OUR MOTHER'S ROOM. 39 



bruises, burns, found suitable bandages in the bulya- 

 ment-box. Sails for toy-boats, patches for quilts, covers 

 for torn books, came out of that wonderful receptacle. 

 And the most wonderful thing about it was, that though 

 constant demand was made upon it the bulyament- 

 box never was less than full of scraps. 



Our mother was once asked to solve this riddle, and 

 she said, laughing, " You wear and make rags and 

 scraps as fast as you want them ! " 



Less important in the children's estimation than the 

 bureau and the bulyament-box, but doubtless dearer 

 to our mother than both, was the " Biiest." This was 

 an oval box, prettily carved and stitched (as it were) 

 together by withes. The bottom was neatly fitted in a 

 groove, the lid was kept in place by an ingenious con- 

 trivance of sticks. There was not a nail in it, and 

 the Biiest was of Norwegian manufacture. In it our 

 mother kept her baby-gear. Some of the caps and 

 dresses were much the worse of wear, having enfolded 

 one after another eleven " Troublesome pleasures " (as 

 she laughingly styled all babies). 



The christening robe had been one of her wedding- 

 gowns, and was made of finest " lauri," richly em- 

 broidered. Some of those white garments had gone 

 into coffins with the fair small bodies that she had 

 borne and loved. So the Biiest had a cherished place 

 in our mother's room. 



The first defined recollections which remain with 

 me, from the visionary life of early childhood, are the 

 following. Our mother sat in her old arm-chair by 



