I was about four years old when my grandmother Moore died.  She lived on a farm in Garrard County, about two miles from my father.  She used to ride a mare called “Kit.”  Whenever we would see grandma coming up the avenue, the whole lot of children, white and black, ran to meet her.  She always carried on the horn of her saddle a handbag, then called a “reticule,” and in that she always brought us some little treat, most generally a cut off of a loaf of sugar, that used to be sold in the shape of a long loaf of bread.  We would follow her down to the stile, where she would get off, and delight us all by taking something good to eat out of the “reticule.”  We would tie old Kit, and then take our turn in petting the colt.  The first grief I remember to have had was when I heard of the death of my grandmother.  I wanted to see her so badly and go to the funeral, and for weeks I would go off by myself and cry about her death.  I used to love to lie and sit on her grave at the back of the garden.  Older people often forget the sorrows of childhood, but I felt keenly the injustice of not being allowed to see her dead face and do to this day.

We left that home, when I was about five years old, for a place about two miles from Danville, Kentucky.  The house had a flat roof, the first one built in that county; it had an observatory on top.  Our nearest neighbors were Mr. Banford’s family, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Spears.  Dr. Jackson and Dr. Smith were both our physicians, and my father used to hire his physicians by the year.  Dr. Jackson was a bachelor and said he was going to wait for me, and I believed him.  I remember visiting Dr. Smith in Danville and seeing a human skeleton for the first time.  I also saw leeches he used in bleeding.  I remember when one of my little brothers was born, they told me Dr. Smith found him in a hollow stump.  After that I spent hours out in the woods looking in hollow stumps for babies.

My mother’s father was James Campbell, born in King and Queens County, Virginia.  His parents were from Scotland.  He was married twice.  By his first wife he had two sons, William and Whitaker.  William married and died young, and I heard, left one child, a daughter.  Uncle “Whitt” lived to be an old man.  The second time my grandfather married a Miss Bradshaw.  He had four sons and six daughters.  I used to stay at grandma’s with my aunt Sue.  When my mother would take long trips or visits, she would send the younger children, with my nurse Betsy, over there to stay until she returned.  The only thing I construe into a cross word, that my grandfather ever spoke to me, was when I was running upstairs and stumbled and he said:  “Jump up, and try it again, my daughter.”  I was so humiliated by the rebuke that I hid from him for several days.  He was a Baptist deacon for years.  When gentlemen called on my aunts, lie would go in the parlor at 10 o’clock in the evening and wind the big clock.  He would then ask the young men if he should have their horses put