Such was the house in which I was born and reared, such the place in which occurred the stirring incidents which now I have to record. These incidents brought me and mine near unto death; they dealt out suffering and pain to many and punishment and retribution to one villain at least. But, also, they brought to my heart so tender and so sweet a joy, and to him whom I afterwards came to love so deep and cherished a happiness--as he has since many times told me--that on my knees nightly I thank my God that He saw fit in His great goodness to let those incidents take place. And now I will address myself to all I have to tell. When my dear father was within two years of his death, though neither he nor any other dreamed of it, so hale and strong did he seem, he and my cousin, Gregory Haller of Whitefountain, set out for Norfolk town one May morning intending to ride there that day, put up for the night, and, on the following day, purchase many things that were wanted for our respective homes; and so back again. Such journeyings were necessary periodically, and took place usually some six or eight times a year, I sometimes riding with them also, if I wanted a new gown or some ribbons imported from England, or a pair of silver-fringed gloves, or, may be, any pretty nick-nack that I should happen to set eyes upon which might grace our saloon or living-room. At other periods, as now, I would be left at home with my companion and tutoress, Miss Mills, a young English lady who had dwelt with us for some two years. She had come to the colonies from Bristol, of which she was a native, in search of employment as a teacher, and with high recommendations, one being from the Bishop of Bath and Wells, a most goodly man as all accounts declared. She liked but little our being left alone without my father, as may well be understood, and having around us nothing but negroes and bought, or indented, white servants; yet, whether we liked it or not it had to be borne as best might be. Both of us could handle pistols, in the use of which my father had perfected us, as was necessary, or might at any instant be necessary; and there were about the house one or two men who could perhaps be relied upon. Such was Mungo, our old negro butler, who, like myself, was of the fourth generation of his race settled in Virginia, since his great-grandfather was brought a slave from Africa and sold to my Lord Baltimore; and there were one or two others of his colour. Yet, as I say, we liked not being alone and, even on the hottest summer nights, would have all the great house carefully closed and barred and shuttered, and would pass our time as best we might by playing and singing at the spinet, or playing at such games as ombre or shove-groat. And Mary Mills and I would huddle ourselves together in my great bed at night for company, and, as we sillily said, for safety, and shiver and shake over every mouse that ran behind the