his habit, each Sunday morning, to go through these, accompanying himself on the piano with one hand (he could never master the bass); and the strains of ‘Coronation,’ ‘Heborn,’ ‘Ward
,’ ‘Majesty,’ and other familiar tunes, would waken the sleepers above, who, claiming their Sunday morning privilege, were still lingering in their beds.
He had a great fondness for pet animals, especially cats, who instinctively recognized him as their friend and would come and jump into his lap at first sight and without invitation.
From earliest boyhood he had one or more pussies, and his first great sorrow was being compelled to drown an old favorite whose days of usefulness were considered past.
He never forgot the agony of that experience.
A pleasanter remembrance was of the demonstrations of delight with which another pet cat greeted him, on his return home after a considerable absence.
A little while after the boy had gone to bed he was awakened by the rubbing of soft fur against his face, and found that puss had brought her latest litter of kittens, born while he was away, and had deposited them, one by one, about his head.
‘My eyes moistened when I realized what she had done,’ he said, ‘and we all slept in one bed that night.’
During their mother's absence in Lynn
, the children heard frequently from her by letter, and Lloyd
was able to write to her in reply.
Her little notes to him were full of tender affection and earnest hope that he would be a good and dutiful boy. Already her health and strength were beginning to fail, after her arduous struggle to maintain herself and her children; and her inability now to do continuous work made it all the more imperative that they should learn trades that would enable them to become self-supporting.
was brought to Lynn
to learn shoemaking, and apprenticed to Gamaliel W. Oliver
, an excellent man and a member of the Society of Friends, who lived on Market Street and had a modest workshop in the yard adjoining his house.
There the little boy, who was only nine