to meet her. She always carried on the horn of her saddle a handbag,
then called a "reticule," and in that she always brought us some
little treat, most generally a cut off of a loaf of sugar, that used to be
sold in the shape of a long loaf of bread. We would follow her down
to the stile, where she would get off, and delight us all by taking something
good to eat out of the "reticule." We would tie old Kit, and then
take our turn in petting the colt. The first grief I remember to have
had was when I heard of the death of my grandmother. I wanted to
see her so badly and go to the funeral, and for weeks I would go off
by myself and cry about her death. I used to love to lie and sit on
her grave at the back of the garden. Older people often forget the
sorrows of childhood, but I felt keenly the injustice of not being allowed
to see her dead face and do to this day.

We left that home, when I was about five years old, for a place
about two miles from Danville, Kentucky. The house had a flat roof, the
first one built in that county; it had an observatory on top. Our nearest
neighbors were Mr. Banford's family, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Spears.
Dr. Jackson and Dr. Smith were both our physicians, and my father
used to hire his physicians by the year. Dr. Jackson was a bachelor
and said he was going to wait for me, and I believed him. I remember
visiting Dr. Smith in Danville and seeing a human skeleton for
the first time. I also saw leeches he used in bleeding. I remember when
one of my little brothers was born, they told me Dr. Smith found him in
a hollow stump. After that I spent hours out in the woods looking
in hollow stumps for babies.

My mother's father was James Campbell, born in King and Queens
County, Virginia. His parents were from Scotland. He was married
twice. By his first wife he had two sons, William and Whitaker. William