It is with some degree of awe that I touch upon the enigma of my
impressions at the commencement of my life. I am almost doubtful whether
they had reality within my own experience, or whether they are not,
rather, recollections mysteriously transmitted--I feel an almost sacred
hesitation when I would fathom their depths.

I came forth from the darkness of unconsciousness very gradually, for my
mind was illumined only fitfully, but then by outbursts of splendor
that compelled and fascinated my infant gaze. When the light was
extinguished, I lapsed once more into the non-consciousness of the
new-born animal, of the tiny plant just germinating.

The history of my earliest years is that of a child much indulged
and petted to whom nothing of moment happened; and into whose narrow,
protected life no jarring came that was not foreseen, and the shock of
which was not deadened with solicitous care. In my manners I was always
very tractable and submissive. That I may not make my recital tedious,
I will note without continuity and without the proper transitions those
moments which are impressed upon my mind because of their strangeness,
those moments that are still so vividly remembered, although I have
forgotten many poignant sorrows, many lands, adventures, and places.

I was at that time like a fledgling swallow living high up in a niche in
the eaves, who from time to time peeps out over the top of its nest with
its little bright eyes. With the eyes of imagination it sees into the
deeps of space, although to the actual vision only a courtyard and
street are visible; and it sees into depths which it will presently need