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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
103
One
day,
however,
I
found
among
some
rubbish
in
a
corner
a
volume,
with
one
good
stiff
cover;
the
other
was
missing.
It
did
not
look
so
very
old,
nor
as
if
it
had
been
much
read;
neither
did
it
look
very
inviting
to
me
as
I
turned
its
leaves.
On
its
title-page
I
read
"The
Life
of
John
Calvin."
I
did
not
know
who
he
was,
but
a
book
was
a
book
to
me,
and
this
would
do
as
well
as
any
to
begin
my
library
with.
I
looked
upon
it
as
a
treasure,
and
to
make
sure
of
my
claim,
I
took
it
down
to
my
mother
and
timidly
asked
if
I
might
have
it
for
my
own.
She
gave
me
in
reply
a
rather
amused
"Yes,"
and
I
ran
back
happy,
and
began
my
library
by
setting
John
Calvin
upright
on
a
beam
under
the
garret
eaves,
my
"make-believe"
book-case
shelf.
I
was
proud
of
my
literary
property,
and
filled
out
the
shelf
in
fancy
with
a
row
of
books,
every
one
of
which
should
have
two
stiff
covers.
But
I
found
no
more
neglected
volumes
that
I
could
adopt.
John
Calvin
was
left
to
a
lonely
fate,
and
am
afraid
that
at
last
the
mice
devoured
him.
Before
I
had
quite
forgotten
him,
however,
I
did
pick
up
one
other
book
of
about
his
size,
and
in
the
same
one-covered
condition;
and
this
attracted
me
more,
because
it
was
in
verse.
Rhyme
had
always
a
sort
of
magnetic
power
over
me,
whether
I
caught
at
any
idea
it
contained
or
not.
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