"My first teacher was a little old woman, rosy and roly-poly, who
looked as though she might have just come tumbling out of a fairy
story, so lovable was she and so jolly and so amiable. She kept
school in her little Dame-Trot kind of dwelling of three rooms,
with a porch in the rear, like a bracket on the wall, which was
part of the play-ground of her 'scholars,'--for in those days
pupils were called 'scholars' by their affectionate teachers.
Among the twelve or fifteen boys and girls who were there I
remember particularly a little lame boy, who always got the first
ride in the locust-tree swing during recess.

"This first teacher of mine was a mother to all her 'scholars,'
and in every way looked after their comfort, especially when
certain little ones grew drowsy. I was often, with others,
carried to the sitting-room and left to slumber on a small made-
down pallet on the floor. She would sometimes take three or four
of us together; and I recall how a playmate and I, having been
admonished into silence, grew deeply interested in watching a
spare old man who sat at a window with its shade drawn down.
After a while we became accustomed to this odd sight and would
laugh, and talk in whispers and give imitations, as we sat in a
low sewing-chair, of the little old pendulating blind man at the
window. Well, the old man was the gentle teacher's charge, and
for this reason, possibly, her life had become an heroic one,
caring for her helpless husband who, quietly content, waited
always at the window for his sight to come back to him. And
doubtless it is to-day, as he sits at another casement and sees
not only his earthly friends, but all the friends of the Eternal
Home, with the smiling, loyal, loving little woman forever at his