But in time we laid him away in the sunny little graveyard of the Society of Friends, back of the little stone church at Wallingford.  We put a small, narrow, rough little slab of sandstone at his head, and cut into it his name and the dates of his birth and death; this being all that the simple manners of the Society of Friends thought fit.  “His temple is in my heart,” said my mother; and from that day to her death she offered tribute to him.

Thus, I say, it was that I changed from a boy into a man.  But not the man my father had been.  Life and business matters had hitherto been much a sealed book for me.  I was seized of consternation when a man came riding over from the little Wallingford bank, asking attention to word from Abrams & Halliday, bankers of Fredericksburg.  I understood vaguely of notes overdue, and somewhat of mortgages on our lands, our house, our crops.  I explained our present troubles and confusion; but the messenger shook his head with a coldness on his face I had not been accustomed to see worn by any at Cowles’ Farms.  Sweat stood on my face when I saw that we owed over fifteen thousand dollars—­a large sum in those simple days—­and that more would presently follow, remainder of a purchase price of over a hundred thousand dollars for lands I had never seen.  I looked about me at the great house of Cowles’ Farms, and a coldness came upon my heart as I realized for the first time that perhaps this home was not ours, but another’s.  Anger again possessed me at this thought, and with small adieu I ordered the man from the place, and told him I would horsewhip him if he lingered but a moment.  Then, too late, I thought of more business-like action, and of following the advice my father had given me, at once to see his associate, Colonel Meriwether.  Thereafter I consulted my mother.

In the chaotic state of affairs then existing, with the excitement of a turbulent election approaching, it may be supposed that all commercial matters were much unsettled.  None knew what might be the condition of the country after the fall elections; but all agreed that now was no time to advance money upon any sort of credit.  As to further pledges, with a view to raising these sums now due, I found the matter hopeless.

Colonel Sheraton might, perhaps, have aided us, but him I would not ask.  Before this time I had acquainted him of my intentions in regard to his daughter; and now I went to him and placed the matter before him, explaining to him the nature of our affairs and announcing my intention to make a quick journey to the West, in order to obtain assistance from Colonel Meriwether, of whom I hoped to find instant solution of the financial problems, at least.  It seemed wise for me to place before Miss Grace’s father the question of advisability of allowing her to remain pledged to a man whose fortunes were in so sad a state.  I asked him what was right for me to do.  His face was very grave as he pondered, but he said, “If my girl’s word has been passed, we will wait.  We will wait, sir.”  And that was all I knew when I made my hurried preparations for the longest journey I had at that time ever known.