class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">191

XXIII.   "Skookum Tum-Tum" 200 XXIV.   Carpet-Bag, Basket and Baby 207 XXV.   Edwards is Better 221 XXVI.   One Woman Redeemed Them All 227 XXVII.   A Familiar Face 237 XXVIII.   Visitors, Shilling a Dozen—Our Left-Handers 248 XXIX.   Born with Emeralds—Nemo Nocetur 261 XXX.   Turkey Island 273 XXXI.   At the White House 288 XXXII.   Uncle Tom 305 XXXIII.   "God's 'tisement" 314 XXXIV.   Charlotte Cushman 327 XXXV.   Easter Flowers 339 XXXVI.   His Last Battle 352

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of Author	Frontispiece
	FACING PAGE
Abraham Lincoln	168
Ulysses S. Grant	288
"I know dear Father was a great man and knew most everything, but I didn't know he had God's eyes and could see everything"	330
"Little Brother, be gentle with the flowers; they die so soon"	348
"All Quiet Along the Potomac"	355
The Angel of Peace	363

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I "OUT OF THE EVERYWHERE"

There are some events with which we have become so familiar by report that we can scarcely believe they did not happen within our own recollection. Thus it is with my advent into earthly existence.

Not long before the time at which I was expected to arrive in this vale of thorns and flowers my father's only brother was seriously ill. It became necessary for my father to accompany him to Philadelphia to consult an eminent surgeon.

For months it had been definitely settled that I was to be a boy, for all was grist that came to my father's mill. No shadow of a doubt of my manhood clouded the family mind. My health had been drunk at the clubs and in the homes, and especially at the neighborhood functions, the fox hunts, and the name of Thomas La Salle had already been given me. "L'homme propose et Dieu surprend," and so did I, for, most unexpectedly, I made my arrival in the middle of the night, the middle of the week, the middle of the month, almost the middle of the year, near the middle of the century, and in the middle of a hail-storm. Confident that I was a boy, the family had all hoped that I would be considerate enough to postpone my coming at least until my father's return, but with perverse discourtesy and want of filial regard, I would not wait. Of course, there was no one ready to receive me.

I have borne the blame for this untimely début, but it was really the fault of the barn which, in the early part of the evening, had caught fire and been burned to the ground. The excitement had passed and the sleep of exhaustion that follows disrupting events had settled over all when again there was confusion; this time owing to my inconsiderate haste to present myself. The keys to the stable door could not be found. There was no time to hunt for them, so the hinges were pried off and Fannie Kemble, the fleetest and safest horse in the stable, was hurriedly called from her dreams. My young uncle, afterwards a gallant Confederate officer, Colonel J. J. Phillips, was routed out and, barefoot and mounted upon the horse without saddle or bridle, rode post haste for our family physician, treasuring the grievance to