Diary of Anna Green Winslow | Page 2

what
Anna terms "sisters of the Old South," and nine tenths of the names of
her companions and friends may be found on the baptismal and
membership records of that church.
Anna was an industrious little wight, active in all housewifely labors
and domestic accomplishments, and attentive to her lessons. She could
make "pyes," and fine network; she could knit lace, and spin linen
thread and woolen yarn; she could make purses, and embroider
pocket-books, and weave watch strings, and piece patchwork. She
learned "dansing, or danceing I should say," from one Master Turner;
she attended a sewing school, to become a neat and deft little
sempstress, and above all, she attended a writing school to learn that
most indispensable and most appreciated of eighteenth century

accomplishments--fine writing. Her handwriting, of which a fac-simile
is here shown, was far better than that of most girls of twelve to-day;
with truth and justice could Anna say, "Aunt says I can write pretily."
Her orthography was quite equal to that of grown persons of her time,
and her English as good as that of Mercy Warren, her older
contemporary writer.
And let me speak also of the condition of her diary. It covers
seventy-two pages of paper about eight inches long by six and a half
inches wide. The writing is uniform in size, every letter is perfectly
formed; it is as legible as print, and in the entire diary but three blots
can be seen, and these are very small. A few pages were ruled by the
writer, the others are unruled. The old paper, though heavy and good,
is yellow with age, and the water marks C.F.R. and the crown stand out
distinctly. The sheets are sewed in a little book, on which a marbled
paper cover has been placed, probably by a later hand than Anna's.
Altogether it is a remarkably creditable production for a girl of twelve.
It is well also to compare her constant diligence and industry displayed
to us through her records of a day's work--and at another time, of a
week's work--with that of any girl of her age in a corresponding station
of life nowadays. We learn that physical pain or disability were no
excuse for slothfulness; Anna was not always well--had heavy colds,
and was feverish; but well or ill was always employed. Even with
painful local afflictions such as a "whitloe," she still was industrious,
"improving it to perfect myself in learning to spin flax." She read
much--the Bible constantly--and also found amusement in reading "a
variety of composures."
She was a friendly little soul, eager to be loved; resenting deeply that
her Aunt Storer let "either one of her chaises, her chariot or babyhutt,"
pass the door every day, without sending for her; going cheerfully
tea-drinking from house to house of her friends; delighting even in the
catechising and the sober Thursday Lecture. She had few amusements
and holidays compared with the manifold pleasures that children have
nowadays, though she had one holiday which the Revolution struck
from our calendar--the King's Coronation Day. She saw the Artillery

Company drill, and she visited brides and babies and old folks, and
attended some funerals. When she was twelve years old she "came
out"--became a "miss in her teens"--and went to a succession of prim
little routs or parties, which she called "constitutions." To these
decorous assemblies girls only were invited,--no rough Boston boys.
She has left to us more than one clear, perfect picture of these formal
little routs in the great low-raftered chamber, softly alight with candles
on mantel-tree and in sconces; with Lucinda, the black maid, "shrilly
piping;" and rows of demure little girls of Boston Brahmin blood, in
high rolls and feathers, discreetly partaking of hot and cold punch, and
soberly walking and curtsying through the minuet; fantastic in costume,
but proper and seemly in demeanor, models of correct deportment as
were their elegant mammas.
But Anna was not solemn; she was always happy, and often merry--full
of life and wit. She jested about getting a "fresh seasoning with Globe
salt," and wrote some labored jokes and some unconscious ones home
to her mother. She was subject to "egregious fits of laughterre," and
fully proved the statement, "Aunt says I am a whimsical child." She was
not beautiful. Her miniature is now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott of
Niagara Falls, the great grand-daughter of General John Winslow, and
a copy is shown in the frontispiece. It displays a gentle, winning little
face, delicate in outline, as is also the figure, and showing some hint
also of delicacy of constitution. It may be imagination to think that it is
plainly the face of one who could never live to be old--a face typical of
youth.
Let us glance at the stock from