mother's life he never
quite opened himself to me--since I knew the value and splendour of that
affection which he bestowed upon me, that I have come to understand and
pardon what, I own, used to anger me in my mother's lifetime, her jealousy
respecting her husband's love. 'Twas a gift so precious, that no wonder
she who had it was for keeping it all, and could part with none of it,
even to her daughter.

Though I never heard my father use a rough word, 'twas extraordinary with
how much awe his people regarded him; and the servants on our plantation,
both those assigned from England and the purchased negroes, obeyed him
with an eagerness such as the most severe taskmasters round about us could
never get from their people. He was never familiar, though perfectly
simple and natural; he was the same with the meanest man as with the
greatest, and as courteous to a black slave-girl as to the governor's
wife. No one ever thought of taking a liberty with him (except once a
tipsy gentleman from York, and I am bound to own that my papa never
forgave him): he set the humblest people at once on their ease with him,
and brought down the most arrogant by a grave satiric way, which made
persons exceedingly afraid of him. His courtesy was not put on like a
Sunday suit, and laid by when the company went away; it was always the
same; as he was always dressed the same whether for a dinner by ourselves
or for a great entertainment. They say he liked to be the first in his
company; but what company was there in which he would not be first? When I
went to Europe for my education, and we passed a winter at London with my
half-brother, my Lord Castlewood and his second lady, I saw at her
Majesty's Court some of the most famous gentlemen of those days; and I
thought to myself, "None of these are better than my papa"; and the famous
Lord Bolingbroke, who came to us from Dawley, said as much, and that the
men of that time were not like those of his youth:--"Were your father,
madam," he said, "to go into the woods, the Indians would elect him
Sachem;" and his lordship was pleased to call me Pocahontas.

I did not see our other relative, Bishop Tusher's lady, of whom so much is
said in my papa's memoirs--although my mamma went to visit her in the
country. I have no pride (as I showed by complying with my mother's
request, and marrying a gentleman who was but the younger son of a Suffolk
baronet), yet I own to a _decent respect_ for my name, and w