which fell upon me was a shuddering horror, as upon a first glimpse
of the truth that I was in a world of evil and strife. Though born in
a large town, (the town of Manchester, even then amongst the largest
of the island,) I had passed the whole of my childhood, except for the
few earliest weeks, in a rural seclusion. With three innocent little
sisters for playmates, sleeping always amongst them, and shut up forever
in a silent garden from all knowledge of poverty, or oppression, or
outrage, I had not suspected until this moment the true complexion of
the world in which myself and my sisters were living. Henceforward the
character of my thoughts changed greatly; for so _representative_ are
some acts, that one single case of the class is sufficient to throw
open before you the whole theatre of possibilities in that direction.
I never heard that the woman accused of this cruelty took it at all
to heart, even after the event which so immediately succeeded had
reflected upon it a more painful emphasis. But for myself, that incident
had a lasting revolutionary power in coloring my estimate of life.

So passed away from earth one of those three sisters that made up my
nursery playmates; and so did my acquaintance (if such it could be
called) commence with mortality. Yet, in fact, I knew little more of
mortality than that Jane had disappeared. She had gone away; but perhaps
she would come back. Happy interval of heaven-born ignorance! Gracious
immunity of infancy from sorrow disproportioned to its strength! I was
sad for Jane's absence. But still in my heart I trusted that she would
come again. Summer and winter came again--crocuses and roses; why not
little Jane?

Thus easily was healed, then, the first wound in my infant heart. Not
so the second. For thou, dear, noble Elizabeth, around whose ample
brow, as often as thy sweet countenance rises upon the darkness, I