - -<p class='c006'>After a busy summer a similarly -good fortune awaited me in the next -winter term of school. Mr. Jonathan -Dana, one of Oxford’s most scholarly -men and a teacher of note, commenced -the winter school to the south -of us. I have no words to describe -the value of his instruction, nor the -pains he took with his eager pupil. I -had been far too thoroughly drilled -to require time for the customary -classes of the public school, but did -require instruction in branches forbidden -in their lawful curriculum.</p> - -<p class='c006'>In spite of the labor of a school of -sixty pupils of all ages, with no assistant, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>I was permitted to take philosophy, -chemistry and elementary -Latin—all to be taught outside of -school hours. With no laboratory at -hand, I have often marveled at the -amount of experimental instruction -he found it possible to give me. So -generally appreciated was the excellence -of the school that the term was -continued beyond the customary three -months. My grateful homage for my -inestimable teacher and his interest in -his early pupil, became memories of a -lifetime, and the social acquaintance -was never interrupted until the late -summons came to him, white haired -and venerable, to go up higher.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My family were all gratified by my -progress and my deportment as a -student, but I was still diffident, timid, -non-committal, afraid of giving -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>trouble and difficult to understand. -My physical growth had not met -their expectations nor their hopes. I -grew slowly and was still a “little -girl” in appearance. This went to -show how positive the early check -had been, and how slowly the repairs -were made, for it was said that I -gained an inch in height between the -ages of twenty and twenty-one.</p> - -<p class='c009'>The firm of my brothers, S. & D. -Barton, had added to their ever increasing -business the manufacture of -cloth. A factory had been erected -and a partnership entered into with -Messrs. Paul and Samuel Parsons, -two elegant gentlemen among the -earlier manufacturers of satinet in -this country, and the new factory was -known as “The Satinet Mill of North -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Oxford.” A very superior article of -cloth was made, the operatives almost -entirely American, and very largely -from families of the neighborhood or -surrounding country. Occupations -for women were few in those days, -and often the school and music teacher, -weary of the monotonous life, -sought change in the more remunerative -loom of the factory. I name this -as a matter of history, as the North -Oxford Mills were the third, if not -the second after Slater, who produced -the first spindle and power looms in -America, at the risk of his life.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I had been taken through the new -factory by my brother; had seen these -young persons at work; watched the -shuttles fly under the deft fingers of -the weavers, and felt that there was -something I could do. There was no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>school, I was idle. After a little -quiet reflection I astonished the family -by announcing my desire to go -into the mill. I wanted to weave -cloth. At first they tried laughing at -me. I was too sensitive to be dealt -with in that way. Then reasoning. -I was “too small”; it was not a proper -thing for me to do. But I was not -easily dissuaded. One day in the -midst of a family council, my brother -Stephen chanced to call. He listened -attentively, saw that I was anxious -and troubled, and was giving trouble -to others as well. At length he spoke. -Addressing my mother, he said: “I -do not see anything so very much out -of the way in the request. I wonder if -we are not drawing the lines too -tightly on our little sister? A few -years ago she wanted to learn to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>dance; this was denied as frivolous -and improper; now she asks to work. -She took up a work by herself and -did it two years, a work that no child -would be expected to do, and did it -well. She is certainly a properly behaved -little girl, and I cannot understand -why we should trouble ourselves -or her so much concerning the -proprieties of her life. For my part, -I am very willing to arrange a pair -of looms for her and let her try.” A -hush fell on the group. My anxious -mother seemed relieved. The big -brother had spoken. I crept shyly up -under his stalwart arm and kissed his -bearded cheek.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The next day a low platform was -run along in front of a pair of new, -glossy looms, just by the desk of the -overseer of the room. A good weaver -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>was given charge to instruct me, and -when I stepped upon that platform -and looked down upon the evenly -drawn warp and the swiftly flying -shuttles, and felt that they were mine, -I imagine the sensation was akin to -that of a young queen whose foot first -presses the throne. I was too carefully -watched to permit a mistake, -and too interested to be tired. Before -the end of the week I was able to discharge -my instructress, or it is more -probable she discharged herself in -view of my self-sufficiency. I could -scarcely wait in the morning for the -bell to call me, early as it would be, -and I walked up that long, outside -flight of black, greasy stairs and entered -that whirring, clashing room -with as much pride and satisfaction -as I would have entered the finest and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>most highly embellished schoolroom. -I observed that the help all looked -at me as I went in, and McDonald, the -overseer, always raised his Scotch cap -a bit by the tassel, or touched his finger -to the rim, fitting so closely to -his high forehead. I thought I ought -to make some acknowledgement of -this, and always did so, but could not -understand it. I told my mother -about it and asked her what he did -it for? She said that it was probably -because I was “so little.” That perhaps -if I were as large as the other -girls he might not do it. I thought -this a reasonable solution and was satisfied.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I finished my first week, commenced -my second, and went through with no -assistance. On Saturday my webs -were cut from the looms, examined -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>and pronounced of first quality, showing -great care. I took my proud record -home. The next day (Sunday), -Mr. Samuel Parsons, with the prudent -care that could not trust even the -watchman too implicitly, went into the -mill by himself, ascending to the -picker room in the top story, where -the light, oiled wool was piled in -great quantities. He casually placed -his hand upon it in passing, and observing -that it felt warm, he plunged -his arm in to lift it. The flames enveloped -him. He ran at full speed -the length of the building to the bell -rope. The fire was there almost before -him. He gave two strokes, when -the flames drove him from the room; -they licked down the air shafts and -belt holes, lapping up the oil like so -much food, as it was.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>The perfection of the magnificent -fire departments of the present day -was far in the future then. In three -hours it was all over, and the new -North Oxford Satinet Mills were a -smoking pile of rubbish, a thing of -the past. No heart was heavier than -mine. The strong, energetic brothers -knew that rebuilding would commence -at once, but I mourned without hope.</p> - -<p class='c006'>If ever there were lost or omitted -a well-turned joke or a bit of humor -by the various members of the Barton -family it was clearly an accident, -no such omission being ever intended; -and thus it was suggested to me, that, -as the fire was manifestly a case of -spontaneous combustion, could it have -been that I worked so fast that the -friction set the mill on fire? That -joke on me lasted many years. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>mill was rebuilt, as well as several -others, some to be burned, some to be -sold; but I had found other occupations -more congenial to the other -members of the household, it is to be -hoped, if not to me.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The recital of this incident by myself, -or some one else, has given rise -to the bit of romance cropping out occasionally, -in the sketches one sees, -that I was a factory girl and earned -the money to pay off the mortgage on -my father’s farm. I wish the first -statement might have been true. Nothing -to-day would gratify me more -than to know that I had been one of -those self-reliant, intelligent, American-born -girls like our sweet poetess, -Lucy Larcom, and like her had stood -before the power looms in the early -progress of the manufactories of our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>great and matchless country. I fear -that my plain, simple facts will rob -many a fancy sketch of its brightest -tints, as in this instance. I am compelled -to confess in regard to the second -statement, that my father never -had a mortgage that I knew of, and, -therefore, had no need of my brave -help. On the other hand, he had -something to give to me.</p> - -<p class='c009'>I think it usually occurs in small -communities that there is one family, -or one house, to which all strangers -or new comers naturally gravitate. -Nothing was plainer than that ours -was that house. All lecturers, upon -any subject, clergymen on trial, whoever -had a new idea to expound and -was in need of an abiding place meanwhile, -found one there. My father’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>active and liberal mind inclined him -to examination and toleration, and his -cordial hospitality was seconded by -my mother’s welcome to any one who -could bring new thought or culture to -herself or her family.</p> - -<p class='c006'>These were the very earliest days of -phrenology. The famous brothers, -O. S. and L. N. Fowler, worthy disciples -of Spurzheim and Coombe, -were commencing their lifelong -work. Young men of advanced ideas, -thought, energy and purpose.</p> - -<p class='c006'>The “Phrenological Journal,” if -existing at all, was in its infancy. The -Fowler brothers were among the -most interesting and popular lecturers -in the country. Two courses of -lectures by L. N. Fowler were arranged -for our town; one for North -and the other for South Oxford, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>“Oxford Plain,” as it is better known. -He very naturally became the guest -of my father and mother.</p> - -<p class='c006'>These two courses of lectures covered -nearly a month of time. How -can the value of the results of that -month, extending through a lifetime, -be put into words? How measure the -worth of the ideas, the knowledge of -one’s self, and of others, growing out -of it? Aside from this was his aid -and comfort to my mother in her perplexity -concerning her incomprehensible -child. I recall the long, earnest -talks, in which it was evident that I -was the prime subject, although not -clearly realizing it at the time. Upon -one occasion there was no question. -I was ill (of mumps, I believe) and to -avoid loneliness was permitted to lie -on the lounge in the large sitting room -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>through the day. Forgetting my -presence, or believing me asleep, the -conversation went on in my hearing, -portions of which at this late day I -recall. My mother remarked that -none of her children had ever been so -difficult to manage. “Was I disobedient, -exacting or wayward?” asked -Mr. Fowler. Oh no! she often -wished I were, she would then know -what to do, for I would make my -wants known, and they could be supplied. -But I was so timid and afraid -of making trouble that they were in -constant fear of neglecting me; I -would do without the most needed article -rather than ask for it, and my -bashfulness increased rather than diminished -as I grew older. As an illustration, -she stated that only last Sunday -the child appeared with bare -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>hands when we were ready for church. -Upon being asked where were her -gloves, she reluctantly replied that she -“had none. They were worn out.” -Upon being asked why she had not -said so and asked for others, the reply -was a burst of tears and an attempt to -leave the room. “We would not permit -this unhappy day at home alone, -and took her as she was,” said my -mother. All this sounded very badly -to me as I heard it rehearsed. It was -all true, all wrong; would I, could I -ever learn to do better?</p> - -<p class='c006'>Mr. Fowler replied that these characteristics -were all indicated; that, -however much her friends might suffer -from them, she would always suffer -more. “They may be apparently -outgrown, but the sensitive nature -will always remain. She will never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>assert herself for herself—she will suffer -wrong first—but for others she -will be perfectly fearless.” To my -mother’s anxious question, “what shall -I do?” he replied, “Throw responsibility -upon her. She has all the qualities -of a teacher. As soon as her age -will permit, give her a school to -teach.” I well remember how this -suggestion shocked me. I should not -have remembered all these advices, -but years after they were found with -much more among my mother’s carefully -preserved papers; some correspondence -must have followed. The -depth and faithfulness of the interest -felt, was shown in the fact that the -great reader of human character, -through his long life in foreign lands -as well as his own, never forgot the -troublesome child. Occasional correspondence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>and valued meetings -across the sea marked the milestones -of life, till one road came to an end. -A great and true man and friend of -humanity had gone, and the world -was better for his having lived in it.</p> - -<p class='c006'>At the close of the second term of -school, the advice was acted upon, and -it was arranged that I teach the -school in District No. 9. My sister -resided within the district. How well -I remember the preparations—the efforts -to look larger and older, the examination -by the learned committee -of one clergyman, one lawyer and one -justice of the peace; the certificate -with “excellent” added at the close; -the bright May morning over the -dewy, grassy road to the schoolhouse, -neither large nor new, and not a pupil -in sight.</p> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>On entering, I found my little -school of forty pupils all seated according -to their own selection, quietly -waiting with folded hands. Bright, -rosy-cheeked boys and girls from four -to thirteen, with the exception of four -lads, as tall and nearly as old as myself. -These four boys naturally looked -a little curiously at me, as if forming -an opinion of how best to dispose of -me, as rumor had it that on the preceding -summer, not being <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en rapport</span></i> -with the young lady teacher, they had -excluded her from the building and -taken possession themselves. All -arose as I entered, and remained -standing until requested to sit. Never -having observed how schools were -opened, I was compelled, as one -would say, to “blaze my own way.” -I was too timid to address them, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>holding my Bible, I said they might -take their Testaments and turn to the -Sermon on the Mount. All who -could read, read a verse each, I reading -with them in turn. This opened -the way for remarks upon the meaning -of what they had read. I found -them more ready to express themselves -than I had expected, which was -helpful to me as well. I asked them -what they supposed the Saviour meant -by saying that they must love their -enemies and do good to them that -hated and misused them? This was a -hard question, and they hesitated, until -at length a little bright-eyed girl -with great earnestness replied: “I -think He meant that you must be good -to everybody, and mustn’t quarrel nor -make nobody feel bad, and I’m going -to try.” An ominous smile crept -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>over the rather hard faces of my four -lads, but my response was so prompt, -and my approval so hearty, that it disappeared -and they listened attentively -but ventured no remarks. With this -moderate beginning the day progressed, -and night found us social, -friendly and classed for a school. -Country schools did not admit of -home dinners. I also remained. On -the second or third day an accident -on their outside field of rough play -called me to them. They had been -playing unfairly and dangerously and -needed teaching, even to play well. I -must have thought they required object -lessons, for almost imperceptibly -either to them or to myself, I joined -in the game and was playing with -them.</p> - -<p class='c006'>My four lads soon perceived that I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>was no stranger to their sports or -their tricks; that my early education -had not been neglected, and that they -were not the first boys I had seen. -When they found that I was as agile -and as strong as themselves, that my -throw was as sure and as straight as -theirs, and that if they won a game -it was because I permitted it, their -respect knew no bounds. No courtesy -within their knowledge was neglected. -Their example was sufficient -for the entire school. I have seen no -finer type of boys. They were faithful -to me in their boyhood, and in -their manhood faithful to their country. -Their blood crimsoned its hardest -fields, and the little bright-eyed -girl with the good resolve, has made -her whole life a blessing to others, -and still lives to follow the teaching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>given her. Little Emily has “made -nobody feel bad.”</p> - -<p class='c006'>My school was continued beyond -the customary length of time, -and its only hard feature was our -parting. In memory I see that pitiful -group of children sobbing their way -down the hill after the last good-bye -was said, and I was little better. We -had all been children together, and -when, in accordance with the then custom -at town meetings, the grades of -the schools were named and No. 9 -stood first for discipline, I thought it -the greatest injustice, and remonstrated, -affirming that there had been -no discipline, that not one scholar had -ever been disciplined. Child that I -was, I did not know that the surest -test of discipline is its absence.</p> - -<p class='c006'>If the published school report, so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>misunderstood by me, had given me -displeasure, it had also given me a -local reputation, quite as unexpected. -I soon found myself the recipient of -numerous invitations to teach in the -nearby towns, especially such schools -as required the “discipline” so largely -accredited to, and so little deserved, -by me.</p> - -<p class='c006'>Declination, on my part, was not -to be thought of. All members of the -family were only too grateful for the -progress I had made towards proper -self-assurance to permit any backsliding, -and it was early settled that I -accept the application of the honorable -committee, to teach the next summer -school at what was known as the -“Mill-ward” in the adjoining town of -Charlton, commencing on the first -Monday in May of the following year—a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>“master” teaching the winter -term.</p> - -<p class='c009'>One day, early in September, my -brother David, now one of the active, -popular business men of the town, -nearly took my breath away by inviting -me to accompany him on a journey -to the state of Maine, to be present -at his wedding and with him -bring back the wife who was to grace -his home and share his future life.</p> - -<p class='c006'>There was now more lengthening of -skirts, and a rush of dressmaking such -as I had never known before; and -when, two weeks later, I found myself -with my brother and a rather gay -party of ladies and gentlemen, friends -of his, at one of the most elegant hotels -in Boston (where I had never -been) waiting the arrival of a delayed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>steamer, I was so overcome by -the dread of committing some impropriety -or indiscretion which might -embarrass my brother that I begged -him to permit me to go back home. -I was not distressed about what might -be thought of <em>me</em>. I did not seem to -care much about that; but how it -might reflect upon my brother, and -the mortification that my awkwardness -could not fail to inflict on him.</p> - -<p class='c006'>I had never set foot on a vessel -or seagoing craft of any kind, and -when, in the glitter of that finely -equipped steamer, I really crossed -over a corner of the great Atlantic -ocean, the very waves of which -touched other continents as well, I -felt that my world was miraculously -widening.</p> - -<p class='c006'>It was another merry party, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>magnificent spans of horses that met -and galloped away with us over the -country to our destination.</p> - -<p class='c006'>But the crowning astonishment -came when I was informed that it was -the desire and decision of all parties, -that I act as bridesmaid. That I assist -in introducing the younger of the -guests, and stand beside the tall, handsome -young bride who was to be my -sister, while she pledged her troth to -the brother dearer to me than my own -life.</p> - -<p class='c006'>This responsibility seemed to throw -the whole world wide open to me. -How well I remember the tearful resolution -with which I pledged myself -to try to overcome my troublesome -propensities and to strive only for the -courage of the right, and for the fearlessness -of true womanhood so much -needed and earnestly desired, and so -painfully lacking.</p> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_124.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>DAVID BARTON.<br /><br />MY YOUNGER BROTHER AND RIDING MASTER.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>November found us home again. -Under the circumstances, there must -naturally be a share of social gayeties -during the winter, and some preparations -for my new school duties; and I -waited with more or less apprehension -for what would be my first life among -strangers, and the coming of my anticipated -“First of May.” With -slight variation I could have joined -truthfully in the dear old child refrain:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Then wake and call me early,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Call me early, mother dear,”</div> - <div class='line'>For that will be the veriest day</div> - <div class='line in2'>“Of all the glad New Year.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY CHILDHOOD ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fd22376..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_009.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a6ab54e..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_032.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_032.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b258691..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_032.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_037a.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_037a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0e850e..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_037a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_037b.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_037b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f5192cf..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_037b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_044.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_044.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 36ea32c..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_044.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_096.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_096.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 77d0643..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_096.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/64704-h/images/i_124.jpg b/old/64704-h/images/i_124.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8b28ba5..0000000 --- a/old/64704-h/images/i_124.jpg +++ /dev/null |
