The first stage of the journey was to Falmouth, my mother's early home, where we remained for a rest of a day or two with my mother's sister, Mrs. Williams. Pleasant days they were, of loving sisterly communion. The children, wild with the excitement of the new experience, were eagerly spying out the wonders of the city, in company with their cousins. My brother Joseph, a bold, adventurous little fellow of scarcely three, wandered off one day, to the great anxiety of his mother. He was found, after a long search, by my aunt, gazing intently into the mysteries of a rope-walk. Seeing his aunt, he exclaimed, eagerly, "Oh, here comes Aunt Philippa! Now we'll go through the gate!" These pleasant days soon passed, and with renewed good-byes, we left for Portsmouth, from which port we were to sail. A vexatious delay of some days was experienced there, but at last the good ship spread her sails and stood off down the harbor. With tearful eyes they stood on deck and watched the receding shores of their dear native land fade from their sight. Then, with new devotion to each other and to the God who was leading them, they turned with hope and courage to the new life opening before them. For six long weeks the vessel ploughed its way over the heaving sea. My father was almost immediately prostrated by sea-sickness, and for most of the passage was confined to the stateroom, unable to render any assistance in the care of the family. My mother bravely rose to the emergency, caring for her sick husband and the restless children, and bearing the weariness and discomfort of the voyage without a murmur. My brother Joseph, being of an inquiring mind and full of restless energy, was constantly wandering about the ship, exploring every new place, talking with the sailors, trying to climb the ropes, and requiring unceasing vigilance to keep him from harm. Little Susan, then just past her first birthday, learned to walk on board the ship, and one of her first exploits in climbing about was to upset a teapot of hot tea into her bosom, making a bad scald of which she carries the scars to this day, thus adding much to the care and anxiety of her mother. At last the weary weeks wore away, and their eyes were gladdened by the sight of land. On the eighteenth of August, 1839, they made safe anchor in the harbor of New York. From there an easy sail by the Sound brought them to Hartford. Once more the luggage was mounted on a heavy wagon, with space reserved for the family, and they were off on the ten-mile drive over the mountains to Simsbury, their place of destination.