To form some idea of my surroundings at this time, imagine a two-story white frame house with a hall through the middle, rooms on either side, and a large back building with grounds on the side and rear, which joined the garden of our good Presbyterian minister, the Rev. Simon Hosack, of whom I shall have more to say in another chapter.  Our favorite resorts in the house were the garret and cellar.  In the former were barrels of hickory nuts, and, on a long shelf, large cakes of maple sugar and all kinds of dried herbs and sweet flag; spinning wheels, a number of small white cotton bags filled with bundles, marked in ink, “silk,” “cotton,” “flannel,” “calico,” etc., as well as ancient masculine and feminine costumes.  Here we would crack the nuts, nibble the sharp edges of the maple sugar, chew some favorite herb, play ball with the bags, whirl the old spinning wheels, dress up in our ancestors’ clothes, and take a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding country from an enticing scuttle hole.  This was forbidden ground; but, nevertheless, we often went there on the sly, which only made the little escapades more enjoyable.

The cellar of our house was filled, in winter, with barrels of apples, vegetables, salt meats, cider, butter, pounding barrels, washtubs, etc., offering admirable nooks for playing hide and seek.  Two tallow candles threw a faint light over the scene on certain occasions.  This cellar was on a level with a large kitchen where we played blind man’s buff and other games when the day’s work was done.  These two rooms are the center of many of the merriest memories of my childhood days.

I can recall three colored men, Abraham, Peter, and Jacob, who acted as menservants in our youth.  In turn they would sometimes play on the banjo for us to dance, taking real enjoyment in our games.  They are all at rest now with “Old Uncle Ned in the place where the good niggers go.”  Our nurses, Lockey Danford, Polly Bell, Mary Dunn, and Cornelia Nickeloy—­peace to their ashes—­were the only shadows on the gayety of these winter evenings; for their chief delight was to hurry us off to bed, that they might receive their beaux or make short calls in the neighborhood.  My memory of them is mingled with no sentiment of gratitude or affection.  In expressing their opinion of us in after years, they said we were a very troublesome, obstinate, disobedient set of children.  I have no doubt we were in constant rebellion against their petty tyranny.  Abraham, Peter, and Jacob viewed us in a different light, and I have the most pleasant recollections of their kind services.