from
brother Barnes, who was full of life and spirits, and always ready to
play, and from Arminda and myself; but brother Horace, not at all
allured by blind-man's-buff or a dance, would retire to a corner with a
pine knot (for in those days candles were few), preferring the
companionship of his book to our merry games. Coaxing was all in vain:
the only means of inducing him to join us was to snatch away his book
and hide it; but even then he preferred to gather us quietly about him
and tell us stories. I remember that before he left home he had
related to us, among other things, the thousand and one stories of the
'Arabian Nights,' and 'Robinson Crusoe.' This gift of story-telling he
inherited from mother, whose talent in that line certainly equalled
that of the beautiful Sultana Scheherazade herself. At this time,
although I had never seen a copy of Shakespeare, I was familiar with
the names and plots of all his imaginative, and many of his historical
plays, which mother would relate to us in her own words, embellished
now and then with bits of the original verse, as she sat at her
spinning-wheel, or busied herself about the household work.

"It was, I think, at this same time--our last year in Vermont--that a
large ball, for young people only, was given in our neighborhood. Much
speculation was excited among our young friends as to whether Horace
would dance at this ball, and especially if he would fetch a partner
with him. It was the general opinion that he would not, as he did not
bear a high reputation for gallantry. Great, then, was the
astonishment of all present when Horace entered the ballroom with Anne
Bush, the prettiest girl in the neighborhood, upon his arm. He opened
the ball with her, and his deportment quite silenced those who had
questioned his appearance.

"Before long, preparations for another journey were in progress.
Father had earned money sufficient to buy some land, and I heard that
we were going to Pennsylvania. I was, however, too young to be much
impressed by this news, and it was not until I saw mother once more in
tears that its importance was apparent to me. This time mother wept as
bitterly as before, for not only was she to be separated by a greater
distance from her family in New Hampshire, to whom she was fondly
attached, and from the pleasant circle of friends she had made in
Westhaven, but her darling among us children, her beautiful eldest boy,
of whom she was so proud,