Although my name has been constantly appearing for some twelve or
fifteen years, yet I have lost none of that, shrinking from
notoriety and observation which made me timid and retiring when a
boy. The necessity to write as a means of livelihood, and to write a
great deal, has brought me so frequently before the public, that I
have almost ceased to think about the matter as any thing more than
an ordinary occurrence; but, now, when called upon to write about
myself, I find that the edge of a natural sensitiveness is quite as
keen as ever. But, I will call the feeling a weakness, and try to
repress it until I have finished my present task.

I was born in the year 1809, near Newburgh, Orange County, New York;
and my eyes first opened on the beautiful scenery of the Hudson. My
earliest recollection is of Fort Montgomery, some six miles below
West Point, on the river, where my parents resided for a few years
previous to 1817. In the Spring of that year, they removed to
Baltimore, which became my place of residence until 1841, when I
came to Philadelphia, where I have since lived.

My early educational advantages were few. There were no public
schools in Maryland, when I was a boy, and, as my father had a large
family and but a moderate income, he could afford to send his
children to school only for a limited period. He knew the value,
however, of a good education, and did all for us in his power.
Especially did he seek to inspire his children with a regard for
religious truth, and, both by precept and example, to lead them into
the practice of such things as were honest and of good rest. In all
this, he was warmly seconded by a mother who still survives; and for
whom, it is but just to say, that her children feel the tenderest
regard--and well may they do so, for they owe her much.