Then， in somewhat a more heightened tone， I told how， though their great-grandmother Field loved all her grand-children， yet in an especial manner she might be said to love their uncle， John L.—， because he was so handsome and spirited a youth， and a king to the rest of us； and， instead of moping about in solitary comers， like some of us， he would mount the most mettlesome horse he could get， when but an imp no bigger than themselves， and make it carry him half over the county in a morning， and join the hunters when there were any out—and yet he loved the old great house and gardens too， but had too much spirit to be always pent up within their bounties—and how their uncle grew up to man’s estate as brave as he was handsome， to the admiration of everybody， but of their great-grandmother Field most especially； and how he used to carry me upon his back when I was a lame—footed boy—for he was a good bit older than me—many a mile when I could not walk for pain； —and how in after life he became lame-footed too， and I did not always (I fear) make allowances enough for him when he was impatient and in pain， nor remember sufficiently how considerate he had been to me when I was lame-footed； and how when he died， though he had not been dead an hour， it seemed as if he had died a great while ago， such a distance there is betwixt life and death； and how I bore his death ask thought pretty well at first， but afterwards it haunted and haunted me； and though I did not cry or take it to heart as some do， and as I think he would have done if I had died， yet I missed him all day long， and knew not till then how much I had loved him， I missed his kindness， and I missed his crossness， and wished him to be alive again， to be quarrelling with him (for we quarreled sometimes)， rather than not have him again， and was as uneasy without him， as he their poor uncle must have been when the doctor took off his limbo Here the children fell a crying， and asked if their little mourning which they had on was not for uncle John， and they looked up， and prayed me not to go on about their uncle， but to tell them some stories about their pretty dead mother.