"I am not surprised that you have never heard your papa say much of our life in Pennsylvania, for you remember that he did not accompany us there, but only made us occasional visits. Before we left Vermont father had already apprenticed him, at his earnest desire, to the publishers of the _North American Spectator_, at Poultney, and brother Barnes (who is fifteen months his junior) then took his place in the household. I think that your papa had been some time in the _Spectator_ office before our departure for the woods, in September." "Yes," said Marguerite, who always remembers dates; "he was apprenticed the April before you left, and came over to Westhaven to bid you all good-by. I remember what he says of the parting in his 'Recollections:' [1] "'It was a sad parting. We had seen hard times together, and were very fondly attached to each other. I was urged by some of my kindred to give up Poultney (where there were some things in the office not exactly to my mind), and accompany them to their new home, whence, they urged, I could easily find in its vicinity another and better chance to learn my chosen trade. I was strongly tempted to comply, but it would have been bad faith to do so; and I turned my face once more towards Poultney, with dry eyes but a heavy heart. A word from my mother, at the critical moment, might have overcome my resolution. But she did not speak it, and I went my way, leaving the family soon to travel much farther and in an opposite direction. After the parting was over, and I well on my way, I was strongly tempted to return; and my walk back to Poultney (twelve miles) was one of the slowest and saddest of my life.' "Do commence at the beginning, mamma," Marguerite continued, "and tell us all about the journey to Pennsylvania, and how your new home looked when you arrived. How large was the family then? Aunt Margaret was born in Vermont, was she not?" "Yes, and a very pretty little creature she was," said mamma, with a sister's pride in the youngest of the family. "She was extremely small for her age--indeed, she weighed only three pounds and a half at her birth, and I recollect hearing some one say that the nurse put her into the family coffee-pot and shut down the lid." "The coffee-pot!" we all exclaimed, in chorus. "Pray how large was it? Somewhat over the ordinary size, I trust." Mamma laughed. "Yes, it was larger than coffee-pots of the present day," she said; "an old-fashioned tin coffee-pot, broad at the bottom and gradually narrowing towards the top. But still it was extraordinary that a baby could be put in it, and the lid shut down." "What induced grandpapa to select Pennsylvania for a residence, Aunt Esther?" inquired Ida. "Was land cheaper there than elsewhere?"