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the west window-seat in Pearson's parlor there was an Æolian harp. For several years this had been a source of delight to Ruth, who never tired of the sweet sounds issuing therefrom when the soft breezes breathed upon its strings. From it she had received a few crude ideas of harmony, just as the metrical version of the Psalms had given her an idea of versification. The two had made her a poetess in a primitive way, and after a fashion a musician. Her thoughts would often run to rhyme, and she would startle her hearers with giving expression to her thoughts, as though humming an old song. It was this strange habit, which grew upon her as the years rolled by, that caused her cousin Robert to nickname her the "Quaker Fairie," with long-drawn emphasis on the final syllable.