es to the day, and only breathe freely when Monday comes. This was
not the case with your grandfather. The Sabbath seemed to be made for
him, not he for the Sabbath. It was his day of sacred rest, in which,
however, he was not afraid to laugh as heartily as on other days; nor
was he so absorbed in religious duties as to make him less thoughtful
of the ordinary claims of life. I have often seen him on the afternoon
of that day, when the servants were all out, lay down his religious
book or newspaper, and go out to the stable, lead the horses into the
yard, water them at the hydrant, and then turn them loose on the grass
plot; and, seemingly with the greatest delight, he would watch them as
they alternately nipped the green grass, or engaged in those
extraordinary fantastic exercises which horses that have been pent up
in the stable, or in harness all the week, know so well how to perform.
Our back yard was separated from the front by a grape arbor, which
extended entirely across, and beyond which boundary the horses were not
allowed to pass. In this yard they had carte blanche in their Sabbath
day recreation, with one exception; they were not to touch the grape
vines. And they well understood from the wave of the book or
handkerchief in the hand of their master (who generally, on these
occasions, sat in one of the arches of the arbor) that they were to
approach no nearer the forbidden thing. Even horses know what kindness
is; and I have often been amused in looking at them, from the gallery,
as they would follow "grandpa" about the yard evincing evident
satisfaction in the many caresses he bestowed upon them. And had he
lived, my precious little children, you would soon have learned, in
your happy experience of his playfulness, and sympathy with you, on the
holy day, that he was far from being a Puritan in his views and
feelings.

In the fall of 1852, again in search of health, which of all
things belonging to this life (save an unblemished character) was ever
the most prized by your dear grandfather, we determined to pass the
whole of the approaching winter in the South. We started early in
November, went to "Bailey's Springs," in North Alabama, intending to
proceed from thence to Charleston, then to Mobile, and take New Orleans
in our way home in the spring. But after reaching "the Springs" we
concluded to give them a fair trial before proceeding further, as we
understood from friends, who had tested these wat