She died when I was about fifteen, and as my father was not the eldest son, few, if any, heirlooms fell to his share.

And a good many years before my grandmother's death--at the time of her husband's death--the old home was sold, and she came to live in a curious old-fashioned house, in the little county town a few miles from where we lived.

This old house had belonged to her own family for many, many years, and, as all her brothers were dead, it became hers.

She was very proud of it, and even during my grandfather's life they used to come in from the country to spend the worst of the winter there.

Dear me! what a long time back it takes us! were my grandmother living now, she would be--let me see--my father would have been a hundred years old by now.