He Who Plants A Tree, Plants A

In The Older Times It Was Seldom Said To Little Girls, As It Always Has Been Said To Boys, That They Ought To Have Some Definite Plan, While They Were Children, What To Be And Do When They Were Grown Up. There Was Usually But One Path Open Before Them, To Become Good Wives And Housekeepers. And The Ambition Of Most Girls Was To Follow Their Mothers' Footsteps In This Direction; A Natural And Laudable Ambition. But Girls, As Well As Boys, Must Often Have Been Conscious Of Their Own Peculiar Capabilities,--must Have Desired To Cultivate And Make Use Of Their Individual Powers.

Labor, In Itself, Is Neither Elevating Or Otherwise. It Is The Laborer's Privilege To Ennoble His Work By The Aim With Which He Undertakes It, And By The Enthusiasm And Faithfulness He Puts Into It.

Whether Rich Or Poor, A Home Is Not A Home Unless The Roots Of Love Are Ever Striking Deeper Through The Crust Of The Earthly And The Conventional, Into The Very Realities Of Being, Not Consciously Always; Seldom, Perhaps; The Simplicity Of Loving Grows By Living Simply Near Nature And God.

My 'must-have' Was Poetry. From The First, Life Meant That To Me. And, Fortunately, Poetry Is Not Purchasable Material, But An Atmosphere In Which Every Life May Expand. I Found It Everywhere About Me.

The New Hampshire Girls Who Came To Lowell Were Descendants Of The Sturdy Backwoodsmen Who Settled That State Scarcely A Hundred Years Before.... They Were Earnest And Capable; Ready To Undertake Anything That Was Worth Doing. My Dreamy, Indolent Nature Was Shamed Into Activity Among Them. They Gave Me A Larger, Firmer Ideal Of Womanhood.