Excerpt from Home, Sweet Home, Vol. 1 of 3: A Novel (Classic Reprint)
It is not often people begin a story by telling what their eyes beheld; but I am compelled to do so, since that house and those trees, the green hillside, the sward across which lay broad shadows and broader patches of sunshine, always pass before my mind's eye when I sit down 'in the twilight and think about those early days which are now a portion of the long ago.
My own home plays a very small part in the programme memory recalls when com pared with that large white house, and the fir plantations reflected dark and grim against the horizon.