There is no picture of him.
They told me that he was tall and strong, and ruddy of face; that my beak nose is like his, my square forehead, my firm chin.

After he reached America he wrote to me.

I have the letters yet, written in a large open hand, characteristic of an adventurous nature.

Though he was my father, he was only a person in the world after all.

I was surrounded by my mother's people.