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about my own lifethat what I felt and thought was far more real to me than the things that happened。
Circumstances are only the keys that unlock for us the secret of ourselves； and I learned very early that though there is much to enjoy in this beautiful outside world； there is much more to love； to believe in； and to seek； in the invisible world out of which it all grows。 What has best revealed our true selves to ourselves must be most helpful to others； and one can willingly sacrifice some natural reserves to such an end。 Besides； if we tell our own story at all； we naturally wish to tell the truest part of it。
Work； study； and worship were interblended in our life。 The church was really the home…centre to many； perhaps to most of us； and it was one of the mill regulations that everybody should go to church somewhere。 There must have been an earnest group of ministers at Lowell； since nearly all the girls attended public worship from choice。
Our minister joined us in our social gatherings； often inviting us to his own house； visiting us at our work； accompanying us on our picnics down the river…bank；a walk of a mile or so took us into charmingly picturesque scenery； and we always walked； suggesting books for our reading； and assisting us in our studies。
The two magazines published by the mill…girls； the 〃Lowell Offering〃 and the 〃Operatives' Magazine；〃 originated with literary meetings in the vestry of two religious societies； the first in the Universalist Church； the second in the First Congregational； to which my sister and I belonged。
On account of our belonging there； our contributions were given to the 〃Operatives' Magazine；〃 the first periodical for which I ever wrote； issued by the literary society of which our minister took charge。 He met us on regular evenings； read aloud our poems and sketches； and made such critical suggestions as he thought desirable。 This magazine was edited by two young women； both of whom had been employed in the mills； although at that time the were teachers in the public schoolsa change which was often made by mill…girls after a few months' residence at Lowell。 A great many of them were district…school teachers at their homes in the summer； spending only the winters at their work。
The two magazines went on side by side for a year or two； and then were united in the 〃Lowell Offering〃 which had made the first experiment of the kind by publishing a trial number or two at irregular intervals。 My sister had sent some verses of mine； on request； to be published in one of those specimen numbers。 But we were not acquainted with the editor of the 〃Offering；〃 and we knew only a few of its contributors。 The Universalist Church； in the vestry of which they met； was in a distant part of the city。 Socially； the place where we worshiped was the place where we naturally came together in other ways。 The churches were all filled to overflowing； so that the grouping together of the girls by their denominational preferences was almost unavoidable。 It was in some such way as this that two magazines were started instead of one。 If the girls who enjoyed writing had not been so many and so scattered； they might have made the better arrange… ment of joining their forces from the beginning。
I was too young a contributor to be at first of much value to either periodical。 They began their regular issues； I think； while I was the nursemaid of my little nephews at Beverly。 When I returned to Lowell； at about sixteen； I found my sister Emilie interested in the 〃Operatives' Magazine；〃 and we both contributed to it regularly； until it was merged in the 〃Lowell Offering；〃 to which we then transferred our writing efforts。 It did not occur to us to call these efforts 〃literary。〃 I know that I wrote just as I did for our little 〃Diving Bell；〃as a sort of pastime； and because my daily toil was mechanical； and furnished no occupation for my thoughts。 Perhaps the fact that most of us wrote in this way accounted for the rather sketchy and fragmentary character of our 〃Magazine。〃 It gave evidence that we thought； and that we thought upon solid and serious matters； but the criticism of one of our superintendents upon it； very kindly given； was undoubtedly just： 〃It has plenty of pith； but it lacks point。
The 〃Offering〃 had always more of the literary spirit and touch。 It was； indeed； for the first two years； edited by a gentleman of acknowledged literary ability。 But people seemed to be more interested in it after it passed entirely into the bands of the girls themselves。
The 〃Operatives' Magazine〃 had a decidedly religious tone。 We who wrote for it were loyal to our Puritanic antecedents； and considered it all…important that our lightest actions should be moved by some earnest impulse from behind。 We might write playfully； but there must be conscience and reverence somewhere within it all。 We had been taught； and we believed； that idle words were a sin； whether spoken or written。 This； no doubt； gave us a gravity of expression rather unnatural to youth。
In looking over the bound volume of this magazine； I am amused at the grown…up style of thought assumed by myself； probably its very youngest contributor。 I wrote a dissertation on 〃Fame；〃 quoting from Pollok； Cowper； and Milton； and ending with Diedrich Knickerbocker's definition of immortal fame；〃Half a page of dirty paper。〃 For other titles I had 〃Thoughts on Beauty；〃 〃Gentility；〃 〃Sympathy；〃 etc。 And in one longish poem； entitled 〃My Childhood〃 （written when I was about fifteen）； I find verses like these； which would seem to have come out of a mature experience：
My childhood！ O those pleasant days； when everything seemed free； And in the broad and verdant fields I frolicked merrily； When joy came to my bounding heart with every wild bird's song； And Nature's music in my ears was ringing all day long！
And yet I would not call them back； those blessed times of yore； For riper years are fraught with joys I dreamed not of before。 The labyrinth of Science opes with wonders every day； And friendship hath full many a flower to cheer life's dreary way。
And glancing through the pages of the 〃Lowell Offering〃 a year or two later； I see that I continued to dismalize myself at times； quite unnecessarily。 The title of one sting of morbid verses is 〃The Complaint of a Nobody；〃 in which I compare myself to a weed growing up in a garden； and the conclusion of it all is this stanza：
〃When the fierce storms are raging； I will not repine； Though I'm heedlessly crushed in the strife； For surely 't were better oblivion were mine Than a worthless； inglorious life。
Now I do not suppose that I really considered myself a weed； though I did sometimes fancy that a different kind of cultivation would tend to make me a more useful plant。 I am glad to remember that these discontented fits were only occasional； for certainly they were unreasonable。 I was not unhappy； this was an affect… ation of unhappiness； and half conscious that it was； I hid it behind a different signature from my usual one
How truly Wordsworth describes this phase of undeveloped feeling：
〃In youth sad fancies we affect； In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness。〃
It is a very youthful weakness to exaggerate passing moods into deep experiences； and if we put them down on paper； we get a fine opportunity of laughing at ourselves； if we live to outgrow them； as most of us do。 I think I must have had a frequent fancy that I was not long for this world。 Perhaps I thought an early death rather picturesque； many young people do。 There is a certain kind of poetry that fosters this idea； that delights in imaginary youthful victims； and has； reciprocally； its youthful devotees。 One of my blank verse poems in the 〃Offering〃 is entitled 〃The Early Doomed。〃 It begins；
And must I die？ The world is bright to me； And everything that looks upon me； smiles。
Another poem is headed 〃Memento Mori；〃 and another； entitled a 〃Song in June；〃 which ought to be cheerful； goes off into the doleful request to somebody； or anybody； to
Weave me a shroud in the month of June！
I was； perhaps； healthier than the average girl； and had no predisposition to a premature decline； and in reviewing these absurdities of my pen； I feel like saying to any young girl who inclines to rhyme； 〃Don't sentimentalize！〃 Write more of what you see than of what you feel； and let your feelings realize themselves to others in the shape of worthy actions。 Then they will be natural； and will furnish you with something worth writing。〃
It is fair to myself to explain； however； that many of these verses of mine were written chiefly as exercises in rhythmic expression。 I remember this distinctly about one of my poems with a terrible title；〃The Murderer's Request；〃in which I made an imaginary criminal pose for me； telling where he would not and where be would like to be buried。 I modeled my verses；
〃Bury ye me on some storm…rifted mountain； O'erhaliging the depths of a yawning abyss；〃
upon Byron's；
〃Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime；〃
and I was only trying to see how near I could approach to his exquisite metre。 I do not think I