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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
39
I
liked
to
go
to
meeting,--not
wholly
oblivious
to
the
fact
that
going
there
sometimes
implied
wearing
a
new
bonnet
and
my
best
white
dress
and
muslin
"vandyke,"
of
which
adornments,
if
very
new,
I
vainly
supposed
the
whole
congregation
to
be
as
admiringly
aware
as
I
was
myself.
But
my
Sabbath-day
enjoyment
was
not
wholly
without
drawbacks.
It
was
so
hard,
sometimes,
to
stand
up
through
the
"long
prayer,"
and
to
sit
still
through
the
"ninthlies,"
and
"tenthlies,"
and
"finallys"
of
the
sermon!
It
was
impressed
upon
me
that
good
children
were
never
restless
in
meeting,
and
never
laughed
or
smiled,
however
their
big
brothers
tempted
them
with
winks
or
grimaces.
And
I
did
want
to
be
good.
I
was
not
tall
enough
to
see
very
far
over
the
top
of
the
pew.
I
think
there
were
only
three
persons
that
came
within
range
of
my
eyes.
One
was
a
dark
man
with
black
curly
hair
brushed
down
in
"bangs"
over
his
eyebrows,
who
sat
behind
a
green
baize
curtain
near
the
outside
door,
peeping
out
at
me,
as
I
thought.
I
had
an
impression
that
he
was
the
"tidy-man,"
though
that
personage
had
become
mythical
long
before
my
day.
He
had
a
dragonish
look,
to
me;
and
I
tried
never
to
meet
his
glance.
But
I
did
sometimes
gaze
more
earnestly
than
was
polite
at
a
dear,
demure
little
lady
who
sat
in
the
corner
of
the
pew
next
ours,
her
downcast
eyes
shaded
by
a
green
calash,
and
her
hidden
right
hand
gently
swaying
a
long-handled
Chinese
fan.
She
was
the
deacon's
wife,
and
I
felt
greatly
interested
in
her
movements
and
in
the
expression
of
her
face,
because
I
thought
she
represented
the
people
they
called
"saints,"
who
were,
as
I
supposed,
about
the
same
as
first
cousins
to
the
angels.
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