"Where I singing hear,
I lay me, free from fear.
Men intent on wrong
Never have a song."


I was a singer myself once during the short time when I was
connected with one of dame spinning wheel's relatives. I am not even
a laugher now. Still I am contented and cheerful, and I remember
past trials without any bitterness. I went through all processes of
carding, spinning, weaving, dyeing, stretching, dressing, &c., and
was at last placed in a shop for sale. A beautiful young girl
purchased me for her bridal pelisse. Never did a happier heart beat
than did hers on the Sunday after she was married, when she wore me
to the church, holding by her husband's arm. I could not but partake
of the pleasure which she received from the gentle pressure of his
arm when she put hers within his, saying, "I am glad, dear, you like
my pelisse so much."

O, how happy we all were! How proud my mistress was of me! How proud
I was of her! I hate to pass hastily over these happy days, but I
suppose the history of them would not be very interesting to any of
my hearers; for one day was very much like another. Never did any
garment cover a more innocent, joyful heart than that of my
mistress.

I lasted well for some years, but my sleeves, at last, became
threadbare; soon after, there were actual holes in them, and holes
also in my waist; I was, I must confess, a shabby-looking pelisse.