... ... My father died in 1840. Though I was about four years old I do not remember him. All I remember is going to the door of the large "north room" at Danskammer, and looking in and seeing something covered by a sheet; I knew it was he and that he was lying there dead. He died of scarlet fever just a few days after the death from the same disease of my only sister, little Mary. ...
... My earliest recollection is an adventure I had with my little sister Mary when she was six and I was four. I have only this one memory of her. Mary and I were out in the "sugar-loaf" field alone, standing on the bank of the brook near the bridge, when suddenly a little "skilly-pot" turtle scuttled across the brook, which excited us so much that we both fell off into the water. It was shallow and there was no danger, but we both got a good wetting and were afraid to go home in that condition, so we went to the top of the hill at the end of the avenue and tried to dry ourselves in the sun. Not being very successful in this, we finally went home, where we found my mother in the large storeroom closet. She was getting out rock-candy from a tin box that always stood on the top shelf, and was giving it to the other children. All these details are impressed so clearly on my memory — they say the first thing a child remembers is invariably connected with something to eat — because my mother did not give Mary and me any of the rock-candy. I remember well the delightful box from which the candy came, the rich dark plum-cake that lived in it, and all the other delicacies. This is, as I say, the only thing I am sure I remember about my little sister, but I have also a very distinct impression — whether real or fancied, I do not know — of a fair little face and long, curling light hair. If I ever reach heaven and see her, as I often pray that I may, shall I know her when we meet? ...
