book. I only recall the enthusiastic delight with which chapter
after chapter was greeted; we declared that it was a fairy tale of
geography, and a work of genius in its whole conception, and in its
absorbing interest of detail and individuality; and that any publisher
would demonstrate himself an idiot who did not want to publish it. I
remember Jane's quick tossing back of the head, and puzzled brow which
broke into a laugh, as she said: "Well, girls, it can't be as good as
you say; there must be some faults in it." But we all exclaimed that
we had done our prettiest at finding fault,--that there wasn't a
ghost of a fault in it. For the incarnate beauty and ideality and
truthfulness of her little stories had melted into our being, and left
us spellbound, till we were one with each other and her; one with the
Seven Little Sisters, too, and they seemed like our very own little
sisters. So they have rested in our imagination and affection as we
have seen them grow into the imagination and affection of generations
of children since, and as they will continue to grow until the
old limitations and barrenness of the study of geography shall be
transfigured, and the earth seem to the children an Eden which love
has girdled, when Gemila, Agoonack, and the others shall have won them
to a knowledge of the brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of God.

I would like to bring before young people who have read her books some
qualities of her mind and character which made her the rare woman,
teacher, and writer that she was. I knew her from early girlhood. We
went to the same schools, in more and more intimate companionship,
from the time we were twelve until we were twenty years of age; and
our lives and hearts were "grappled" to each other "with links of
steel" ever after. She was a precocious child, early matured, and
strong in intellectual and emotional experiences. She had a remarkably
clear mind, orderly and logical in its processes, and loved to take