I
had passed through no small excitement in the prospect of that event. I
had anxiously watched every little preparation made for it, and my own
small packing had seemed momentous. I felt to the full the dignity of
the occasion. The father and mother, the brothers and sisters, the
inseparable and often tedious nursery-maid, Harriet, were all left
behind.
I stood for the first time on my individual responsibility among persons
of whom I had known but little. The monotony of home-life was broken in
upon, and my eyes and ears were both open to receive new impressions.
Doubtless, the careful mother, who permitted me to be placed in this new
situation, was well satisfied that I should be subjected only to good
influences, but had they been evil, I should certainly have been
lastingly affected by them, since every thing connected with the house
and its inmates, the garden, the fields, the walks in the village, lives
still a picture of vivid hues.
What induced the family to desire my company, I do not know; I have an
idea that I was invited because, like many other good people, they liked
the company of children, and in the hope that I might contribute to the
element of home-cheerfulness, with which they liked to surround their
only daughter, my Cousin Mary Rose, whose tall shadowy figure occupies
in my recollections, as it did in reality, the very center of this
household group.
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