rama　occupied　the　stage　of　her　inner　world。　Her　onebaby…voice　served　a　multitude　of　imaginary　personages；　old　andyoung；　to　talk　withal。　The　pine…trees；　aged；　black　and　solemn；　andflinging　groans　and　other　melancholy　utterances　on　the　breeze；needed　little　transformation　to　figure　as　Puritan　elders；　theugliest　weeds　of　the　garden　were　their　children；　whom　Pearl　smote　downand　uprooted；　most　unmercifully。　It　was　wonderful；　the　vast　variety　offorms　into　which　she　threw　her　intellect；　with　no　continuity；indeed；　but　darting　up　and　dancing；　always　in　a　state　of　preternaturalactivity…　soon　sinking　down；　as　if　exhausted　by　so　rapid　andfeverish　a　tide　of　life…　and　succeeded　by　other　shapes　of　a　similarwild　energy。　It　was　like　nothing　so　much　as　the　phantasmagoric　play　ofthe　northern　lights。　In　the　mere　exercise　of　the　fancy；　however；　andthe　sportiveness　of　a　growing　mind；　there　might　be　little　more　thanwas　observable　in　other　children　of　bright　faculties；　except　as　Pearl；in　the　dearth　of　human　playmates；　was　thrown　more　upon　the　visionarythrong　which　she　created。　The　singularity　lay　in　the　hostilefeelings　with　which　the　child　regarded　all　these　offspring　of　herown　heart　and　mind。　She　never　created　a　friend；　but　seemed　always　tobe　sowing　broadcast　the　dragon's　teeth；　whence　sprung　a　harvest　ofarmed　enemies；　against　whom　she　rushed　to　battle。　It　was　inexpressiblysad…　then　what　depth　of　sorrow　to　a　mother；　who　felt　in　her　ownheart　the　cause！…　to　observe；　in　one　so　young；　this　constantrecog