CHILDHOOD 13 



my memory. To a boy of seven the word abo- 

 litionist had no meaning; but as I heard it applied 

 to my mother, it seemed a term of opprobrium. 

 The capture and hanging of John Brown, and the 

 discussion of events, were engrossing topics in 

 the household. Still I did not comprehend the 

 situation, for with my toys, a file of lead soldiers 

 and a small jointed doll, I played at hanging John 

 Brown. I had seen all the pictures of the ex- 

 ecution in Harpers Weekly, and reenacted the 

 drama as nearly as I could. 



The gloom when finally the great conflict 

 opened, when a flag at half mast revealed a new 

 method of expression, is among the strongest of 

 my early recollections. 



These incidents have been dwelt on not for 

 any intrinsic interest nor as indicative of later 

 tastes, but as serving to show that my perceptive 

 powers were early called into play, and that my 

 visualizing faculty recorded lasting pictures. 



Crossing the ocean, one day one of the sailors 

 caught a bird, in the rigging, which had come on 

 board ship, tired and exhausted, seeking refuge. 

 There was an invalid lady, confined to her cabin, 

 which was just opposite ours, she asked to see 

 the bird, and it was brought down alive in 

 the sailor's hand. I had a good look at it. 

 I recall its long, curved bill, its finely barred 

 brown feathers, the frightened look of its eye, 



