t--such may be
the snobbery of extreme youth--I not only failed quite to rise to the
parental reasoning, but made out in it rather a certain sophistry; such
a prevarication for instance as if we had habitually said we kept the
carriage we observably didn't keep, kept it because we sent when we
wanted one to University Place, where Mr. Hathorn had his
livery-stable: a connection, this last, promoted by my father's
frequent need of the aid to circulate (his walks were limited through an
injury received in youth) and promoting in turn and at a touch, to my
consciousness, the stir of small, the smallest remembered things. I
recall the adventure, no infrequent one, of being despatched to Mr.
Hathorn to bespeak a conveyance, and the very air and odour, the genial
warmth, at a fine steaming Irish pitch, of the stables and their
stamping and backing beasts, their resounding boardedness, their chairs
tipped up at such an angle for lifted heels, a pair of which latter seek
the floor again, at my appeal, as those of big bearded Mr. Hathorn
himself: an impression enriched by the drive home in lolling and bumping
possession of the great vehicle and associated further with Sunday
afternoons in spring, with the question of distant Harlem and remoter
Bloomingdale, with the experience at one of these junctures of far-away
Hoboken, if it wasn't Williamsburg, which fits in fancifully somewhere;
when the carriage was reinforced by a ferry and the ferry by something,
something to my present vision very dim and dusty and archaic, something
quite ragged and graceless, in the nature of a public tea-garden and
ices. The finest link here, however, is, for some reason, with the New
York Hotel, and thereby with Albany uncles; thereby also with Mr.
Hathorn in person waiting and waiting expensively on his box before the
house and somehow felt as attuned to Albany uncles even as Mrs. Cannon
had subtly struck me as being.

Intenser than these vague shades meanwhile is my vision of the halls of
Ferrero--where the orgy of the senses and even the riot of the mind, of
which I have just spoken, must quite literally have led me more of a
dance than anywhere. Let this sketch of a lost order note withal that
under so scant a general provision for infant exercise, as distinguished
from infant ease, our hopping and sliding in tune had to be deemed
urgent. It was the sense for this form of relief that clearly was
general, superseding as the ampler Ferrero scene