[3] from the nursery to the sitting-room one Sabbath morning, and her pleasant voice saying after us, “ Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, children.”Another remembrance is this: mother was an enthusiastic horticulturist in all the small ways that limited means allowed. Her brother John in New York had just sent her a small parcel of fine tulip-bulbs. I remember rummaging these out of an obscure corner of the nursery one day when she was gone out, and being strongly seized with the idea that they were good to eat, using all the little English I then possessed to persuade my brothers that these were onions such as grown people ate and would be very nice for us. So we fell to and devoured the whole, and I recollect being somewhat disappointed in the odd sweetish taste, and thinking that onions were not so nice as I had supposed. Then mother's serene face appeared at the nursery door and we all ran towards her, telling with one voice of our discovery and achievement. We had found a bag of onions and had eaten them all up.
Also I remember that there was not even a momentary expression of impatience, but that she sat down and said, “My dear children, what you have done makes mamma very sorry. Those were not onions but roots of beautiful flowers, and if you had let them alone we should have next summer in the garden great beautiful red and yellow flowers such as you never saw.” I remember how drooping and dispirited we all grew at this picture, and how sadly we regarded the empty paper bag.
Then I have a recollection of her reading aloud to the children Miss Edgeworth's “ Frank,” which had just
