me!

CLARA BARTON

It was on the brightest, sunniest kind of a Christmas morning, nearly
one hundred years ago, that Clara Barton was born, in the State of
Massachusetts. Besides the parents, there were two grown-up sisters and
two big brothers to pet the new baby. There was plenty of love and
plenty of money in the Barton household, so the child knew nothing but
happiness.

Clara was a bright little thing. As she grew old enough to walk and
talk, she followed the family about, repeating all their words and
phrases like a parrot. She was not sure as to the meaning of all these
words, but she liked the sound of them. Her father, who had fought in
the French and Indian wars, had a fondness for the rules and forms that
are used among soldiers. He taught her the names and rank of army
officers. Also the name of the United States' president, the
vice-president, and members of the president's cabinet.

Clara's eyes looked so big, and her voice was so solemn when she babbled
these names that her mother asked her one day what she thought these men
looked like. "Oh," gasped Clara, "Papa always says 'the great president'
so I guess he's almost a giant. I guess the president is as big as the
meeting-house, and prob'ly the vice-president is the size of the
school-house."

The school-teacher sisters were busy with Clara so that she was reading
and spelling almost as soon as she could talk. One of these gave her a
geography, and Clara was so excited over it that she used to wake this
poor sister up long before daylight, and make her hold a candle close to
the maps so that she could find rivers, mountains, and cities.

Stephen Barton, the older brother, was a wonder in arithmetic. It was he
who taught Clara how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide. She made
such good figures and so often had the examples right that she enjoyed
her little slate next best to riding horseback with her brother David.

David did not care much for study, but did like farm work and horses. He
taught Clara to ride, and the two used to gallop across the country at a
mad pace. She felt as safe on the back of a horse as in a rocking-chair.
She did not look much larger than a doll when the neighbors first
noticed her dashing by on the back of a colt which wore neither saddle
nor bridle, clinging to the animal's mane, keeping close to David's
horse, and laughing with joy. Sometimes Button, the white dog, tore
along after them, trying his best to