When I was born he was living in Harrisburg, but, as he left there shortly after I had reached my third year, I have no remembrances connected with that city.

Indeed, my recollections are all of very different scenes than this country affords.

My mother having died while I was still an infant, I was sent very early in life to the Old World, from which my father had originally come.

When I returned, which was not till this very year, I found my father dying, and my brother a grown man with money--a great deal of money--which I had been led to think he was ready to share with me.

But after my father was laid away, Felix" (with what effort he uttered that name!) "Felix came to New York, and I was left to wander about without settled hopes or any definite promise of means upon which to base a future or start a career.
While wandering, I came upon the town where my father had lived in early youth, and, hunting up his old friends, I met in the house of one who had come over from Scotland with my father a young lady" (how his voice shook, and with what a poignant accent he uttered that beloved name) "in whom I speedily became interested to the point of wishing to marry her.
But I had no money, no business, no home to give her, and, as I was fain to acknowledge, no prospects.