The Harvest of Years

NEW YORK G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS 182 Fifth Avenue 1880
Copyright by G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS 1880
Old friends and other days have risen about me as I have written, recalling, through my pen, these treasured experiences; and the pictured characters are to me as real as earthly hands, whose touch we feel. I have written as the story runs, with no effort at adorning, and those who love me best will not bring to it the cold criticisms that may come from other readers. To illustrate the truth of a little leaven's leavening the whole lump has been my purpose, and if this purpose can be even partially achieved, I shall deem myself sufficiently rewarded. To those whom in previous years I have met in the field of my mission, whose heart-felt sympathy and interest became the tide which bore me on, as from public platform (as well as in private ways) I have, for truth's dear sake, been impelled to utterances, to these friends I may hope this volume will not come as a stranger, but that through it I may receive, as in the days gone by, the grasp of their friendly hands.
M.L.B.E.
New Haven, Conn., June , 1880.

Among my earliest recollections these three words have a place, coming to my ears as the presages of a reprimand. I had made a frantic effort to lift my baby-brother from his cradle, and had succeeded only in upsetting baby, pillows and all, waking my mother from her little nap, while brother Hal stood by and shouted, Emily did it. I was only five years of age at that eventful period, and was as indignant at the scolding I received when trying to do a magnanimous act, take care of baby and let poor, tired mother sleep, as I have been many times since, when, unluckily, I had upset somebody's dish, and Emily did it has rung its hateful sound in my ears. To say I was unlucky was not enough; I was untimely, unwarranted and unwanted, I often felt, in early years in everything I attempted, and the naturally quick temper I possessed was only aggravated and tortured into more harassing activity, rendering me on the whole, perhaps, not very amiable. Interesting I could not be, since whatever I attempted I seemed fated to say or do something to hurt somebody's feelings, and, mortified at my failures, I would draw myself closer to myself, shrinking from others, and saying again and again, Emily, why must you do it?