The first words of encouragement she ever received, came to her in the guise of severity. She was suffering from a fly having got into her eye. “Harriet,” said the mother, firmly grasping her for the operation, “I know that you have resolution, and you must stand still till I get it out.” Thus conjured, the startled, nervous little creature never stirred till the obstruction was removed. And was she, the trembling little one, “with cheeks pale as clay,” “flat white forehead, over which the hair grew low,” “eyes hollow,--eyes light, large, and full, generally red with crying,--a thoroughly scared face,”--was _she_, then, _resolute_? She ran to the great gateway, near the street, and beckoned to a playmate, to tell her what her mother had said. “Is _that_ all you have made me come to hear?” It was the first encouraging word she had ever heard, and she could find no one with whom to share the new joy. Till now she had never thought herself worth anything whatever. MARIA WESTON CHAPMAN: ‘Memorials of Harriet Martineau.’ (‘Autobiography,’ _vol. ii._) * * * * * [Sidenote: Early religious feeling.] Intensely religious I certainly was from a very early age. The religion was of a bad sort enough, as might be expected from the urgency of my needs; but I doubt whether I could have got through without it. I pampered my vain-glorious propensities by dreams of divine favor, to make up for my utter deficiency of self-respect; and I got rid of otherwise incessant remorse by a most convenient confession and repentance, which relieved my nerves without at all, I suspect, improving my conduct.... While I was afraid of everybody I saw, I was not in the least afraid of God.... The Sundays began to be marked days, and pleasantly marked, on the whole. I do not know why crocuses were particularly associated with Sunday at that time, but probably my mother might have walked in the garden with us some early spring Sunday. My idea of heaven was of a place gay with yellow and lilac crocuses. My love of gay colors was very strong.... The Octagon Chapel at Norwich [Unitarian], has some curious windows in the roof; not skylights, but letting in light indirectly. I used to sit staring up at those windows, and looking for angels to come for me and take me to heaven, in sight of all the congregation,--the end of the world being sure to happen while we were at chapel. I was thinking of this, and of the hymns, the whole of the time, it now seems to me. It was very shocking to me that I could not pray at chapel. I believe that I never did in my life. I prayed abundantly when I was alone, but it was impossible to do it in any other way, and the hypocrisy of appearing to do so was a long and sore trouble to me. [Sidenote: Finds Milton at seven.] [Sidenote: Shakespeare at thirteen.]