ready to give to those in need to an extent which called forth constant
remonstrances from more prudent friends; her alacrity also in all
household labors, which the more excited my wonder, knowing the little
opportunity she could have had to practise them amid the wealth of her
father's house before the Embargo, which later wrecked his fortune with
those of so many other New England merchants. She was, indeed, of a most
noble nature, hating all meanness and injustice, and full of helpful
kindness and sympathy. No woman ever had warmer or more devoted friends.

Both at this time and in subsequent visits, as she advanced from
childhood to girlhood, I remember Lizzy well; although my attention
was chiefly absorbed by the elder sister of my own age, my principal
companion when present, and correspondent when absent. The two sisters
were strongly contrasted. Louisa, as a child, was afflicted with a
sensitive, almost morbid shyness and reserve, and an incapacity for
enjoying the society of other children whose tastes were uncongenial
with her own. The shyness passed with her childhood, but the
sensitiveness and exclusiveness never quite left her. Her love of books
was a passion, and she would resent an unfair criticism of a favorite
author as warmly as if it were an attack on a personal friend. To Lizzy,
on the contrary, a friend was a book which she loved to read. Human
nature was her favorite study. There seemed to be no one in whom she
could not find something to interest her, none with whom there was not
some point of sympathy. Combined with this wide and genial sympathy was
another quality which helped to endear her to her companions, viz., an
entire absence of all attempt to show her best side, or put the best
face on anything that concerned her. An ingenuous frankness about
herself and her affairs--even about her little weaknesses--was one
of her most striking traits. No one, indeed, could know her without
learning to love her dearly. Yet if I should say that in my visits to