balls. Sally and Ruth betook themselves to their farm, and hybernated.
December came, and with it a young woman named Caroline, to learn the
tailor's trade. Lively and pretty, she changed our atmosphere.
She broke the silence of the morning by singing the "Star-spangled
Banner," or the "Braes of Balquhither," and disturbed the monotony of
the evenings by making molasses candy, which grand'ther ate, and which
seemed to have a mollifying influence. Grand'ther kept his eye on
Caroline; but his eye had no disturbing effect. She had no perception
of his character; was fearless with him, and went contrary to all his
ideas, and he liked her for it. She even reproved him for keeping such
a long face. Her sewing, which was very bad, tried his patience so,
that if it had not been for her mother, who was a poor widow, he would
have given up the task of teaching her the trade. She said she knew
she couldn't learn it; what was the use of trying? She meant to go
West, and thought she might make a good home-missionary, as she did,
for she married a poor young man, who had forsaken the trade of a
cooper, to study for the ministry, and was helped off to Ohio by
the Society of Home Missions. She came to see me in Surrey ten years
afterward, a gaunt, hollow-eyed woman, of forbidding manners, and an
implacable faith in no rewards or punishments this side of the grave.

I suffered so from the cold that December that I informed mother of
the fact by letter. She wrote back:

"My child, have courage. One of these days you will feel a tender
pity, when you think of your mother's girlhood. You are learning how
she lived at your age. I trembled at the prosperity of your opening
life, and believed it best for you to have a period of contrast. I
thought you would, by and by, understand me better than I do myself;
for you are not like me, Cassy, you are like your father. You shall