evidently was accustomed to see as much as of
the other stars in the heavens. Her mouth was resolute and full of
expression; but her remarkable feature was her eyes, which were dark and
powerful, and had the kindest and most magnetic look of comradeship
in them. Her dark hair was a little grizzled. She was dressed in plain
gray, and was active and energetic in her movements. She was, as the
world knows, a woman of unusual intellect and character; but she had
lived alone with her constellations, having little contact with the
world or practical knowledge of it, so that in many respects she was
still as much a child as I was, and I immediately knew her for my friend
and playmate and loved her with all my heart. There was a charming
quaintness and innocence about her, and an immense, healthy curiosity
about this new old world and its contents. She had a great flow of
native, spontaneous humor, and could say nothing that was not juicy
and poignant. She was old-fashioned, yet full of modern impulses and
tendencies; warmhearted and impulsive, but rich in homely common-sense.
Though bold as a lion, she was, nevertheless, beset with the funniest
feminine timidities and misgivings, due mainly, I suppose, to her
unfamiliarity with the ways of the world. There was already a friendship
of long standing between her and Miss Shepard, and they did much of
their sightseeing during the coming year together, and debated between
themselves over the statues and pictures. Her talk with us children was
of the fine, countrified, racy quality which we could not resist; and in
the evenings, as we journeyed along, she told us tales of the stars
and gave us their names. On the steamer going to Genoa, one night, she
pointed out to me the constellation Orion, then riding high aloft
in glittering beauty, and I kindly communicated to my parents the
information that the three mighty stars were known to men as O'Brien's
Belt. This was added to the ball of jolly as a household word.

[IMAGE: MARIA MITCHELL]

Miss Mitchell's trunk was contributed to our mountain, when we set
out anew on our pilgrimage, with a result at first deplorable, for the
number of our own pieces of luggage being known and registered in the
official documents, it turned out, at our first stopping-place, that
the trunk of our new companion had been substituted for one of our
own, which, of course, was left behind. It was ultimately recovered, I
believe, but it seemed as if the enti