A sketch of my mother and father will throw some light upon the lives of their children, but it is a delicate task to write of one's parents. As I was but six years old when my father died I have only a dim recollection of him, but materials for an interesting sketch of his brief but active career are abundant. I know of no citizen of Ohio of whom more anecdotes have been told, or whose general and social life has been more highly appreciated, or whose popularity has been more marked, than that of my father. During the early years of my life at the bar I met many of the older lawyers, contemporary with my father, and they all spoke of him in the highest praise, and generally had some incident to tell of him that happened in the days of the "Stirrup Court." Charles Robert Sherman, my father, was born in Norwalk, Connecticut, September 26, 1788, the eldest son of Judge Taylor Sherman and Elizabeth Stoddard. He received the best educational advantages of his day, and, when fully prepared, commenced the study of law in the associated offices of his father and the Hon. Judge Chapman. He was admitted to the bar in 1810, and on May 8, of that year, married Mary Hoyt, also of Norwalk, who had grown up with him from childhood. He could not go into the northern part where his father's land lay, as it was then roamed over by hostile Indians, but followed the usual route to Ohio by Pittsburg and Wheeling to Zanesville. He located at Lancaster, but returned to Norwalk, Connecticut, in the fall of 1810. In 1811 he returned to Lancaster, accompanied by his wife. Ohio was then a frontier state, and in large portions of its territory an unbroken wilderness. The way to it from their New England home was far and weary, beset with many hardships and exposed to great dangers. My father and mother were obliged to journey the greater part of this distance on horseback, alternately carrying their infant child upon a pillow before them. I only advert to these incidents as they illustrate the self-reliant character of the man, and the brave, confiding trust of his wife. The little boy they carried upon the pillow, then their only son, was Charles Taylor Sherman.