A gun was now purchased, and the girl became an admirable marksman.  Her room was a perfect museum.  Here were birds, bats, beetles, snakes, and toads; some dissected, some preserved in spirits, and others stuffed, all gathered and prepared by her own hands.  Now she made an inkstand from the egg of a sea-gull and the body of a kingfisher; now she climbed to the top of a tree and brought down a crow’s nest.  She could walk miles upon miles with no fatigue.  She grew up like a boy, which is only another way of saying that she grew up healthy and strong physically.  Probably polite society was shocked at Dr. Hosmer’s methods.  Would that there were many such fathers and mothers, that we might have a vigorous race of women, and consequently, a vigorous race of men!

When Harriet tired of books,—­for she was an eager reader,—­she found delight in a clay-pit in the garden, where she molded horses and dogs to her heart’s content.  Unused to restraint, she did not like the first school at which she was placed, the principal, the brother-in-law of Nathaniel Hawthorne, writing to her father that he “could do nothing with her.”

She was then taken to Mrs. Sedgwick, who kept a famous school at Lenox, Berkshire County.  She received “happy Hatty,” as she was called, with the remark, “I have a reputation for training wild colts, and I will try this one.”  And the wise woman succeeded.  She won Harriet’s confidence, not by the ten thousand times repeated “don’t,” which so many children hear in home and school, till life seems a prison-pen.  She let her run wild, guiding her all the time with so much tact, that the girl scarcely knew she was guided at all.  Blessed tact!  How many thousands of young people are ruined for lack of it!

She remained here three years.  Mrs. Sedgwick says, “She was the most difficult pupil to manage I ever had, but I think I never had one in whom I took so deep an interest, and whom I learned to love so well.”  About this time, not being quite as well as usual, Dr. Hosmer engaged a physician of, large practice to visit his daughter.  The busy man could not be regular, which sadly interfered with Harriet’s boating and driving.  Complaining one day that it spoiled her pleasure, he said, “If I am alive, I will be here,” naming the day and hour.

“Then if you are not here, I am to conclude that you are dead,” was the reply.

As he did not come, Harriet drove to the newspaper offices in Boston that afternoon, and the next morning the community was startled to read of Dr. ——­’s sudden death.  Friends hastened to the house, and messages of condolence came pouring in.  It is probable that he was more punctual after this.

On Harriet’s return from Lenox, she began to take lessons in drawing, modeling, and anatomical studies, in Boston, frequently walking from home and back, a distance of fourteen miles.  Feeling the need of a thorough course in anatomy, she applied to the Boston Medical School for admittance, and was refused because of her sex.  The Medical College of St. Louis proved itself broader, glad to encourage talent wherever found, and received her.