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6 A FEW MEMORIES
painfully close to me, she promised hurriedly to give the men all she had, only begging that they would return the child to her at once. The result was that they took away all the money in the house—a considerable sum—several gold and silver ornaments, and the only portrait of my father in existence, a miniature which they coveted for the diamonds surrounding it. Had my mother lost her presence of mind, or, womanlike, indulged in the usual scream, there would doubtless have been, then and there, an end to all my earthly joys and sorrows; but she was, and always has been, remarkably cool and collected in times of real danger—more so than many men. The robbers evidently admired her pluck, for they gave her a polite "Good-night, ma'am," as, heavily laden, they made their exit from the window.
We left Sacramento when I was still a child in arms, my mother wishing to be near her uncle, who was pastor of a small German congregation near Louisville, Kentucky. Her parents had not forgiven her for marrying against their wishes, and she felt the need of a friend during the frequent absences of my father in England. We took up our abode in Louisville in 1860. As this uncle became our guardian after my father's