The story of my life ; or, The sunshine and shadow of seventy years / by Mary A. Livermore ... with hitherto unrecorded incidents and recollections of three years' experience as an army nurse in the great Civil War, and reminiscences of twenty-five years' experiences on the lecture platform ... to which is added six of her most popular lectures ... with portraits and one hundred and twenty engravings from designs by eminent artists ...

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THE STORY OF MY LIFE.

"What would you like to study, Dick'?" I asked, " if you
could make your choice."
"I'd like to learn about things out-doors, - the trees an'
how they grow, an' what kind of earth is best for 'em,- the
rocks, an' what makes 'em,- an' how the world was made,an' 'bout birds an' fishes, an' everythin' out-doors. I'd like
to study more about that, an' I mean to. I s'pose I'm a
dunce, but I don't like books. Oh! I hate them poetry
books! I'd throw every one of 'em into the river, if I could
have my way An' Latin grammar! Oh, dear me! it will
be the death of me I know!"
I began to wonder if we were taking the right course
with Dick. He was a very bright boy in certain directions.
I remembered George Combe, author of " The Constitution of
Man," the Scotch philosopher, whose lectures I had attended
in Boston, and who told his audience "he had never succeeded in mathematics." While taking high rank in psychology, or " mental philosophy," as it was then called, if he
gave a salesman a dollar in payment for thirty-seven cents'
worth of goods, he could never tell if the right change had
been returned to him. "rAnd, ladies and gentlemen," he
added with emphasis, " I have never yet been able to learn
the multiplication table! " Perhaps Dick was one of these
exceptional boys. He was my problem, to be studied and
solved,- and I must consult with his father.
The arrival of unexpected guests on the plantation was
a very unusual event, and always caused excitement. When,
therefore, in the early fall, just at the close of a morning
session of school, we saw riding up the avenue a very
ordinary-looking man, who, as he passed us lifted his hat,
and then, as if on familiar terms with the house, sought admission at the side door, we were consumed with curiosity
to know who he was, and what was his errand.