attained my majority, and I cannot remember when she was not an
invalid. Such literary tendencies as I have are derived from her,
but I do not possess a tithe of her intellectual power. Her story-
books in her youth were the classics; and when she was but twelve
years of age she knew "Paradise Lost" by heart. In my
recollections of her, the Bible and all works tending to elucidate
its prophecies were her favorite themes of study. The
retentiveness of her memory was very remarkable. If any one
repeated a verse of the New Testament, she could go on and finish
the chapter. Indeed, she could quote the greater part of the Bible
with the ease and accuracy of one reading from the printed page.
The works of Hugh Miller and the Arctic Explorations of Dr. Kane
afforded her much pleasure. Confined usually to her room, she took
unfailing delight in wandering about the world with the great
travellers of that day, her strong fancy reproducing the scenes
they described. A stirring bit of history moved her deeply. Well
do I remember, when a boy, of reading to her a chapter from
Motley's "Dutch Republic," and of witnessing in her flushed cheeks
and sparkling black eyes proof of an excitement all too great for
one in her frail health. She had the unusual gift of relating in
an easy, simple way what she read; and many a book far too
abstruse and dull for my boyish taste became an absorbing story
from her lips. One of her chief characteristics was the love of
flowers. I can scarcely recall her when a flower of some kind,
usually a rose, was not within her reach; and only periods of
great feebleness kept her from their daily care, winter and
summer. Many descendants of her floral pets are now blooming in my
garden.

My father, on the other hand, was a sturdy man of action. His love