When Miss Dwight asked me to read my poem to the class on the day of celebration, I readily consented.

It was not in me to refuse a chance to tell my schoolmates what I thought of George Washington.
I was not a heroic figure when I stood up in front of the class to pronounce the praises of the Father of his Country.

Thin, pale, and hollow, with a shadow of short black curls on my brow, and the staring look of prominent eyes, I must have looked more frightened than imposing.

My dress added no grace to my appearance.

"Plaids" were in fashion, and my frock was of a red-and-green "plaid" that had a ghastly effect on my complexion.