Autobiographical Passages 55 



in many cruel ways, and I still carry the scars of more than 

 one kind of the wounds I received. I was taken away sud- 

 denly when one of the big boys wrote to his father, who sent 

 the letter to mine, that a teacher had lifted me up by my 

 ears and had so pinched one of them that it bled. My father 

 had not thought of taking me away when I wrote I think 

 it must have been in my first letter to him that there had 

 been a revival in the school; that I had experienced religion, 

 that I had had a prayer party in my bedroom to pray for his 

 conversion and that I wished him to read a certain tract, the 

 title of which I forget. 



After this I lived for six months or more at home. But 

 home with me had many branches, for there were no less 

 than ten households of grandparents, granduncles and uncles 

 in which, for all that I recollect, I was as welcome and in- 

 timate and as much at home as if I had been born to them. 

 My father's grandfather had five sons, all of whom had, I 

 think, been seafaring men before the revolution. One had 

 sailed in a letter of marque, was taken prisoner and died in 

 the hulk at the Wallabout ; another who was more successful 

 than the rest in acquiring wealth and honors was carried to a 

 peaceful grave before my day. Another was over ninety 

 years old when I was born. I dimly recollect him, living in a 

 large, rambling old farm house, of which he was the only oc- 

 cupant except his housekeeper. The fourth was also over 

 ninety when I rode his knee. He had served the young 

 republic both on sea and land and was the hero of a very dar- 

 ing and shrewd exploit, having, with three American seamen 

 and two negroes whom he compelled to assist him, recaptured 

 a valuable prize vessel on the high seas and brought her safely 

 in. They were all infirm from wounds and rheumatism and 

 I remember my grandfather out of his arm chair but once. 

 He then walked a little way with me in a warm spring day, 

 supporting himself with a long Malacca cane, which I now 

 own, held with both hands. Leaning against a fence he 

 pointed out a hang-bird's nest in one of a row of elms near us 



