rn at Astley in Worcestershire on December
14, 1836. She was the youngest daughter of William Henry Havergal, who
was rector of Astley. Her second Christian name she got from her
godfather, Rev. W.H. Ridley, and rejoiced in the fact that he was
descended from the godly martyr, Bishop Ridley.

Her eldest sister Miriam gives a glowing description of Frances:[1]

[Footnote 1: The quotations, when not otherwise acknowledged, are made,
and the chief of the facts taken, by kind permission of Messrs. Nisbet &
Sons, from _Memorials of Frances Ridley Havergal_.]

"My recollection of Frances begins with the first day of her life; a
pretty little babe even then, and by the time she reached two years of
age, with her fair complexion, light curling hair, and bright
expression, a prettier child was seldom seen. At that age she spoke with
perfect distinctness, and with greater fluency and variety of language
than is usual in so young a child. She comprehended and enjoyed any
little stories that were told her. I remember her animated look of
attention when the Rev. J. East told her about a little Mary who loved
the Lord Jesus. We were all taught to read early and to repeat by our
dear mother, but as I had now left school I undertook the charming
little pupil, teaching her reading, spelling, and a rhyme (generally one
of Jane Taylor's), for half an hour every morning, and in the afternoon
twenty or thirty stitches of patchwork, with a very short text to repeat
next morning at breakfast. When three years old she could read easy
books, and her brother Frank remembers how often she was found hiding
under a table with some engrossing story. At four years old, Frances
could read the Bible and any ordinary book correctly, and had learned to
write in round hand; French and music were gradually added; but great
care was always taken not to tire her or excite the precocity of her
mind, and she never had a regular governess."

In the year 1859 she began to write an autobiography, commencing with
her recollections of herself and her surroundings when she was four
years old. She thus writes: "Up to the time that I was six years old I
have no remembrance of any religious ideas whatever. Even when taken
once to see the corpse of a little boy of my own age (four years) lying
in a coffin strewn with flowers, in dear papa's parish of Astley, I did
not think about it as otherwise than a very sad and very curious thing
that that little child should lie