[p. 19] but instead of the ‘Amen’ I expected, he would preach on and on, until I lost all faith in his veracity; still, I remember today parts of those same sermons to my advantage, though I must have been under twelve years old at the time. I am writing with the gold pen given to Mr. Blanchard by pupils of the high school for his willingness to write their names in school books in German text and on writing-book covers with the spread eagle and scroll flourishes they delighted in.. Among the school teachers who are held in loving remembrance today was Miss Ann Foster (afterward Mrs. Thomas Pratt). She was a real kindergarten mother, and fostered a brood of infants in the meeting-house vestry. A high, broad shelf ran across the west side of the room, where the tired youngsters had refreshing naps. A flight of low steps filled one end of the vestry, which we little folks ascended after marching around the room on nails driven into the floor for that purpose, and then had a fine time, singing,
This is the way we wash our clothes,suiting our actions to the words as nearly as possible. How time bridges over the passing years! I, at four years, seemed an infant to the big girls, and they like women to me, and yet today they are my associates and friends, with no disparity of ages. I remember later on how pleased I was to have Miss Foster tell me to take my first finished bit of sewing and show it to the older pupils and hear them say it was done very neatly. . . . Dr. Samuel Gregg then lived in the brick block, corner Salem street and Riverside avenue, over what is now Mr. Bartlett's store. Then Mr. Gilbert Blanchard kept a small grocery store there. Two of Dr. Gregg's daughters attended Miss Foster's school. . . . In unpleasant weather the doctor would come for them and take all the children to their homes. One snowy afternoon he
This is the way we iron our clothes,
This is the way the shoemaker sews,
etc., etc.
