Half a Century eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 352 pages of information about Half a Century.


Those soft pink circles which fell upon my face and hands, caught in my hair, danced around my feet, and frolicked over the billowy waves of bright, green grass—­did I know they were apple blossoms?  Did I know it was an apple tree through which I looked up to the blue sky, over which white clouds scudded away toward the great hills?  Had I slept and been awakened by the wind to find myself in the world?

It is probable that I had for some time been familiar with that tree, and all my surroundings, for I had been breathing two and a half years, and had made some progress in the art of reading and sewing, saying catechism and prayers.  I knew the gray kitten which walked away; knew that the girl who brought it back and reproved me for not holding it was Adaline, my nurse; knew that the young lady who stood near was cousin Sarah Alexander, and that the girl to whom she gave directions about putting bread into a brick oven was Big Jane; that I was Little Jane, and that the white house across the common was Squire Horner’s.

There was no surprise in anything save the loveliness of blossom and tree; of the grass beneath and the sky above; and this first indelible imprint on my memory seems to have found this inner something I call me, as capable of reasoning as it has ever been.

While I sat and wondered, father came, took me in his loving arms and carried me to mother’s room, where she lay in a tent-bed, with blue foliage and blue birds outlined on the white ground of the curtains, like the apple-boughs on the blue and white sky.  The cover was turned down, and I was permitted to kiss a baby-sister, and warned to be good, lest Mrs. Dampster, who had brought the baby, should come and take it away.  This autocrat was pointed out, as she sat in a gray dress, white ’kerchief and cap, and no other potentate has ever inspired me with such reverential awe.

My second memory is of a “great awakening” to a sense of sin, and of my lost and undone condition.  On a warm summer day, while walking alone on the common which lay between home and Squire Horner’s house, I was struck motionless by the thought that I had forgotten God.  It seemed probable, considering the total depravity of my nature, that I had been thinking bad thoughts, and these I labored to recall, that I might repent and plead with Divine mercy for forgiveness.  But alas!  I could remember nothing save the crowning crime—­forgetfulness of God.

I seemed to stand outside, and see myself a mere mite, in a pink sun-bonnet and white bib, the very chief of sinners, for the probability was I had been thinking of that bonnet and bib.  It was quite certain that God knew my sin; and ah, the crushing horror that I could, by no possibility conceal aught from the All-seeing Eye, while it was equally impossible to win its approval.  The Divine Law was so perfect that I could not hope to meet its requirements—­the Divine Law-giver so alert that no sin could escape detection.

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Half a Century from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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