to Missouri in the early thirties; I do not remember
just when, for I was not born then, and cared nothing for such things.
It was a long journey in those days, and must have been a rough and
tiresome one. The home was made in the wee village of Florida, in Monroe
county, and I was born there in 1835. The village contained a hundred
people and I increased the population by one per cent. It is more than
the best man in history ever did for any other town. It may not be
modest in me to refer to this, but it is true. There is no record of a
person doing as much--not even Shakespeare. But I did it for Florida,
and it shows that I could have done it for any place--even London, I
suppose.

Recently some one in Missouri has sent me a picture of the house I was
born in. Heretofore I have always stated that it was a palace, but I
shall be more guarded, now.

I remember only one circumstance connected with my life in it. I
remember it very well, though I was but two and a half years old at the
time. The family packed up everything and started in wagons for
Hannibal, on the Mississippi, thirty miles away. Toward night, when they
camped and counted up the children, one was missing. I was the one. I
had been left behind. Parents ought always to count the children before
they start. I was having a good enough time playing by myself until I
found that the doors were fastened and that there was a grisly deep
silence brooding over the place. I knew, then, that the family were
gone, and that they had forgotten me. I was well frightened, and I made
all the noise I could, but no one was near and it did no good. I spent
the afternoon in captivity and was not rescued until the gloaming had
fallen and the place was alive with ghosts.

My brother Henry was six months old at that time. I used to remember his
walking into a fire outdoors when he was a week old. It was remarkable
in me to remember a thing like that, which occurred when I was so young.
And it was still more remarkable that I should cling to the delusion,
for thirty years, that I _did_ remember it--for of course it never
happened; he would not have been able to walk at that age. If I had
stopped to reflect, I should not have burdened my memory with that
impossible rubbish so long. It is believed by many people that an
impression deposited in a child's memory within the first two years of
its life cannot remain there five years, but that is an error. The
incident of Benvenuto Cel