. The one I knew the best of all : a memory of the mind of a child . use they were like her, and had ringlets, likehers, was simply delightful to her. How couldshe help loving them ? Was Mamma clever ? No, I think not. TheSmall Person never asked herself the question. 12 178 The One I Knew the Best of All That would have been most sacrilegious unlov-ingness. And why should one have thought ofasking: more of her than that she should be o Mamma. One would not ask ones self if anAngel were clever. And, also, one did not think of wonderinghow manyyears she hadlived. Shewas just theage of a mam-ma.
. The one I knew the best of all : a memory of the mind of a child . use they were like her, and had ringlets, likehers, was simply delightful to her. How couldshe help loving them ? Was Mamma clever ? No, I think not. TheSmall Person never asked herself the question. 12 178 The One I Knew the Best of All That would have been most sacrilegious unlov-ingness. And why should one have thought ofasking: more of her than that she should be o Mamma. One would not ask ones self if anAngel were clever. And, also, one did not think of wonderinghow manyyears she hadlived. Shewas just theage of a mam-ma. Only aslong as shelived hermind was likethat of an in-nocent, serious,young girl--witha sort of maidenly matronliness. Not be- / ing at all given to elo-quence or continuous con-versation of any sort, it wasa wonderful thing that hermere existence near one meant so muchâthat itsoothed headaches, and made sore-throats bear-able ; that it smoothed stormy nursery seas, andremoved the rankling sting of wrong and injus-tice. One could have confronted any trial, sup-. -and the First One 179 ported by the presence of this little, gentle, veryingenuous and unworldly Mamma. She was a sweetly feminine thing, and her liter-ature had been as feminine as herself. The SmallPerson found out about that. She had read im-proving works when she was a young lady. Shehad a great respect for Miss Martineau and and her Daughters of England. She hadread poems in Keepsakes, and knew all the beau-ties of Dr. Watts. Mrs. Barbauld she revered,and a certain book called Anna Lee, the Maiden,Wife, and Mother, she admired most sweetly. But you ought not to read tales so much,she used to say, with a gently heroic sense of ma-ternal duty, to the Small Person. You oughtto read something Improving. What is Improving, Mamma ? the SmallPerson would reply. Gentle little lady Mamma! I am afraid she wasvagueâthough the Small Person did not realizethat it was vagueness she always observed in herblue eye wh
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