sign of disappointment when none came, and never spoke upon the subject
to my mother. He soon found enough in his affairs at home to occupy his
mind, for old Samuel Wyeth had left the estate sadly incumbered with his
debts, and more than half of it was sacrificed to save the rest. With
care and frugality, there yet remained enough to live on, and for the
first year, at least, there came no cloud to dim their happiness. Their
cup of joy was full to overflowing, so my mother often told me, when, on
the night of April 15,1735, a child was born to them. It was a boy, and a
week later, before the altar of the little Westover church, its worthy
rector christened the child "Thomas Stewart," the fifth of his line in
the New World.




CHAPTER IV

THE ENDING OF THE HONEYMOON


Besides my father and my mother, the figure which stands out most clearly
in my memory of my childhood is that of the man who christened me. I
cannot remember the time when I did not know and love him. He was a tall,
well-built man, with kindly face and clear blue eyes which darkened when
any emotion stirred him, and rode--how well I remember it!--a big, bony,
gray horse. It was on this horse's back that I took my first ride, when I
was scarce out of petticoats, and often after that, held carefully before
him on the saddle, or, as I grew older, bumping joyously behind, my arms
about his waist. My place was always on his knee when he was within our
doors, and he held me there with unfailing good humor during his long