"My father had built our home and business after the War for Independence ended in 1783. I was four years old. The coffeehouse sat just off the corner of Seventh and High Streets. At first we were lucky if a lost farmer strayed in, but business improved when President Washington's house was built two blocks away." (p. 7)

"Grandfather stayed silent until we approached a limping man dressed in dark rags, pushing a car.

"'Wonder where that fellow's going?' he said. 'Looks like he belongs on the waterfront.'

"A thin white arm flopped over the side of the car as it jostled over the cobblestones.

"'Hullo there, good man!' called Grandfather. 'There is no place for the dead up here. Hullo!"' (p. 61)

"Grandfather chuckled. The laughter caught in his throat and made him cough. I watched with alarm as his face reddened. I pounded his back...