MARY BAKER EDDY. A long way seems the dear old New England home—its sheltering groves and quiet hills; amid the clustering memories my tears are falling thick and silently like the autumn leaves in forest dells. CLARA BARTON. Children have more need of models than of critics. JOSEPH JOUBERT. Children think not of what is past nor of what is to come but enjoy the present time, which few of us do. LA BRUYERE. Women are only children of a larger growth. CHESTERFIELD—_Letter to his son_. The only fun is to do things. CLARA BARTON. I pledged myself to strive only for the courage of the right and for the blessedness of true womanhood. CLARA BARTON. SCHOOL—CHILDISH MEMORIES—MILITARY What woman has not said “I remember when I was a girl....” Clara Barton at eighty-six years said, in the story of her childhood, I remember ..., I remember riding wild colts when I was five years of age. I remember how frightened I was, but acquired assurance when my brother used to tell me to “cling fast to the mane.” To this day (at eighty-six years of age) my seat in the saddle, or on the bare back of a horse, is as secure and tireless as in a rocking chair. I remember I thought the President might be as large as the meeting house and the Vice President perhaps the size of the school house. I remember telling my teacher that I did not spell such little words as “cat” and “dog,” but I spell in artichoke, artichoke being the first word in the column of three syllables. I remember writing verses, many of which for years were preserved—some of these verses by others recited to amuse people—some verses to tease me. I remember, in school, making a mistake in pronouncing ‘Ptolmy,’ when the children laughed at me, and I burst out crying and left the room. I remember that my father taught me politics; and that, as an old soldier,[1] he amused the other children and myself by giving us practical lessons in military life. We used improvised material, such as children are accustomed to use in “playing soldier,”—paper caps, plumes, banners, kettle for the kettle drum, tin swords, sticks for guns and bayonets—all of which were perfectly satisfactory to us. Footnote 1: A Clara Barton paternal ancestor immigrated to America from Lancashire, England, about twelve years after the landing of _The Mayflower_. Since that date a direct descendant of his has participated in every war, by this country. Our muskets were of cedar wood With ramrods bright and new; With bayonets forever set, And painted barrels, too.