MY PRETTY SISTER 



HE first great sorrow In our 

 house that I can remember 

 was the death of my sister 

 Esther. 



I do not think I loved one sister better 

 than another, but I was quite aware of their 

 unllkeness. The story goes that, as I was 

 one day sitting on Mr. Trevanlon's knee, 

 when he and the Q^Irls were chattlnof 

 pleasantly together, I suddenly put my 

 mouth to his ear and whispered, " I say, I 

 i6r L 



