r, for in the spring of
1852 my father made another change, taking his family to Lawrence,
Massachusetts, where we lived until 1859. The years in Lawrence were
interesting and formative ones. At the tender age of nine and ten I
became interested in the Abolition movement. We were Unitarians, and
General Oliver and many of the prominent citizens of Lawrence belonged
to the Unitarian Church. We knew Robert Shaw, who led the first negro
regiment, and Judge Storrow, one of the leading New England judges of
his time, as well as the Cabots and George A. Walton, who was the author
of Walton's Arithmetic and head of the Lawrence schools. Outbursts of
war talk thrilled me, and occasionally I had a little adventure of my
own, as when one day, in visiting our cellar, I heard a noise in the
coal-bin. I investigated and discovered a negro woman concealed there.
I had been reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, as well as listening to the
conversation of my elders, so I was vastly stirred over the negro
question. I raced up-stairs in a condition of awe-struck and quivering
excitement, which my mother promptly suppressed by sending me to bed. No
doubt she questioned my youthful discretion, for she almost convinced
me that I had seen nothing at all--almost, but not quite; and she wisely
kept me close to her for several days, until the escaped slave my father
was hiding was safely out of the house and away. Discovery of this
serious offense might have borne grave results for him.

It was in Lawrence, too, that I received and spent my first twenty-five
cents. I used an entire day in doing this, and the occasion was one of
the most delightful and memorable of my life. It was the Fourth of July,
and I was dressed in white and rode in a procession. My sister Mary, who
also graced the procession, had also been given twenty-five cents; and
during the parade, when, for obvious reasons, we were unable to break
ranks and spend our wealth, the consciousness of it lay heavily upon
us. When we finally began our shopping the first place we visited was a
candy store, and I recall distinctly that we forced the weary proprietor
to take down and show us every jar in the place before we spent one
penny. The first banana I ever ate was purchased that day, and I
hesitated over it a long time. Its cost was five cents, and in view of
that large expenditure, the eating of the fruit, I was afraid, would be
too brief a joy. I bought it, however, and the experience developed