In the days when New York was not the big city that it is now, there was a fashionable section called the Bowling Green. The people who lived there often used to see a great yellow coach roll by. Within, three little girls sat stiffly against the bright blue cushions. These children were dressed in blue coats and yellow satin bonnets to match the chariot and its lining. They were the three little Ward children, one of them, Julia, to be known later throughout the land as Julia Ward Howe. She is the author of the famous patriotic hymn which you sing so often at school, the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Julia Ward, the eldest of the three little girls, was born in New York City, May 27, 1819. Although her father was a rich man and loved his children very dearly, they did not have many of the pleasures which most children to-day enjoy as a matter of course. The Ward girls had very little chance to romp and play outdoors and get acquainted with the birds and flowers. To be sure, they went to Newport, Rhode Island, in the summer, but poor little Julia had to wear a thick green worsted veil to protect her delicate skin. It was not until she had children of her own that she realized how much she had missed in her youth. She was glad that her children could live close to Nature. Julia was, however, a happy child in spite of her rather sober life. She was alone much of the time, for her lively brothers were away at school and the two younger sisters played by themselves; but she was never lonely. She read a great deal: Shakespeare, Byron, and as much other poetry as she could find. She enjoyed her music and other lessons. Julia was particularly fond of study. At first she had lessons at home, but at the age of nine she was sent to a private school nearby. Here this little girl studied a difficult book, Paley’s _Moral Philosophy_, with girls of sixteen and eighteen years of age. Once, at this time, she heard a class reciting an Italian lesson. The musical sound of the language delighted her, and she listened whenever she had the chance. She secured a grammar, and studied it by herself. Then, one day, she handed the surprised teacher a letter, written correctly in Italian, asking permission to join the class. Julia loved to make up poetry, and when she was in her thirteenth year, she copied a number of her poems into a brown blank book as a present for her father. One of them was a poem written about her mother, whom she had lost when she was only six years old. Still another was in French; and in the four stanzas there was only one mistake. The study of languages was always a delight to her. She spoke and wrote French and German very well. Later in life she studied Spanish, and at the age of fifty she did not feel that she was too old to begin the study of Greek.