becomingly arranged. Her eyes were large and gray, and when overcharged with expression, as was often the case, they deepened in colour until they seemed to be black. She was always daintily dressed, and even at fifteen succeeded in keeping closer to the fashions than was common in the community or in her own home. But in spite of these advantages Mary was not altogether attractive. Her manners and speech were marred by a peculiar affectation. Her unusual nervous organisation may have accounted for her self-consciousness and her susceptibility to the presence of others, but whatever the cause, Mary always seemed to be "showing off" for the benefit of those about her, and her extremely languishing manners were unkindly commented upon even at a time when languishing manners were fashionable. In speaking she used many words, the longer and more unusual the better, and her pronunciation and application of them were original.
Sarah Jane Bodwell, a daughter of the Congregational minister at Sanbornton Square, "kept" the school then, and finding Mary very backward in her studies in spite of her age and precociousness, she placed her in a class with small children. Mary seemed indifferent about getting into a more advanced class and did not apply herself. Her old schoolmates say that she was indolent and spent her time lolling in her seat or scribbling on her slate, and apparently was incapable of concentrated or continuous thought.
"I remember Mary Baker very well," said one of her classmates now living in Tilton. "She began to come to district school in the early summer of 1836. I recollect her very distinctly because she sat just in front of me, and because she
