I remember with horror her story of people being pushed into the canal by the towing rope, by going the wrong side of the horse.

I had the greatest horror of this story--keen instinct against death.

Some other recollections are those of vanity--namely, thinking that people were admiring me, in one instance for perseverance and another for boldness in climbing a low tree, and what is odder, a consciousness, as if instinctive, that I was vain, and contempt of myself.

My supposed admirer was old Peter Haile the bricklayer, and the tree the mountain ash on the lawn.

All my recollections seem to be connected most closely with myself; now Catherine (Catherine Darwin) seems to recollect scenes where others were the chief actors.