Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Tramping Methodist
I can clearly remember that frown, though time and peace have long Since worn away all traces of it, except two upright lines between my brows. I first noticed it when, as a child Of Six, I caught Sight of myself in a mirror and saw the sullen, swarthy little face, with its beetling brows and angry grey eyes beneath them. I then realised how I deserved the epithets constantly hurled at me by my parents and Clonmel Of Little beast! Little devil!
I was an unfavourable Specimen Of childhood - stiff, moody, sullen, and untractable, my bosom always seething with furious passions. I had no affection for my family, as I knew they did not love me or take any interest in me. Archie and Kit were coarse and rough, Fanny and Tilly were vain and would-be-genteel; my mother neglected me, and my father and Clonmel kicked and beat me. So I shunned them all, and would mope by myself about the house, Sitting for hours, my head sunk on my breast, in the recess Of some window-seat, or on the attic stairs, where, as they were rickety and unsafe with age, I was sure Of comparative peace.
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