ook?"

I replied, "No; I wrote it myself."

"Then why did you not read your own?"

"We agreed to change," said I.

"Did you know that Miss ---- had copied that from the book of another
young lady?"

"No, not until I was accused of doing it myself before the whole
school."

"Why did you not defend yourself on the spot?"

"I could not speak, neither did I know what to say."

"Why have you allowed yourself to remain in such a false position for a
whole week?"

"I do not know."

"Suppose I had not found this out, did you intend to keep silent?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Did Miss ---- ask you to do so?"

"Yes."

I had been a great favorite with this teacher, but she was so disgusted
with my stupidity, as she called my timidity, that she said:

"Really, my child, you have not acted in this matter as if you had
ordinary common sense."

So little do grown people, in familiar surroundings, appreciate the
confusion of a child's faculties, under new and trying experiences. When
poor Miss ----'s turn came to stand up before the whole school and take
the burden on her own shoulders she had so cunningly laid on mine, I
readily shed the tears for her I could not summon for myself. This was
my first sad lesson in human duplicity.

This episode, unfortunately, destroyed in a measure my confidence in my
companions and made me suspicious even of those who came to me with
appreciative words. Up to this time I had accepted all things as they
seemed on the surface. Now I began to wonder what lay behind the visible
conditions about me. Perhaps the experience was beneficial, as it is
quite necessary for a young girl, thrown wholly on herself for the first
time among strangers, to learn caution in all she says and does. The
atmosphere of home life, where all disguises and pretensions are thrown
off, is quite different from a large school of girls, with the petty
jealousies and antagonisms that arise in daily competition in their
dress, studies, accomplishments, and amusements.

The next happening in Troy that seriously influenced my character was
the advent of the Rev. Charles G. Finney, a pulpit orator, who, as a
terrifier of human souls, proved himself the equal of Savonarola. He
held a protracted meeting in the Rev. Dr. Beaman's church, which many of
my schoolmates attended. The result of six weeks of untiring effort on
the part of Mr. Finney and his confreres was one of those intense
revival seasons that swept over the c