ruffles such as I had seen ladies embroider, are as vivid in memory as if laid on the table where I now write. Sibylline leaves, on which the little happy heart depicted the semblance of its own imaginings, they unfold their scrolls to me, bringing back the perfume of the abundant fruits and rich blossoms that breathed around.
I had but few playthings, and those of the simplest kind. More were not coveted, having no companion with whom to enjoy or divide them. In those early days of the republic our merchant vessels did not swell their freight with the toys of Germany and France. Dolls that opened their eyes, moved their joints, and moaned, were unknown, and might have been deemed the work of necromancy. I never possessed any save those of household manufacture, and they were not eminently distinguished by fine proportions or elegant costume. My best one had a face of cambric, black pin-heads for eyes, half-circles drawn with a pen for eyebrows, lips of a slip of vermilion silk, curled flax for tresses, and handless arms pinned submissively over her stomach. The doll-genus were not at all essential to my happiness. They were of the most consequence when, marshalled in the character of pupils, I installed myself as their teacher. Then I talked much and long to them, reproving their faults, stimulating them to excellence, and enforcing a variety of moral obligations.
