Whatever was his lot there sang the bird within his breast, and there shone the sun over his head and into his soul.

The boy had unconsciously drawn around him a circle of sunbeams, and how could the vulture of poverty strike him with its wings or stab him with its beak.

When he was about eight he was parted from his mother, she going to Lynn, and he, wee mite of a man, remaining in Newburyport.

It was during the War of 1812, and pinching times, when Fanny Garrison was at her wit's end to keep the wolf from devouring her three little ones and herself into the bargain.

With what tearing of the heart-strings she left Lloyd and his little sister Elizabeth behind we can now only imagine.