Warner, Susan, 1819-1885, Daisy, 1868, Ward Lock edition n.d.
Produced by Daniel FROMONT
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
I want an excuse to myself for writing my own life; an excusefor the indulgence of going it all over again, as I have sooften gone over bits. It has not been more remarkable thanthousands of others. Yet every life has in it a thread ofpresent truth and possible glory. Let me follow out the truthto the glory.
The first bright years of my childhood I will pass. They werechildishly bright. They lasted till my eleventh summer. Thenthe light of heavenly truth was woven in with the web of mymortal existence; and whatever the rest of the web has been,those golden threads have always run through it all the restof the way. Just as I reached my birthday that summer and wasten years old, I became a Christian.
For the rest of that summer I was a glad child. The brightnessof those days is a treasure safe locked up in a chamber of mymemory. I have known other glad times too in my life; othertimes of even higher enjoyment. But among all the driedflowers of my memory, there is not one that keeps a fresherperfume or a stronger scent of its life than this one. Thosewere the days without cloud; before life shadows had begun tocast their blackness over the landscape. And even though suchshadows do go as well as come, and leave the intervals as sun-lit as ever; yet, after that change of the first life shadowis once seen, it is impossible to forget that it may comeagain and darken the sun. I do not mean that the days, of thatsummer were absolutely without things to trouble me; I hadchanges of light and shade; but on the whole, nothing that didnot heighten the light. They were pleasant days I had inJuanita's cottage at the time when my ankle was broken; therewere hours of sweetness with crippled Molly; and it was simplydelight I had all alone with my pony Loupe, driving over thesunny and shady roads, free to do as I liked and go where Iliked. And how I enjoyed studying English history with mycousin Preston. It is all stowed away in my heart, as freshand sweet as at first. I will not pull it out now. The change,and my first real life shadow came, when my father was thrownfrom his horse and injured his head. Then the doctors decidedhe must go abroad and travel, and mamma decided it was bestthat I should go t