Mother remembers the Cold Friday very well. She lived in the house where I was born. The people in the kitchen—Jack Garrison, Esther, and a Hardy girl—drew up close to the fire, but the dishes which the Hardy girl was washing froze as fast as she washed them, close to the fire. They managed to keep warm in the parlor by their great fires . . .

For some years past I have partially offered myself as a lecturer . . . Yet I have had but two or three invitations to lecture in a year, and some years none at all. I congratulate myself on having been permitted to stay at home thus, I am so much the richer for it . . .