The Path of Duty | Page 5

education might prove of more value to me than money, so a portion of
the money was drawn, and we began the preparations for my departure
from home. It was the high reputation which the school sustained that
influenced my mother in her decision to send me so far from home.
There was a lady residing in the near vicinity of the school who had
been a loved school-mate of my mother in their youthful days. My
mother wrote to her upon the subject and received a very friendly reply,
informing her that, owing to their own early friendship, she would be
most happy to fill a mother's place to me, so long as I should wish to
remain at school. I should have been much elated at the proposed
journey had it not been for the thought of leaving my mother, who had
ever been my confidant and adviser. My mother also felt keenly the
coming departure, although she strove to conceal her feelings as much
as possible. I strongly objected to leaving her alone, but we had as yet
been unable to devise any plan to avoid so doing. My mother would
have rented a portion of our dwelling, but it was not adapted for the
convenience of two families, neither could she endure the disquiet of
keeping boarders.
"Clara," said my mother one day, as we sat at work, "I think I will send
for Aunt Patience to come and stay with me during your absence."
She laughed outright at the look of dismay with which I regarded her,

occasioned by the recollection which I retained of a visit she paid us
when I was eight years of age. She was a maiden lady somewhat
advanced in years, possessed of a very kind heart and many excellent
qualities; but the name of Patience seemed to me a misapplication in
her case, for she certainly possessed but a small quantity of that
valuable article. Early in life she had passed through many trials, which
might have tended to sour her disposition. I remember that during the
visit referred to, my mother had occasion to spend a day from home,
leaving me in care of Aunt Patience. It seemed a very long day to me.
Like all children, I was restless and troublesome, and to one
unaccustomed to the care of children it was doubtless very annoying.
During the day I received a severe box on the ear from Aunt Patience,
for saying to her in an outburst of childish anger, when provoked by her
continued fault-finding,
"I don't know what makes them call you Aunt Patience, for you scold
all the time."
She informed my mother of it upon her return, and she gave me a
reproof for allowing myself to speak disrespectfully to my relative;
although, while listening to the relation of the difficulty by Aunt
Patience, she found it extremely difficult to repress a smile. However,
my mother both loved and respected her, and thought she could live
very comfortably with her during my absence; indeed my mother
thought her quite a desirable companion, for, setting aside her
irritability at petty annoyances, she was a woman of good sense, and
was well informed upon most subjects, so I gladly joined in the
invitation which my mother sent her, to come and make our house her
home for an indefinite period. As she lived only a day's journey by
railway from Philadelphia, she arrived a week before I left home. She
did not like the idea of my mother spending so much money in sending
me to school. To all of her remarks upon the subject my mother replied
pleasantly, for she was her own aunt, and she would not treat her with
disrespect. During the few days I remained at home after her arrival, I
formed a much more favorable opinion of Aunt Patience than I had
done during her visit in the days of my childhood; and when I observed
how kind she was to my mother I found it easy to love her.

I felt very sad the morning I bade adieu to my mother and Aunt
Patience, to go into the world alone. My mother had before given me
many kind counsels regarding my future conduct, now she only said, as
she embraced me at parting, "My dear daughter, I trust you will
improve your time and talents, and conduct yourself in a manner that
will not disappoint your mother." As Aunt Patience bade me good-bye,
she said, with a countenance of much solemnity, "You must remember,
Clara, all the advice I have given you." Sad as I felt, I could not repress
a smile, for during the past week her advices regarding my future
conduct had been so numerous, that it would have required