School-Days in 1800 by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

MY life went on the even tenor of its way as I have described it till I was eleven years old. At this time I was large of my age, though not as strong in health as most of my school-mates, and I was farther advanced in my studies than I think most girls of eleven are nowadays. I could read, write, and spell English very well. I had gone as far as square root in arithmetic. I was parsing in Young's "Night Thoughts," and could give every rule in Murray's grammar by number and most of the notes to the same, and had written all the exercises. I had executed a marvellous sampler, and was now engaged on a fine white cambric flounce which was intended to contain a specimen of every known variety of satin-stitch, knot, and lace-stitch. I had grown rather superior to the attractions of dolls, and had made over to Ruth all my possessions in that line, always excepting my beautiful Lanesborough doll, which had to me the sacredness of a precious relic, and which I never meant to part with. I had become skilful in various house-keeping mysteries, and was considered an excellent spinner for my age.

I do not think my moral improvement had kept pace with my intellectual gain. I was very sensitive to praise and blame, very proud, and inclined to be jealous and to think myself ill-treated. At the same time, I was rather reserved; and instead of "telling everything right out," as Ruth did, I used to brood over and magnify my troubles till they assumed very large proportions.