house No. 47 York Place, Edinburgh. I was named James Hall after my
father's dear friend, Sir James Hall of Dunglass. My mother afterwards
told me that I must have been "a very noticin' bairn," as she observed
me, when I was only a few days old, following with my little eyes any
one who happened to be in the room, as if I had been thinking to my
little self, "Who are you?"

After a suitable time I was put under the care of a nursemaid.
I remember her well--Mary Peterkin--a truly Scandinavian name.
She came from Haddingtonshire, where most of the people are of
Scandinavian origin. Her hair was of a bright yellow tint.
She was a cheerful young woman, and sang to me like a nightingale.
She could not only sing old Scotch songs, but had a wonderful memory
for fairy tales. When under the influence of a merry laugh,
you could scarcely see her eyes; their twinkle was hidden by her
eyelids and lashes. She was a willing worker, and was always ready
to lend a helping hand at everything about the house, she took great
pride in me, calling me her "laddie."

When I was toddling about the house, another sister was born, the last
of the family. Little Mary was very delicate; and to improve her
health she was sent to a small farm-house at Braid Hills, about four
miles south of Edinburgh. It was one of the most rural and beautiful
surroundings of the city at that time. One of my earliest
recollections is that of being taken to see poor little Mary at the
farmer's house. While my nursemaid was occupied in inquiring after my
sister, I was attracted by the bright red poppies in a neighbouring
field. When they made search for me I could not be found. I was lost
for more than an hour. At last, seeing a slight local disturbance
among the stalks of corn, they rushed to they spot, and brought me out