My Boyhood and Youth 



flowers and had a fine garden surrounded by an 

 iron fence, through the bars of which, when I 

 thought no one saw me, I oftentimes snatched 

 a flower and took to my heels. One day Peter 

 discovered me in this mischief, dashed out into 

 the street and caught me. I screamed that I 

 wouldna steal any more if he would let me go. 

 He did n't say anything but just dragged me 

 along to the stable where he kept the wild 

 pony, pushed me in right back of its heels, and 

 shut the door. I was screaming, of course, but 

 as soon as I was imprisoned the fear of being 

 kicked quenched all noise. I hardly dared 

 breathe. My only hope was in motionless 

 silence. Imagine the agony I endured! I did 

 not steal any more of his flowers. He was a 

 good hard judge of boy nature.^ 



I was in Peter's hands some time before this, 

 when I was about two and a half years old. 

 The servant girl bathed us small folk before 

 putting us to bed. The smarting soapy scrub- 

 bings of the Saturday nights in preparation 

 for the Sabbath were particularly severe, and 

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