My mother educated her six daughters unassisted by any one. During the summer months, the crowds of visitors to my grandfather who filled the house and engrossed much of her time, interrupted our studies and made us lose much precious time; but she had the art of awakening an interest in what she taught us, and exciting a desire for improvement, which made us make the most of the quiet winter months which she could devote to us. She was a good musician, and was fond of gardening; she superintended personally all household matters, and in the winter evenings when my grandfather was seated in his arm-chair in the chimney corner, a small candle-stand was placed between them, and they spent the evenings reading. She had all the tastes which made country life agreeable, without losing her relish for the attractions of town life. Such was my mother as I knew her, and I remember her most perfectly. She was the mother of twelve children, eleven of whom lived to grow up.
"My youngest sister's name was Septimia. She was my mother's seventh daughter, and her name was the occasion of a poetic compliment to my mother from an old Portuguese gentleman, the Abbe Correa de Serra, who visited my grandfather every year during his long residence in Philadelphia. He was for several years Portuguese Ambassador to the United States. His learning, his interesting and instructive conversation, the amiable, child-like simplicity of his character and manners, made this old philosopher alike attractive to
