Three miles from the village of Sharpsburg, on the Virginia side of the Potomac river, there is another quaint, old fashioned village called Shepherdstown. Here my mother, Susan Cameron, was born October 25, 1803, and was married to my father, Charles Nourse, June 10, 1825. Here in this village my mother died October 10, 1835. There is still standing in this town the old Methodist church, surrounded by a village churchyard, where will be found modest tombstones marking the graves of my mother, and of many of her brothers and sisters, and also her mother, Susan Cameron, who died at Shepherdstown, Virginia, July 20, 1855. My mother's father's name was Daniel Cameron, born in Scotland, October, 1753. His wife was also of Scotch descent. Her family name was Clinton, which name was bestowed upon me, and in honor of my grandmother and to please her I have always been known in the family by the name of Clinton, my first name being Charles, so named after my father. My father, Charles Nourse, was born at Frankfort, Kentucky, April 15, 1801. Several years before my mother's death my father had removed from Sharpsburg to Frederick City, Maryland, where he taught school for several years, and while living there, to-wit, August 9, 1833, your mother's mother was born. My recollections of my mother are not very distinct, as I was only six years old at the time of her death. Only one incident of my early childhood I call to mind very clearly. I had been induced by my older brothers and some neighbor boys, whilst playing in the market square at Frederick City, to attempt to imitate them in the use of chewing tobacco, which resulted in making me very sick. Whilst lying upon the trundle bed in the room upstairs of the house where we resided, I vomited very freely, and as I lay back upon my pillow, pale and weak from the effort, I remember a kind face of one stooping over me and sympathizing deeply, not knowing the cause of my illness, and I remember how guilty I felt at being the object of so much undeserved sympathy. The last two years of our residence in Maryland we lived at a little village at the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains called Burkettsville, and during part of these two years my grandmother Cameron kept house for us and had charge of her four grandchildren. I remember her very distinctly, the most affectionate and patient woman it was ever my fortune to know.