had been passed in the literary circles of New Haven and Andover, and she had much to tell of distinguished people known to me only by reputation.  I admired her firm yet gentle rule, so skilfully adapted to the varying natures under her charge; her conscientious study of that homely virtue economy, so distasteful to one of her naturally lavish temper, always ready to give to those in need to an extent which called forth constant remonstrances from more prudent friends; her alacrity also in all household labors, which the more excited my wonder, knowing the little opportunity she could have had to practise them amid the wealth of her father’s house before the Embargo, which later wrecked his fortune with those of so many other New England merchants.  She was, indeed, of a most noble nature, hating all meanness and injustice, and full of helpful kindness and sympathy.  No woman ever had warmer or more devoted friends.

Both at this time and in subsequent visits, as she advanced from childhood to girlhood, I remember Lizzy well; although my attention was chiefly absorbed by the elder sister of my own age, my principal companion when present, and correspondent when absent.  The two sisters were strongly contrasted.  Louisa, as a child, was afflicted with a sensitive, almost morbid shyness and reserve, and an incapacity for enjoying the society of other children whose tastes were uncongenial with her own.  The shyness passed with her childhood, but the sensitiveness and exclusiveness never quite left her.  Her love of books was a passion, and she would resent an unfair criticism of a favorite author as warmly as if it were an attack on a personal friend.  To Lizzy, on the contrary, a friend was a book which she loved to read.  Human nature was her favorite study.  There seemed to be no one in whom she could not find something to interest her, none with whom there was not some point of sympathy.  Combined with this wide and genial sympathy was another quality which helped to endear her to her companions, viz., an entire absence of all attempt to show her best side, or put the best face on anything that concerned her.  An ingenuous frankness about herself and her affairs—­even about her little weaknesses—­was one of her most striking traits.  No one, indeed, could know her without learning to love her dearly.  Yet if I should say that in my visits to Portland, Lizzy always appeared to me pre-eminently the life and charm of the household, it would not be exactly true, though she would have been so of almost any other household.  The Payson family was a delightful one to visit, all were so bright, and in the contest of wits that took place often between Lizzy and her merry brothers, it was sometimes hard to tell which bore off the palm.