“But I should think,” interposed Gabrielle, “that the scholars would have felt more inclined to play with Aunt Arminda, than to learn the lessons she gave them; she was such a child.”

“Your aunt was tall and well-developed,” replied mamma, “and had a natural air of dignity that gave her the appearance of being older than she really was.  She did not find it difficult to impress her pupils with respect, or to enforce obedience.”

“What did she teach them, Aunt Esther?” inquired Ida; “only the elementary branches, I suppose?”

“Reading, writing, and spelling,” replied mamma; “arithmetic and grammar, geography, sewing and knitting.”

“And how much did she make?” I inquired, being of a practical turn of mind at that moment.

“She was paid by the week,” said mamma, “and received the same salary as the majority of school-mistresses in those primeval days; seventy-five cents and her board.  She ‘boarded around,’ as the phrase was, among her pupils.  This may seem very little to you, but you must remember that in those days a good milch cow cost only ten dollars, and everything else was proportionately cheap.

“The next two winters, sister Arminda was in school herself, and the following year, when she was fifteen, she was married to our handsome cousin Lovel, Uncle Benjamin’s son.”

Another exclamation of amazement from the little group, and a chorus of—­

“Married at fifteen!  How surprising!  And did she make a pretty bride?”

“She was a very handsome girl,” replied mamma, and made a striking contrast to her blonde brothers and sisters, for she had a rich brunette complexion, large, dark-blue eyes, glossy dark hair, and set roses in her cheeks, which, even now that she is a great-grandmother have not entirely faded.  She was womanly far beyond her years; not so romantic, perhaps, as sister Margaret and I were at her age, but that she possessed talent, enterprise, and ambition, is shown by the success of her school, established at an age when most girls are contentedly dressing their dolls.

“Sister Arminda is a woman of superior character, and a devoted wife and mother.  She has had many severe trials to contend with during her long married life.  Her heart has known bitter sorrow, for of her family of eleven beautiful children only four are now living; but she has borne all these afflictions with enduring heroism.  The devotion of herself and her husband is something people of the world would consider quite Arcadian in these days of matrimonial infelicity, for until your Aunt Arminda paid me that visit three years ago, she had never, since her marriage, left her husband two successive nights.”

CHAPTER XVIII.

Visitors—­A Sunday Drive—­Croton lake by Daylight—­A Sail—­A Sudden Squall—­Anxiety about our Fate—­Miraculous Escape from Drowning—­Arrival of a Pretty Cousin—­A Child Poetess.