Excerpt from The Californian Crusoe: Or, the Lost Treasure Found; A Tale of Mormonism
In a delightful valley in the eastern part of Lancashire I first beheld the light of day. My father, George Richards, was a small but respectable landed proprietor in the parish of Pillington. From his little estate he derived a sufficiency of the comforts of life, together with the means of bringing up his family in a plain but reputable manner. Even now, at the distance of nearly half the globe, and after the lapse of long years of trial and misfortune, my paternal home is distinctly impressed upon the tablet of my memory.
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