of Middle and Lime
streets. My seat was next to hers and we were placed in the same
classes. Our homes were near each other on Franklin street, and we
always walked back and forth together. She was at this time a prolific
writer of notes. Sometimes she would meet me on Monday morning with not
less than four, written since we had parted on Saturday afternoon. She
used to complain now and then, that I wrote her only one to four or five
of hers to me. In the pleasant summer afternoons we loved to take long
walks together. One was down by the shore behind the eastern promenade.
Here we would find a sheltered nook, and with our backs to the world
and our faces toward the islands and the ocean, would sit in "rapt
enjoyment" of the scene, speaking scarcely a word, until one or the
other exclaimed with a long-drawn sigh: "Well, it is time for us to go
home."

Another of our places of resort was the old cemetery on Congress street,
which in those days was very retired. Our favorite spot here was the
summit of a tomb, which stood on the highest point in the grounds. It
was the old style of tomb--a broad marble slab, supported by six small
stone pillars on a stone foundation, and surrounded by two steps raised
above the soil. It was a very quiet retreat. We could hear the distant
hum of the city and at the same time enjoy a view of the water and
shipping, as the land sloped down toward the harbor. I remember well
that one dark spring day, as we sat there cuddled up under the broad
slab, Lizzy gave me an account of a book she had just been reading. It
was the Memoir of Miss Susanna Anthony, by old Dr. Hopkins, of Newport.
She told me what a good and holy woman Miss Anthony was, how much she
suffered and how beautifully she bore her sufferings. My sympathy was
strongly excited and I exclaimed, "I do not see how it is _right_ for
God, who can control all things, to permit such suffering!" Lizzy
replied very sweetly, "Well, Carrie, we can't understand it, but I have
been thinking that this _might_ be God's way of preparing His children
for very high degrees of service on earth, or happiness in heaven." I
was deeply impressed with this remark; somehow it seemed to _stand by
me_, and I think it was a corner-stone of her faith.

This summer--that of 1833--her mother fitted up for her exclusive use
a small room called the "Blue Room," where she had all her books and
treasures--among them a writing desk which had been her father's. Here