My father, Thomas Leeds Mitchel, of Groton, Connecticut, was a cotton merchant in Apalachicola, Florida, a small but important city at the mouth of the Chattahoochie River. As there were few railroads, all the cotton raised in the interior was shipped down the river to be compressed and taken down the bay, where steamers and sailing vessels were waiting to carry it to England or the Northern States. Father was one of the earliest settlers, and held important positions of trust in city and church. His wife, Sophia Brownell, of Providence, Rhode Island, a woman of strong character, was well fitted to stand by his side and help him establish a home in an almost new country. The society of Apalachicola was unusually good. A number of Northern families who had been drawn there as my father had, and families from Virginia and other Southern States, brought together elements of culture and refinement unusual in so small and primitive a town. Father, being a Northerner by birth and training, was essentially Northern in his sentiments. He did not believe in slavery. While he employed many negroes, he owned only three, and they had come to him imploring him to buy them, as otherwise they would be sold in the open market. They were faithful, valuable servants, and became real members of our family. One of them, "Uncle Young," as we always called him, was sent as a representative to the State Legislature after the war. But he never forgot the old times, and not long before father died, he received a letter from him which began, "Dear Mast' Tom."