His little daughter was in my infant
Sabbath-school class from her fourth to her seventh or eighth
year. She sometimes visited me at my work, and we had our frolics
among the heaps of cloth, as if we were both children. She had
also the same love of hymns that I had as a child, and she would
sit by my side and repeat to me one after another that she had
learned, not as a task, but because of her delight in them. One
of my sincerest griefs in going off to the West was that I should
see my little pupil Mary as a child no more. When I came back,
she was a grown-up young woman.
My friend Anna, who had procured for me the place and work
besideher which I liked so much, was not at all a bookish person,
but we had perhaps a better time together than if she had been.
She was one who found the happiness of her life in doing
kindnesses for others, and in helping them bear their burdens.
Family reverses had brought her, with her mother and sisters, to
Lowell, and this was one strong point of sympathy between my own
family and hers.
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