1813.

When I was four years and a half old I went to the sea, and stayed there
some weeks. I remember many things, but with the exception of the
maidservants (and these are not individualised) I recollect none of my
family who were there. I remember either myself or Catherine being
naughty, and being shut up in a room and trying to break the windows. I
have an obscure picture of a house before my eyes, and of a neighbouring
small shop, where the owner gave me one fig, but which to my great joy
turned out to be two: this fig was given me that the man might kiss the
maidservant. I remember a common walk to a kind of well, on the road to
which was a cottage shaded with damascene (Chapter I./2. Damson is derived
from Damascene; the fruit was formerly known as a "Damask Prune.") trees,
inhabited by an old man, called a hermit, with white hair, who used to give
us damascenes. I know not whether the damascenes, or the reverence and
indistinct fear for this old man produced the greatest effect on my memory.
I remember when going there crossing in the carriage a broad ford, and
fear and astonishment of white foaming water has made a vivid impression.
I think memory of events commences abruptly; that is, I remember these
earliest things quite as clearly as others very much later in life, which
were equally impressed on me. Some very early recollections are connected
with fear at Parkfield and with poor Betty Harvey. I remember with horror
her story of people being pushed into the canal by the towing rope, by
going the wrong side of the horse. I had the greatest horror of this
story--keen instinct against death. Some other recollections are those of
vanity--namely, thinking that people were admiring me, in one instance for
perseverance and another for boldness in climbing a low tree, and what is
odder, a consciousness, as if instinctive, that I was vain, and contempt of
myself. My supposed admirer was old Peter Haile the bricklayer, and the