by the good doctor, who was an Episcopalian. But the bud came near being suddenly blasted. An old-fashioned cent which I put into my mouth, slipped down my throat, and was extracted with much difficulty. I distinctly remember the circumstance. When the copper was taken out, blood flowed copiously from my mouth. My poor mother was much frightened, and I suffered for a short time severely. If my father had lived, I should probably have been a sailor. He was first mate of the ship in which he made his last and fatal voyage, and was to have been promoted to captain on his return. I have ever loved the sea, and a ship is a thing of beauty in my eye. But it was written that the solid earth, not the treacherous deep, should be the field of my operations. One word about Lord Timothy, just referred to. He was a very eccentric man, had many soft spots on his head, but knew enough to accumulate a large fortune. He built a magnificent residence, which he adorned in a very extravagant manner, with sculpture and pictures. He was very vain of his house and wealth. It is said that a stranger, passing his house, was attentively observing it, when Dexter, who was sitting at a window, remarked: “Do you not think this is paradise?” “I should,” replied the man, “if I did not see the devil at the window.” He was dubbed “Lord” for his vanity and ostentation, and the title delighted him as much as “Corsica” prefixed to Boswell, delighted the well known biographer of that name. I commenced attending school at an early age, but have no pleasant memories of school-hours in my native town. My teacher would read a chapter in the Bible, and make a long prayer every morning, and then whip and pound his pupils till the time for his evening devotions. If I escaped a day without two or three hard thrashings, I deemed myself very fortunate, and I think I was as dutiful as school boys generally were of my age. He was doubtless a believer in total depravity, and was sure that nothing but blows and knocks would make a good impression on our corrupt hearts. From my tenth to my eighteenth year, I resided in Haverhill, Mass., with S. George. He was a farmer and shoemaker--made shoes in the winter, and tilled the soil summers, and I worked on his farm and in his shop, except winters, when I attended school. I remember my first attempt at horseback riding. I went to live with him in the spring, and he soon put me on a horse to ride when ploughing corn. The beast was contrary and spirited. He would go like jehu a few rods, and then stop short, and I would go over his head on to the ground. But I was as spunky as the horse, and would scramble up, and tell Mr. G. to put me on again. I was always eager to remount the beast, although he threw me twenty times a day. Since then, I have rode over the Western country horseback, and consider myself a good horseman.