with stitches
so tiny they scarcely can be distinguished. An early teacher was a
cousin, Nancy Howe,[4] who was followed by another cousin, Sarah
Anthony, a graduate of Rensselaer Quaker boarding-school. Among the
teachers was Mary Perkins, just graduated from Miss Grant's seminary at
Ipswich, Mass., and a pupil of Mary Lyon, founder of Mt. Holyoke. She
was their first fashionably educated teacher and taught them to recite
poems in concert, introduced school books with pictures, little black
illustrations of Old Dog Tray, Mary and Her Lamb, etc., and gave them
their first idea of calisthenics. She loved music, and wished to attend
the village singing-school. Lucy Anthony sympathized with this desire
and interceded for her, but Daniel decided it would be setting a bad
example to the children and they would be wanting to sing.[5]
Into this commodious home Lucy Anthony brought her aged father and
mother, and carefully tended them until the death of both within the
same year, aged eighty-four. In May, 1834, came the first great sorrow,
the death of little Eliza, aged two years, and the mother was
heart-broken. Her life was centered in her children, and she could not
be reconciled to giving up even one. After her own death, nearly fifty
years later, in her box of most sacredly guarded keepsakes, was found a
little faded pink dress of the dear child's which many times had been
moistened with the mother's tears.
The children continued to attend this private school, and as Guelma and
Susan reached the age of fifteen, each in turn was installed as teacher
in summer when there were only young pupils. The factory now was at the
height of prosperity; there was only one larger in all that part of the
country, and Daniel Anthony was looked upon as a wealthy man. He was
much criticised for allowing his daughters to teach, as in those days
no woman worked for wages except from pressing necessity; but he was
far enough in advance of his time to believe that every girl should be
trained to self-support. In 1837, writing to Guelma at boarding-school,
he urges her to accept the offer of the principal to remain through the
winter as an assistant:
I am fully of the belief that shouldst thou never teach school a
single day afterwards, thou wouldst ever feel to justify thy
course.... Thou wouldst seem to me to be laying the foundation for
thy far greater usefulness. Thy remaining through the winter, must,
however, be
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