absolutely clean life, had no vices. My associates were of the
right kind, business prospects satisfactory. Why should I hesitate
to offer a hand that was clean, a heart that was pure to the woman
I loved? "I will do it," I said aloud, and I did--that evening.

It was the evening of July 10th, 1870.

The day had been warm and oppressive, but after sundown a pleasant
breeze cooled the air.

As I entered the grounds surrounding Mr. Sherman's home I stood for
a few moments beneath the foliage of his fine old trees, inhaling
the fragrance of the flowers blooming on the lawn.

My mind was filled with a feeling of awe at the great responsibility
I was about to assume.

I had perfect confidence in my ability to care for the well-being
and happiness of the object of my affection. I knew my love was
sincere and lasting, and yet, when I thought of all it meant, to
take a girl from a home in which she was loved and happy, to bind
her to me for all time, to share what might come of good or evil in
the uncertainties of life, it came over me with tremendous force
that if this girl should intrust her heart to my keeping, a lifetime
of devotion should be her reward.

The early part of the evening was passed in general conversation
with the family, and after a little music we were finally left
alone.