It&nbsp;might be thought that people who lived on Groundnut Hill, in Palmyra, would have no more story to tell than the needy knife-grinder, but as Hiram Nute, the essence-peddler, says, &ldquo;Wherever there&rsquo;s human nater and the Lord&rsquo;s providence, there&rsquo;s apt to be consid&rsquo;able goin&rsquo; on.&rdquo;<br />Perhaps there was more &ldquo;goin&rsquo; on&rdquo; in our family from the fact that the human nature is somewhat mixed. There is sure to be an astonishing variety in any large family, I have observed, even when there are not, as in ours,two sets of children. But the queer differences with us are all set down to the fact of mother&rsquo;s second marriage. She was Deacon Partridge&rsquo;s daughter, and she married the Rev. Cyrus Dill, who was the &ldquo;stated supply&rdquo; at Palmyra, the summer that she was nineteen. He received a call to a small church in a large city, and three children were born there, Cyrus, Octavia and I. I am Bathsheba. They named me after my Grandmother Dill, because she was a woman who feared the Lord. It was my father&rsquo;s behest, and was so set down in his will&mdash;he died just after I was born. The will was pasted into the family Bible. Every one said it was a beautiful will, because, while he had scarcely any material possessions, he yet bequeathed so much.