Ten American Girls from History

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

"And your mother?" queried her new friend.

Tears dimmed the young girl's eyes. "There aren't any words to express mother," she said. "That is why I am trying to work at night, or at least part of the reason," she added, with frank honesty. "We take boarders and mother teaches in a private school, too, but even that doesn't give enough money for six of us to live on, and she is so pale and tired all the time." She added, with a toss of her curly head: "And I must have money to buy books, too, but helping mother is more important."

Entirely absorbed in her own narrative now, she continued to pour out a flood of facts with such an eloquence and persuasive use of words that her hearer was lost in amazement over a young girl who was so fluent in her use of language. From her frank tale he gathered that she had been a wayward, wilful, intense, and very imaginative child, who, despite her evident devotion to her mother, had probably given her many hours of worry and unhappiness. It was evident also that as a younger child she had been considered an incorrigible pupil at school, for she seemed to have always rebelled against discipline which she thought unnecessary.

"They could punish me all they liked," she said, with flashing eyes. "I would never obey a rule that had not been explained to me and that wasn't fair—never! Teachers and mothers were always telling good little girls not to play with me, and I was glad! Girls the teachers call 'good' sometimes are not that at all; they just know how to hide things from the teachers." As her hearer made no comment, but listened with an amused smile curving his lips, Anna continued: "I adore books, but, oh, how I hate school, when the rich girls laugh at my clothes and then at me if I tell them that my mother is poor and we work for all we have! It isn't fair, because we can't help it, and we do the best we can. I never would say it to them in the world—never! In the first school I went to they used to tease the children who were timid, and bother them so much that they would forget their lessons and get punished when it was not their fault. But I looked after them," declared Anna, proudly. "I fought their battles for them, until the others left them alone, because they were afraid to fight me, I was so strong. Oh, sir," she cried, "why can't people always be fair and square, I wonder?"

As if mesmerized by the intensity of this remarkable young reformer, the lawyer found himself repeating, "I wonder!" as if he had no opinions on the subject, but at the same time he was doing some thinking in regard to such a unique character as this one before him. When she had finished speaking he rose and put a bundle of work in her hand. "I will help you and your brave mother all I can," he said. "While you are doing that copying I will speak to other lawyers, who, I am sure, will give you more to do. I have looked over what you have done, and can warmly recommend you as a copyist. I hope we shall have many more long talks together."

So with her package under her arm, and a warm feeling of satisfaction in her heart because she had found a new friend who said she could do good work, she hurried home.

Almost from baby days it had been evident that Anna Dickinson was no ordinary child, and how to curb the restless spirit and develop the strong nature into a fine woman was a great problem for the already over-burdened mother. Even as a young child Anna had an iron will, and discipline, of which she later learned the value, so chafed her independent nature that she was generally in a state of rebellion. From her own story it was clear that she must have been a terror to unjust teachers or pupils; but she did not mention the many devoted friends she had gained by her championship of those who were not being treated fairly according to her ideas. Hers was a strong, talented, courageous, fearless nature, which was bound to be a great power for good or evil. The scales were turned in the right direction by her passionate love for her mother and an intense desire to lift some of the burden of financial worry from her shoulders, as she saw Mrs. Dickinson, with tireless industry, struggle to make ends meet, and to feed, clothe, and educate her fatherless children. Her one determination was to have them grow up into noble men and women, but in Anna's early life it seemed as if the tumultuous nature would never be brought to any degree of poise and self-control. She showed a marked love of books, even when she was only seven years old, and would take one of her mother's volumes of Byron's poems and, hiding under a bed, where she would not be disturbed, read for hours.

When she was about twelve years old Anna went to the "Westover Boarding-school of Friends," where she remained for almost two years, and from which she went to the "Friends' Select School" in Philadelphia, where she was still studying when she applied for copying and found a new friend. Both of the schools were free Quaker schools, as her mother could not afford to send her elsewhere, and in both she stood high for scholarship, if not for deportment. In the latter institution she was noted for never failing in a recitation, although she was taking twelve subjects at one time, and was naturally looked upon with awe and admiration by less brilliant pupils. A new scholar once questioned her as to her routine of work, and the reply left her questioner speechless with wonder.

"Oh, I haven't any," said Anna, with a toss of her curly head. "And I don't study. I just go to bed and read, sometimes till one o'clock in the morning—poetry, novels, and all sorts of things; then just before I go to sleep I look my lessons over." Evidently the new-comer was a bit doubtful of being able to follow her leader, for Anna added, reassuringly: "Oh yes, you can, if you try. It's easy when you get the habit!" and went off, leaving a much-amazed girl behind her.

At the time of her visit to the lawyer's office Anna begged to be allowed to leave school to try and add to the family income, but her practical mother persuaded her not to do this for at least a year or so, and, seeing the wisdom of the advice, Anna remained in the "Friends' School." So active was her mind that for weeks at a time she did not sleep over five hours a night; the remaining time she spent in doing all the copying she could get and in reading every book on which she could lay her hands. Newspapers, speeches, tracts, history, biography, poetry, novels and fairy-tales—she devoured them all with eager interest. A favorite afternoon pastime of hers was to go to the Anti-Slavery Office, where, curled up in a cozy corner, she would read their literature or listen to arguments on the subject presented by persons who came and went. At other times she would be seized with a perfect passion for a new book, and would go out into the streets, determined not to return home until she had earned enough to buy the coveted prize. At such a time she would run errands or carry bundles or bags for passengers coming from trains until she had enough money for her book. Then she would hurry to a bookstore, linger long and lovingly over the piles of volumes, and finally buy one, which she would take home and devour, then take it to a second-hand bookshop and sell it for a fraction of what it cost, and get another.