I have a faint and indistinct recollection of my father's death and burial. The solemn ceremony of his funeral, and the dull and harsh sound of the earth as it touched his coffin, deeply affected my youthful spirits. I cried bitterly in the arms of my old nurse, and wondered at my mother's chilled and tearless eye. My father was dead! He had been stern and imperious to me; and as my gratitude was no reasoning power, I soon laughed brightly again in the serious and melancholy face of my mother. My old nurse Ellen, had lived in the Granby family for three successive generations, and was addressed by the endearing epithet of "Mammy." Her grandson, a well formed and athletic youth, named Scipio, four years older than myself, had been given to me by my father, and I soon learned the deep and abiding fidelity of his affection. He was my friend, companion and slave; and I thank God! that the pride of dominion never insulted or degraded him. In his obedience, he was dignified; and in his devotion, ardent, generous and sincere. He taught me to ride the unbroken colt--to steer the frail periogue, and to fish with success for the active boneta. According to the custom in Virginia, he did no service but wait on his young master. Thus separated from the great mass of my father's slaves, he grew into manhood with a gentleness of character and a dignity of address which would have honored the proudest gentleman in the state. My old uncle Charles, who was one of the happiest and most dignified specimens of the "decayed gentleman," had found a resting place for his adversity in the Chalgrave family. He had been a Colonel in the militia; and having on one occasion, performed with his whole regiment before an admiring _court yard_, the difficult and vexatious manoeuvre of "the hollow square," he instantly resigned his commission; and under the shade of his laurels, he lamented the decay of military spirit, and the ignorance of the officers. The "hollow square," was the first mathematical figure I learned. Every thing in nature was pressed by my uncle into this fortified figure (as he called it,) of fortification. The trees, the flowers, the grass plats, backgammon men,--and the flies trained with honey, presented the solemn outline of my uncle's pride and learning. His peculiarities were few, and deeply tinctured with enthusiasm. As an antiquary alone, in the cause of Virginian history, he was bigoted, obstinate and credulous; and, considered as the first of books, "the Metamorphoses of Ovid, done into English by Mr. George Sandys, the company's treasurer." He contended that Clayton, the botanist, was greater in learning, than Linnæus; and, told with much indignation, the minutiæ of Clayton's quarrel with Gronovius, the Amsterdam printer. My uncle was experienced in the diseases of dogs and horses, and perfectly familiar with the technical jargon of the racing calendar. He had travelled in Europe, but would never mention the incidents of his tour, except to