The Doctor's first care was to replenish the fire with
a few sturdy pieces of wood. All through the States, I have observed
that the task of feeding the fire generally devolves on the head of the
family. In this little room I was introduced to Mrs. Beecher. She is, I
believe, the third lady on whom the Doctor has conferred his name. In
one corner of this apartment was a gun, and on the sofa a heap of shot.
Thousands of wild pigeons were flying about. The visit of these birds
made the Doctor very uneasy. He was ever and anon snatching up his gun,
and going out to have a pop at them. Though upwards of seventy years of
age, he is an excellent marksman. It was to me a little odd to see a
venerable D.D., a Professor of Theology, handling a fowling-piece! The
Americans, have by circumstances been trained to great skill in the use
of fire-arms. The gun, however, proved a fatal instrument in the hands
of one of the Doctor's sons, a young man of great promise, who was
killed by the accidental explosion of one. Nevertheless, Dr. Beecher
has five sons, all (like himself) in the ministry! He has a maiden
daughter, who has distinguished herself by her literary attainments and
active benevolence.
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