Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from A Family History, Vol. 1 of 3
I was very happy on this journey. I liked to look out of the stage-coach windows, and see the houses and fields and hedges all running along, while we sat still. My father told me I was mistaken, that it was we who were moving, while the fields and hedges remained in their places; but I found it very difficult to believe him.
Then, when evening began to close in, and the light faded, and everything became hazy and indistinct, and my eyes grew heavy, papa took me on his knee more kindly and caressingly than usual, and let me nestle my weary little head against him, and fall fast asleep.
The rattling of the coach-wheels over a stone pavement woke me up, to see streets of tall. Houses that seemed to have no end, the glare and glitter of innumerable lamps; to hear a confused noise of carts, and carriages, and voices, and the tramp of thousands of feet. We were in London. The coach stopped; my father lifted me out, carried me into a house, and consigned me to a woman he called chamber-maid, by whom I was undressed and put to bed.
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