A very early trial was connected with a visit to a school. I was getting
proud of my ability to spell small words. A primer-maker had attempted
to help the association of letters with objects by placing them in
juxtaposition, but through a mistake he led me to my undoing. I knew my
letters and I knew some things. I plainly distinguished the letters
P-A-N. Against them I was puzzled by a picture of a spoon, and with
credulity, perhaps characteristic, I blurted out "P-a-n--spoon," whereat
to my great discomfiture everybody laughed. I have never liked being
laughed at from that day to this.

I am glad that I left New England early, but I am thankful that it was
not before I realized the loveliness of the arbutus as it braved the
snow and smiled at the returning sun, nor that I made forts or played
morris in the snow at school.

I have passed on from my first impressions in the country perhaps
unwarrantedly. It is hard to differentiate consistently. I may have
mixed early memories with more mature realization. I did not live with
my grandmother continuously. I went back and forth as convenience and
others' desires prompted. I do not know what impressions of life in the
Pemberton House came first. Very early I remember helping my busy
little mother, who in the spring of the year uncorded all the bedsteads
and made life miserable for the festive bedbugs by an application of
whale oil from a capable feather applied to the inside of all holes
through which the ropes ran. The re-cording of the beds was a tedious
process requiring two persons, and I soon grew big enough to count as
one. I remember also the little triangular tin candlesticks that we
inserted at the base of each of the very small panes of the window when
we illuminated the hotel on special nights. I distinctly recall the