more of her. Fine hair and teeth, vivacious eyes, and a peculiarly
graceful carriage of the head and neck were points which redeemed her
from the charge of plainness. This face of hers was, indeed, somewhat
problematic in its expression, which carried with it the assurance of
great possibilities, but not the certainty of their fulfilment. Her
conversation was already brilliant and full of interest, with a
satirical turn which became somewhat modified in after life. Dr. Hedge
fixes her stay in the Groton school at the years 1824, 1825, and
mentions her indulgence in sarcasm as a source of trouble to her in a
school earlier attended, that of Dr. Park, of Boston.

In the year 1826 his slight acquaintance with her grew into a friendship
which, as we have said, ended only with her life. During the seven years
that followed he had abundant occasion to note her steady growth and the
intensity of her inner life. This was with her, as with most young
persons, "a period of romance and of dreams, of yearning and of
passion." He thinks that she did not at this time pursue any systematic
study. "She read with the heart, and was learning more from social
experience than from books." One leading trait of her life was already
prominent. This was a passionate love of all beauties, both in nature
and in art.

If not corresponding to a scholar's idea of systematic study, Margaret's
pursuit of culture in those years must have been arduous and many-sided.
This we may partly gather from the books named and the themes touched
upon in her correspondence with the beloved teacher who had brought her
such near and tender help in her hour of need. To this lady, in a
letter dated July 11, 1825, Margaret rehearses the routine of her daily
life:--

"I rise a little before five, walk an hour, and then practise on the
piano till seven, when we breakfast. Next I read French, Sismondi's
'Literature of the South of Europe,' till eight, then two or three
lectures in Brown's Philosophy. About half-past nine I go to Mr.
Perkins's school and study Greek till twelve, when, the school being
dismissed, I recite, go home, and practise again till dinner, at two.
Sometimes, if the conversation is very agreeable, I lounge for half an
hour over the dessert, though rarely so lavish of time. Then, when I
can, I read two hours in Italian, but I am often interrupted. At six I
walk or take a drive. Before going to bed I play or sing for half an
hour, and about eleven r