stern, black-bearded man of the ante-bellum type,
such as you may see in any old volume of daguerreotypes, and entirely
unblessed with a sense of humor. I can even now recall with a
sinking of the heart the manner in which, if I abjured my food, he
would grasp me firmly by the back of the neck and force my nose
toward the plate of Indian mush--which was the family staple at
supper--with the command, "Eat, boy!" Sometimes he was kind to a
degree which, by a yawning of the imagination, might be regarded
as affectionate, but this was only from a sense of religious duty.
At such times I was prone to distrust him even more than at others.
He believed in a personal devil with horns, a tail, and, I suspect,
red tights; and up to the age of ten I shared implicitly in this
belief. The day began and ended with family prayers of a particularly
long-drawn-out and dolorous character.

My mother, on the other hand, was a pale young woman of an undecided
turn of mind with a distinct taste for the lighter pleasures that
she was never allowed to gratify. I think she secretly longed for
the freedom that had been hers under the broader roof of her father's
stately mansion on High Street. But she had, I suspect, neither
the courage nor the force of mind to raise an issue, and from sheer
inertia remained faithful to the life that she had elected.

My grandfather never had anything to do with either of them and
did not, so far as I am aware, know me by sight, which may account
for the fact that when he died he bequeathed a moderate sum in
trust, "the proceeds to be devoted to the support and maintenance
of the child of my daughter Sarah, at some suitable educational
institution where he may be removed from the influences of his
father."

Thus it was that at the age of nine I was sent away from home and
began an independent career at the boarding-school kept by the
Reverend Mr. Quirk, at Methuen, Massachusetts. Here I remained
for seven years, in the course of which both my parents died,
victims of typhoid. I was cast upon the world utterly alone, save
for the rather uncompromising and saturnine regard in which I was
held by old Mr. Toddleham, my trustee. This antique gentleman
inhabited a musty little office, the only furniture in which
consisted of a worn red carpet, a large engraving of the Hon.
Jeremiah Mason, and a table covered with green baize. I recall
also a little bronze horse which he used as a paper weight. He
had