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Even the girls did not escape whipping. “He used to whip me often for telling lies,” says a daughter, “but I can’t remember his ever punishing me but once when I thought I didn’t deserve, and then he looked at me so stern that I didn’t dare to tell the truth. He had such a way of saying, ‘Tut, tut!’ if he saw the first sign of a lie in us, that he often frightened us children.

“When I first began to go to school,” she continues, “I found a piece of calico one day behind one of the benches—it was not large, but seemed quite a treasure to me, and I did not show it to any one until I got home. Father heard me then telling about it and said, ‘Don’t you know what girl lost it?’ I told him I did not. ‘Well, when you go to school to-morrow take it with you and find out if you can who lost it. It is a trifling thing but always remember that if you should lose anything you valued, no matter how small, you would want the person who found it to give it back to you.’” He “showed a great deal of tenderness to me,” continues the daughter, “and one thing I always noticed was my father’s peculiar tenderness and devotion to his father. In cold weather he always tucked the bedclothes around grandfather when he went to bed, and would get up in the night to ask him if he slept warm—always seeming so kind and loving to him that his example was beautiful to see.”