XX.

I RETAINED my situation in the Lafayette Mill, and liked my looms as ever. I sometimes thought my work tasked my physical powers too heavily, though I could make it as light and easy as I pleased. But we were ambitious to tend all the looms, and earn all the wages we could; and this ambition became such a habit with us, we obeyed it as we did the rules and regulations of the mill. I was often greatly fatigued when I retired at night, and as often resolved to make my day's-work lighter. But my resolutions were seldom carried out. When nothing else came up to quicken my steps, the recollection of my brothers, and my desire to assist them in any time of need, or procure a home to which I could invite them, renewed my strength, and urged me on to greater tasks and exertions.

How many, and how pleasant were the little rural homes my fancy built for my brothers, and how often did the fair enchantress assure me that I was not building castles in the air! It was always a Swiss cottage, but now it stood on the banks of the Merrimack, near the cascade I have mentioned, where we would have our garden and trees, and keep our dairy and poultry, and bring our

berries from the hills, and nuts from the woods, and enjoy our book or a visit from friends on the social autumn evenings, and during the summer and winter storms. Again, it was in South Salem, Lynn, or Wenham, but always in view of pleasant woods and waters, and always supplied with rural luxuries, and enjoyed with books and friends.

The atmosphere of the mill remained unpleasant; and that, more than my work, often took the color from my cheeks, and the vigor from my hand. How different from that which I breathed in a former sphere! What a prison did I seem to enter as I returned from a trip to the dear old city of peace!

Still I liked my employment far better than I anticipated, and saw that much which Mr. Olney predicted was true. There was a moral atmosphere in the mill which was breezy and inspiring as the morning air. I found that our work had a good influence on our minds. The girls, with very few exceptions, were fast improving in its discipline. Indeed, I found them rising to a strength of will and breadth of character which I did not expect. Their sympathies were warmer and wider, and never was an appeal made to their charity which did not receive a generous response. They were more independent, and had higher ideas of woman-of her capabilities, her mission, and her sphere. I cannot say that this was the effect of our work alone, though I am sure that it gave us moral energy; but our associations, and the books we read, and the object for which we labored, did, perhaps, more than our work, for our character and life. I could see that even Miss Mumby was more of a woman than

when I met her first, and was not so fond of dress, though she still indulged her folly too much.

Amelia Dorlon was evidently injured by coming to Merrimack, and I began to regard her with anxiety and grief. It could not have been factory life that stole away the sweet simplicity of her childhood, and yet she was greatly changed. She had a passion for dress, which a portion of her mother's earnings were taken to gratify. She was vain of her beauty, and loved to be petted and praised. She had scarce any mind or will of her own, and began to be governed by the minds of a giddy circle and by the tastes and fashions of the world. glected her education, and read such books only as gave our sex a weak and degraded character, and narrow soul and sphere.

She ne

But Agnes and Anna continued to engage my love and admiration. And what a satisfaction they took in the objects of their toil, and what discipline and beauty! Only one more payment had Agnes to make, and her father would have an unencumbered farm again, and she could return, when she desired to, and enjoy more sweetly her pleasant Quinnebaug home.

Poor Anna suffered many home afflictions, but she had such a hopeful and sunny nature she enjoyed some happy days, while laying up means for her own and her mother's needs, and while rising to a beautiful life.

We continued to like Mr. Olney, our superintendent, very much. He knew our nature, and the honor of our vocation, and could look at our position from our own point of view. He knew what to demand of us, and

what was due to us from our employers; and his interest extended beyond the consideration of so much service done, and so much wages rendered. He regarded us as moral and intelligent beings, and he did all in his power to help our education and promote our independence.

My acquaintance with Neal Derby continued, and my attachments for him increased as he showed more tastes in sympathy with mine, and displayed, with few exceptions, the signs of a manliness which won my admiration.

A fine source of pleasure was at this time proposed, and a large circle of young men and women was soon drawn around it. It was proposed by Miss Warden. She discovered that there was mind and taste among the spindles. She saw what faculties of thought were flourishing without aid, and amid disadvantages, as she had seen thrifty pines and maples flourish on a rock. She saw what threads of sentiment might be gathered up and woven into golden fabrics; what images and ideas could be looped into festoons of beautiful poetry, or wrought into webs of eloquent prose, and she invited about twenty of us to her parlor one evening, and proposed to form a Book Society. She would enjoy it herself. She knew she would profit equally with us, and she hoped we would favor her plan, or offer better ones, and engage in earnest with her.

She proposed a method of raising funds for a library, by which she engaged to get large assistance from her wealthy friends, and she suggested the regulations of the society; which she thought should meet once a week, and take exercises in reading and composition. Her suggestions were approved and adopted with delight. A

society was organized, and the houses of three or four friends were selected as places for the meetings. There was not a girl at Mrs. Dorlon's, excepting Milly, who did not rejoice to be a member, and she too went along with the rest. Full twenty girls attended the first night, and at the second meeting, a fortnight after, a dozen young men were admitted to membership. Mr. Olney heard of our movement, and he handed in a check for fifty dollars, (the contribution of himself and a few friends,) told us to lay it all out for books, and informed us that his daughter would be glad to join us. Selwyn Downs was greatly interested, and he gave us fine sum of money to commence with, and a handsome library was purchased.

aid and counsel. We had a

But in signing the by-laws which, after six months, required a weekly composition, some of the girls pledged themselves to an undertaking of which they had little idea. Most of us had a good common-school education, all of us wrote a fair hand, and some had produced essays and stories of great merit, while a few had never attempted an effort of the kind. Poor Anna Logan could write after copies, but she could not originate a written sentence. Miss Mumby was but little ahead of Anna, although her opportunities had left her without excuse. Milly Dorlon wrote a passable letter with a little help from the "Model Letter Writer," while Agnes Newman could describe a landscape, incident or character, in a style which delighted Julia Warden.

Such was the power of Julia's inspirations, however, we all took courage, and thought we could produce any