I have before mentioned that beyond the house there was a large fruit-garden, respecting which, my father’s orders were especially strict.  He expressly forbade our touching any of the fruit unless he gave us permission; and nothing made him more angry than to have any gathered before it was quite ripe.  It certainly requires a child whose principle of honesty is a very strong one, to pass every day in full view of an endless bed of ripening strawberries, whose uncommon size and luscious hue offered so many temptations.  But bad as I was, I think I was generally pretty honest, and resisted the temptation to the best of my ability.

CHAPTER V.

I think I was about five years old, when one bright May morning my brother Henry received especial instructions to be careful of me, and see that I fell into no mischief on the occasion of my first day at school.  The luncheon-basket was packed with twice the usual quantity of sandwiches, into which Mammy slyly tucked a small paper of sweet things as a sort of comforter, with repeated injunctions to Henry not to make a mistake and confiscate them for his own private use.  A superfluous caution—­for Henry was the most generous little fellow that ever lived; and was far more likely to fall short himself than that others should suffer through him.  Both Jane and Mammy kissed me repeatedly.  I had on a new dress of light, spotted calico, and a straw hat, with a green ribbon, and a deep green silk cape—­underneath the binding of my apron a small handkerchief had been carefully pinned—­a small blue-covered book, and a slate with a long, sharp-pointed pencil tied on with a red cord, were placed in my hands; and from these ominous preparations, and the uncommon kindness of every one around, I concluded that I was at last to meet with some adventure—­perhaps to suffer martyrdom of some kind or other.

Poor Jane!  My great passion was for beads, and when she perceived, from various indications, that I was not exactly pleased with the change, she ran up stairs, hastily loosened a whole string from a cherished necklace, and returning quickly, slipped them into my hand.  My mother also came into the nursery to see that I was perfectly neat, kissed me affectionately as she whispered to me to be a good girl and learn to read, and with a strange, undefined sensation at my heart, I found myself in the street with my hand fast locked in that of Henry.  It was that lovely season of the year when the fruit-trees are all in bloom; and the sweet, flower-laden breeze, the busy hum of human life that rose around, and the bounding, restless spirit of childhood, made me shrink from the bondage I was about to enter.