'climbing to the top of a bookcase, [he] brought down a thick volume and presented it to me. "You'll find all about the Antilles there", he said, and left me with "Tom Cringle's Log" in my possession. [explains mother's attitude to fiction and why he'd never read any till now] So little did I understand what was allowable in the way of literary invention that I had began the story without a doubt that it was true, and I think it was my Father himself who, in answer to an inquiry, explained to me that it was "all made up". He advised me to read the descriptions of the sea, and of the mountains of Jamaica, and "skip" the pages which gave imaginary adventures and conversations. But I did not take his counsel; these latter were the flower of the book to me.' [more account on pp.143-4]