Fortune, not fate now, followed me, led me rather and guided my
footsteps. It was not many months before I met a woman who seemed to
me in every way calculated to fill the first place in that home
which I had pictured as a final rest after all my woes and
wanderings. From mutual esteem our acquaintance soon ripened into
mutual love. She was all that my heart could desire. I was tolerably
well off; my position was reputable; my connections were
respectable. To us, and to our friends, the match seemed a most
desirable one. It was no hasty courtship; we knew each other for
months and learned to know each other well; and with true love for
each other, we had for each other a genuine respect. I frankly told
her the whole story of my life as I have now written it. She only
pitied my misfortunes, pardoned my errors, and, one bright, golden,
happy autumn day, we were married.
In the northeastern part of the State of New York on the banks of a
broad and beautiful river, spread out far and near the fertile acres
of one of the finest farms in the country. It is well stocked and
well tilled. The surrounding country is charming--game in the woods,
and fish in the streams afford abundant sport, and the region is far
away from large cities, and remote even from railroads. I do not
know of a more delightful place in the whole world to live in. On
the farm I speak of, a cottage roof covers a peaceful, happy family,
where content and comfort always seem to reign supreme.
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