sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl. At first, with Amy Marryat and myself,
there was a little boy, Walter Powys, son of a clergyman with a large
family, and him she trained for some years, and then sent him on to
school admirably prepared. She chose "her children"--as she loved to call
us--in very definite fashion. Each must be gently born and gently
trained, but in such position that the education freely given should be a
relief and aid to a slender parental purse. It was her delight to seek
out and aid those on whom poverty presses most heavily, when the need for
education for the children weighs on the proud and the poor. "Auntie" we
all called her, for she thought "Miss Marryat" seemed too cold and stiff.
She taught us everything herself except music, and for this she had a
master, practising us in composition, in recitation, in reading aloud
English and French, and later, German, devoting herself to training us in
the soundest, most thorough fashion. No words of mine can tell how much I
owe her, not only of knowledge, bit of that love of knowledge which has
remained with me ever since as a constant spur to study.

Her method of teaching may be of interest to some, who desire to train
children with the least pain, and the most enjoyment to the little ones
themselves. First, we never used a spelling-book--that torment of the
small child--nor an English grammar. But we wrote letters, telling of the
things we had seen in our walks, or told again some story we had read;
these childish compositions she would read over with us, correcting all
faults of spelling, of grammar, of style, of cadence; a clumsy sentence
would be read aloud, that we might hear how unmusical it sounded; an
error in observation or expression pointed out. Then, as the letters
recorded what we had seen the day before, the faculty of observation was
drawn out and trained. "Oh, dear! I have nothing to say!" would come from
a small child, hanging over a slate. "Did you not go out for a walk
yesterday?" Auntie would question. "Yes", would be sighed out; "but