a new england girlhood-第24部分

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She　watched　over　us；　gave　us　needed　reproof　and　commendation；　rarely　cosseted　us；　but　rather　made　us　laugh　at　what　many　would　have　considered　the　hardships　of　our　lot。　She　taught　us　not　only　to　accept　the　circumstances　in　which　we　found　ourselves；　but　to　win　from　them　courage　and　strength。　When　we　came　in　shivering　from　our　work；　through　a　snowstorm；　complaining　of　numb　hands　and　feet；　she　would　say　cheerily；　〃But　it　doesn't　make　you　any　warmer　to　say　you　are　cold；〃　and　this　was　typical　of　the　way　she　took　life　generally；　and　tried　to　have　us　take　it。　She　was　constantly　denying　herself　for　our　sakes；　without　making　us　feel　that　she　was　doing　so。　But　she　did　not　let　us　get　into　the　bad　habit　of　pitying　ourselves　because　we　were　not　as　〃well　off〃　as　many　other　children。　And　indeed　we　considered　ourselves　pleasantly　situated；　but　the　best　of　it　all　was　that　we　had　her。

Her　theories　for　herself；　and　her　practice；　too；　were　rather　severe；　but　we　tried　to　follow　them；　according　to　our　weaker　abilities。　Her　custom　was；　for　instance；　to　take　a　full　cold　bath　every　morning　before　she　went　to　her　work；　even　though　the　water　was　chiefly　broken　ice；　and　we　did　the　same　whenever　we　could　be　resolute　enough。　It　required　both　nerve　and　will　to　do　this　at　five　o'clock　on　a　zero　morning；　in　a　room　without　a　fire；　but　it　helped　us　to　harden　ourselves；　while　we　formed　a　good　habit。　The　working…day　in　winter　began　at　the　very　earliest　daylight；　and　ended　at　half…past　seven　in　the　evening。

Another　habit　of　hers　was　to　keep　always　beside　her　at　her　daily　work　something　to　study　or　to　think　about。　At　first　it　was　〃Watts　on　the　Improvement　of　the　Mind；〃　arranged　as　a　textbook；　with　questions　and　answers；　by　the　minister　of　Beverly　who　had　made　the　thought　of　the　millennium　such　a　reality　to　his　people。　She　quite　wore　this　book　out；　carrying　it　about　with　her　in　her　working…dress　pocket。　　After　that；　〃Locke　on　the　Understanding〃　was　used　in　the　same　way。　She　must　have　known　both　books　through　and　through　by　heart。　Then　she　read　Combe　and　Abercrombie；　and　discussed　their　physics　and　metaphysics　with　our　girl　boarders；　some　of　whom　had　remarkably　acute　and　well…balanced　minds。　Her　own　seemed　to　have　turned　from　its　early　bent　toward　the　romantic；　her　taste　being　now　for　serious　and　practical；　though　sometimes　abstruse；　themes。　I　remember　that　Young　and　Pollock　were　her　favorite　poets。

I　could　not　keep　up　with　her　in　her　studies　and　readings；　for　many　of　the　books　she　liked　seemed　to　me　very　dry。　I　did　not　easily　take　to　the　argumentative　or　moralizing　method；　which　I　came　to　regard　as　a　proof　of　the　weakness　of　my　own　intellect　in　comparison　with　hers。　I　would　gladly　have　kept　pace　with　her　if　I　could。　Anything　under　the　heading　of　〃Didactick；〃　like　some　of　the　pieces　in　the　old　〃English　Reader；〃　used　by　school…children　in　the　generation　just　before　ours；　always　repelled　me。　But　I　though　it　necessary　to　discipline　myself　by　reading　such　pieces；　and　my　first　attempt　at　prose　composition；　〃On　Friendship；〃　was　stiffly　modeled　after　a　certain　〃Didactick　Essay〃　in　that　same　English　Reader。

My　sister；　however；　cared　more　to　watch　the　natural　development　of　our　minds　than　to　make　us　follow　the　direction　of　hers。　She　was　really　our　teacher；　although　she　never　assumed　that　position。　Certainly　I　learned　more　from　her　about　my　own　capabilities；　and　how　I　might　put　them　to　use；　than　I　could　have　done　at　any　school　we　knew　of；　had　it　been　possible　for　me　to　attend　one。

I　think　she　was　determined　that　we　should　not　be　mentally　defrauded　by　the　circumstances　which　had　made　it　necessary　for　us　to　begin　so　early　to　win　our　daily　bread。　This　remark　applies　especially　to　me；　as　my　older　sisters　（only　two　or　three　of　them　had　come　to　Lowell）　soon　drifted　away　from　us　into　their　own　new　homes　or　occupations；　and　she　and　I　were　left　together　amid　the　whir　of　spindles　and　wheels。

One　thing　she　planned　for　us；　her　younger　housemates；a　dozen　or　so　of　cousins；　friends；　and　sisters；　some　attending　school；　and　some　at　work　in　the　mill；was　a　little　fortnightly　paper；　to　be　filled　with　our　original　contributions；　she　herself　acting　as　editor。

I　do　not　know　where　she　got　the　idea；　unless　it　was　from　Mrs。　Lydia　Maria　Child's　〃Juvenile　Miscellany；〃　which　had　found　its　way　to　us　some　years　before；a　most　delightful　guest；　and；　I　think；　the　first　magazine　prepared　for　American　children；　who　have　had　so　many　since　then。（I　have　always　been　glad　that　I　knew　that　sweet　woman　with　the　child's　heart　and　the　poet's　soul；　in　her　later　years；　and　could　tell　her　how　happy　she　had　helped　to　make　my　childhood。）　Our　little　sheet　was　called　〃The　Diving　Bell；〃　probably　from　the　sea…associations　of　the　name。　We　kept　our　secrets　of　authorship　very　close　from　everybody　except　the　editor；　who　had　to　decipher　the　handwriting　and　copy　the　pieces。　It　was；　indeed；　an　important　part　of　the　fun　to　guess　who　wrote　particular　pieces。　After　a　little　while；　however；　our　mannerisms　betrayed　us。　One　of　my　cousins　was　known　to　be　the　chief　story…　teller；　and　I　was　recognized　as　the　leading　rhymer　among　the　younger　contributors；　the　editor…sister　excelling　in　her　versifying；　as　she　did　in　almost　everything。

It　was　a　cluster　of　very　conscious…looking　little　girls　that　assembled　one　evening　in　the　attic　room；　chosen　on　account　of　its　remoteness　from　intruders　（for　we　did　not　admit　even　the　family　as　a　public；　the　writers　themselves　were　the　only　audience）；　to　listen　to　the　reading　of　our　first　paper。　We　took　Saturday　evening；　because　that　was　longer　than　the　other　workday　evenings；　the　mills　being　closed　earlier。　Such　guessing　and　wondering　and　admiring　as　we　had！　But　nobody　would　acknowledge　her　own　work；　for　that　would　have　spoiled　the　pleasure。　Only　there　were　certain　wise　hints　and　maxims　that　we　knew　never　came　from　any　juvenile　head　among　us；　and　those　we　set　down　as　〃editorials。〃

Some　of　the　stories　contained　rather　remarkable　incidents。　One；　written　to　illustrate　a　little　girl's　habit　of　carelessness　about　her　own　special　belongings；　told　of　her　rising　one　morning；　and　after　hunting　around　for　her　shoes　half　an　hour　or　so；　finding　them　in　the　book…case；　where　she　had　accidentally　locked　them　up　the　night　before！

To　convince　myself　that　I　could　write　something　besides　rhymes；　I　had　attempted　an　essay　of　half　a　column　on　a　very　extensive　subject；　〃MIND。〃　It　began　loftily：…

〃What　a　noble　and　beautiful　thing　is　mind！〃　and　it　went　on　in　the　same　high…flown　strain　to　no　particular　end。　But　the　editor　praised　it；　after　having　declined　the　verdict　of　the　audience　that　she　was　its　author；　and　I　felt　sufficiently　flattered　by　both　judgments。

I　wrote　more　rhymes　than　anything　else；　because　they　came　more　easily。　But　I　always　felt　that　the　ability　to　write　good　prose　was　far　more　desirable；　and　it　seems　so　to　me　still。　I　will　give　my　little　girl　readers　a　single　specimen　of　my　twelve…year…old　〃Diving　Bell〃　verses；　though　I　feel　as　if　I　ought　to　apologize　even　for　that。　It　is　on　a　common　subject；　〃Life　like　a　Rose〃：

〃Childhood's　like　a　tender　bud　That's　scarce　been　formed　an　hour；　But　which　erelong　will　doubtless　be　A　bright　and　lovely　flower。

〃And　youth　is　like　a　full…blown　rose　Which　has　not　known　decay；　But　which　must　soon；　alas！　too　soon！　Wither　and　fade　away。

〃And　age　is　like　a　withered　rose；　That　bends　beneath　the　blast；　But　though　its　beauty　all　is　gone；　Its　fragrance　yet　may　last。〃

This；　and　other　verses　that　I　wrote　then；　serve　to　illustrate　the　child's　usual　inclination　to　look　forward　meditatively；　rather　than　to　think　and　write　of　the　simple　things　that　belong　to　children。

Our　small　venture　set　some　of　us　imagining　what　larger　possibilities　might　be　before　us　in　the　far　future。　We　talked　over　the　things　we　should　like　to　do　when　we　should　be　women　out　in　the　active　world；　and　the　author　of　the　shoe…story　horrified　us　by　declaring　that　she　meant　to　be　distinguished　when　she　grew　up　for　something；　even　if　it　was　for　something　bad！　She　did　go　so　far　in　a　bad　way　as　to　plagiarize　a　long　poem　in　a　subsequent　number　of　the　〃Diving　Bell〃　but　the　editor　found　her　out；　and　we　all　thought　that　a　reproof　from　Emilie　was　sufficent　punishment。

I　do　not　know　whether　it　was　fortunate　or　unfortunate　for　me　that　I　had　not；　by　nature；　what　is　called　literary　ambition。　I　knew　that　I　had　a　knack　at　rhyming；　and　I　knew　that　I　enjoyed　nothing　better　than　to　try　to　put　thoughts　and　words　together；　in　any　way。　But　I　did　it　for　the　pleasure　of　rhyming　and　writing；　indifferent　as　to　what　might　come　of　it。　For　any　one　who　could　take　hold　of　every…day；　practical　work；　and　carry　it　on　successfully；　I　had　a　profound　respect。　To　be　what　is　called　〃capable〃　seemed　to　me　better　worth　while　than　merely　to　have　a　taste　or　for　writing；　perhaps　because　I　was　conscious　of　my　deficiencies　in　the　former　respect。　But　certainly　the　world　needs　deeds　more　than　it　needs　words。　I　should　never　have　been　willing　to　be　only　a　writer；　without　using　my　hands　to　some　good　purpose　besides。

My　sister；　however；　told　me　that　here　was　a　talent　which　I　had　no　right　to　neglect；　and　which　I　ought　to　make　the　most　of。　I　believed　in　her；　I　thought　she　understood　me　better　than　I　understood　myself；　and　it　was　a　comfort　to　be　assur