From early babyhood until she was 3½ years old, she was addicted to sudden & raging tempests of passion. Coaxing was tried; reasoning was tried; diversion was tried; even bribery; also, deprivations of various kinds; also captivity in a corner; in fact, everything was tried that ever had been tried with any child—but all to no purpose. Indeed the storms grew more frequent. At last we dropped every feature of the system utterly & resorted to flogging. Since that day there has never been a better child. We had to whip her once a day, at first; then three times a week; then twice, then once a week; then twice a month. She is nearly 4½ years old, now, & I have only touched her once in the last 3 months. “Spare the rod & spoil the child” was well said.—& not by an amateur, I judge. (SLC 1876–85, 2)

one of the most extensive private houses in the city, and one of marked architectural importance. . . . It is constructed of Westerly granite with rock-face ashlar, the finish being of the same material dressed and relieved by belts and courses of rose granite. The design is Gothic, and all the details are carefully executed. A characteristic feature of the principal floor plan is the wide hall, forty-five feet in length, extending entirely through the house from east to west, and displaying midway upon one of the side walls a lofty hooded fireplace built of Ohio stone enriched by carving. The stable and coachman’s quarters are so connected with the main building as to form part in the same general design. The prominent feature of the house is a square tower finished at its upper portion in timber-work. (Trumbull, 1:476, 511–12, 666–67)

I brought her home & set the experts to work on her. They tried her in a green house, but she wouldn’t go; they tried her in the back yard; in the front yard; in the stable; in the cellar, on top of the house; in the kitchen; in bed—everywhere, dear, sir, but she was calm, she was indifferent, she gave no sign. We even set her in that apartment of ours which we call the “department of household expenses”; but even there, by a superhuman struggle, she made out ‸to‸ not to grow. We tried different kinds of earth—all the different kinds there are, sending to the remote islands of the sea & the far lands of the globe for supplies; but they roused no more emotion in her than prayer would in a cat. We fed her with common manure; with guano; with ashes, hair restorative, gold filings, milk breast milk, cow’s milk, condensed milk, imperial granum, whale oil, whisky, Pond’s Extract, blue mass, vasiline, kerosene, Epsom salts, government bonds—in fact everything in the nature of a persuader that could be thought of; but it was of no use; she still slumbered on, holding along all aloft her stiff little limbs, as leafless & expressionless as those of a dead daddylonglegs. But mind you, she was not dead; no, during all that time she had never once been dead; during all those months & years of rebellion against nature & constituted authority, she was clandestinely alive. Yes, every June she would put out five or six pallid little buds, about the size of seed pearls, & leave them so till we had called witnesses & verified the fact, then she would take them in again & save them for next year. (SLC 1880, 5–8)