The seat next to the door was very pleasant, as it commanded a fine view to the rear. While occupying this agreeable post of vantage one day I incautiously put my forefinger in the crack of the door. The driver pulled the latter to with a bang, causing me sharp pain. Julia and I were alone in the omnibus, except for one stolid young woman who did nothing to comfort the weeping and frightened children. Fortunately we were near home. Alas! Papa, the good surgeon, was out. Mamma, who could not bear the sight of blood, would not look at the crushed finger, but instantly ordered the carriage and took me to see Dr. William Bigelow. He pronounced, to our great relief, that no bones were broken. The finger has never quite recovered its original shape. My mother was much worried at the moment, but made merry over the accident a little later in _The Listener_.[7] Footnote 7: See Chapter IV. The school of the Misses Stevenson was just opposite the reservoir and a stone’s throw from the State House. The last named had not then received the additions which have doubtless increased its usefulness, but detracted from its beauty. It stood simple and majestic, a fitting crown to dear old Beacon Hill. No odious apartment-house then lifted a commercial head above it, dwarfing the height of the beautiful dome. The old Hancock house still stood near by. It had not yet made way for the mansion of the gentleman whose ambition was to have the handsomest house in Boston and the finest tomb in Mount Auburn. Alas for human ambition! I fancy that few people now remember either this man, his dwelling, or his tomb. We children loved to play on the granite steps and balustrades of the State House, also to climb to the dome when permitted. A selfish and obstructionist legislature allowed no one to go there while the General Court was in session, asserting that the noise disturbed them. In _The Listener_ we find many mentions of the Stevenson School. Prominent among our diversions was the holding of fairs. I regret to say that these would seem to have been purely commercial transactions, if we may judge by the “advertisement” in _The Listener_. As it appeared _after_ the fair, it was a little different from an ordinary modern advertisement. Every lady who helped to sell things, got 43 cents, and if the fair should be held next year, we advise all who do not wish to trouble their papas for pocket money to take a table at the fair. We note, however, that the young ladies are advised to remember the poor and forget the candy-shop, “as there are a great many little girls who want bread this hard winter.” The articles sold were, to a great extent, contributed by our long-suffering elders. “The head of John the Baptist on a charger” was furnished, however, by one of the school-girls. The head of a small china doll was displayed on a tiny plate, adorned with vermilion paint!