My father was kind and caressing, when he had leisure to indulge his parental sensibilities; but he could not sympathize in my childish joys and sorrows, for I dared not confide them to him.

He was a man, and, moreover, there was something in the gilded pomp of his martial dress, that inspired too much awe for childish familiarity.

I used to gaze at him, when he appeared on military parade, as if he were one of the demi-gods of the ancient world.

He had an erect and warlike bearing, a proud, firm step, and his gold epaulette with its glittering tassels flashing in the sunbeams, his crimson sash contrasting so splendidly with the military blue, his shining sword and waving plume,--all impressed me with a grandeur that was overpowering.
It dazzled my eye, but did not warm my young heart.
"As I grew older, I exhibited a remarkable love of reading, and as no one took the trouble to direct my tastes, I seized every book which came within my reach and devoured it, with the avidity of a hungry and unoccupied mind.

My father was a gentleman of pure and elegant taste, and had he dreamed that I was exposed, without guardianship, to dangerous influences, he would have shielded and warned me.