the poet at the breakfast table-第4节

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to　be。　　The　middle…aged　and　young　men　have　left　comparatively　faint
impressions　in　my　memory；　but　how　grandly　the　procession　of　the　old
clergymen　who　filled　our　pulpit　from　time　to　time；　and　passed　the　day
under　our　roof；　marches　before　my　closed　eyes！　　At　their　head　the
most　venerable　David　Osgood；　the　majestic　minister　of　Medford；　with
massive　front　and　shaggy　over…shadowing　eyebrows；　following　in　the
train；　mild…eyed　John　Foster　of　Brighton；　with　the　lambent　aurora　of
a　smile　about　his　pleasant　mouth；　which　not　even　the　〃Sabbath〃　could
subdue　to　the　true　Levitical　aspect；　and　bulky　Charles　Steams　of
Lincoln；　author　of　〃The　Ladies'　Philosophy　of　Love。　　A　Poem。　　1797〃
（how　I　stared　at　him！　he　was　the　first　living　person　ever　pointed　out
to　me　as　a　poet）；　and　Thaddeus　Mason　Harris　of　Dorchester　（the　same
who；　a　poor　youth；　trudging　along；　staff　in　hand；　being　then　in　a
stress　of　sore　need；　found　all　at　once　that　somewhat　was　adhering　to
the　end　of　his　stick；　which　somewhat　proved　to　be　a　gold　ring　of
price；　bearing　the　words；　〃God　speed　thee；　Friend！〃）；　already　in
decadence　as　I　remember　him；　with　head　slanting　forward　and　downward
as　if　looking　for　a　place　to　rest　in　after　his　learned　labors；　and
that　other　Thaddeus；　the　old　man　of　West　Cambridge；　who　outwatched
the　rest　so　long　after　they　had　gone　to　sleep　in　their　own
churchyards；　that　it　almost　seemed　as　if　he　meant　to　sit　up　until　the
morning　of　the　resurrection；　and　bringing　up　the　rear；　attenuated　but
vivacious　little　Jonathan　Homer　of　Newton；　who　was；　to　look　upon；　a
kind　of　expurgated；　reduced　and　Americanized　copy　of　Voltaire；　but
very　unlike　him　in　wickedness　or　wit。　　The　good…humored　junior　member
of　our　family　always　loved　to　make　him　happy　by　setting　him
chirruping　about　Miles　Coverdale's　Version；　and　the　Bishop's　Bible；
and　how　he　wrote　to　his　friend　Sir　Isaac　（Coffin）　about　something　or
other；　and　how　Sir　Isaac　wrote　back　that　he　was　very　much　pleased
with　the　contents　of　his　letter；　and　so　on　about　Sir　Isaac；　ad
libitum；for　the　admiral　was　his　old　friend；　and　he　was　proud　of
him。　　The　kindly　little　old　gentleman　was　a　collector　of　Bibles；　and
made　himself　believe　he　thought　he　should　publish　a　learned
Commentary　some　day　or　other；　but　his　friends　looked　for　it　only　in
the　Greek　Calends；say　on　the　31st　of　April；　when　that　should　come
round；　if　you　would　modernize　the　phrase。　　I　recall　also　one　or　two
exceptional　and　infrequent　visitors　with　perfect　distinctness：
cheerful　Elijah　Kellogg；　a　lively　missionary　from　the　region　of　the
Quoddy　Indians；　with　much　hopeful　talk　about　Sock　Bason　and　his
tribe；　also　poor　old　Poor…house…Parson　Isaac　Smith；　his　head　going
like　a　China　mandarin；　as　he　discussed　the　possibilities　of　the
escape　of　that　distinguished　captive　whom　he　spoke　of　under　the　name；
if　I　can　reproduce　phonetically　its　vibrating　nasalities　of　〃General
Mmbongaparty；〃a　name　suggestive　to　my　young　imagination　of　a
dangerous；　loose…jointed　skeleton；　threatening　us　all　like　the　armed
figure　of　Death　in　my　little　New　England　Primer。

I　have　mentioned　only　the　names　of　those　whose　images　come　up
pleasantly　before　me；　and　I　do　not　mean　to　say　anything　which　any
descendant　might　not　read　smilingly。　　But　there　were　some　of　the
black…coated　gentry　whose　aspect　was　not　so　agreeable　to　me。　　It　is
very　curious　to　me　to　look　back　on　my　early　likes　and　dislikes；　and
see　how　as　a　child　I　was　attracted　or　repelled　by　such　and　such
ministers；　a　good　deal；　as　I　found　out　long　afterwards；　according　to
their　theological　beliefs。　　On　the　whole；　I　think　the　old…fashioned
New　England　divine　softening　down　into　Arminianism　was　about　as
agreeable　as　any　of　them。　　And　here　I　may　remark；　that　a　mellowing
rigorist　is　always　a　much　pleasanter　object　to　contemplate　than　a
tightening　liberal；　as　a　cold　day　warming　up　to　32　Fahrenheit　is　much
more　agreeable　than　a　warm　one　chilling　down　to　the　same　temperature。
The　least　pleasing　change　is　that　kind　of　mental　hemiplegia　which　now
and　then　attacks　the　rational　side　of　a　man　at　about　the　same　period
of　life　when　one　side　of　the　body　is　liable　to　be　palsied；　and　in
fact　is；　very　probably；　the　same　thing　as　palsy；　in　another　form。
The　worst　of　it　is　that　the　subjects　of　it　never　seem　to　suspect　that
they　are　intellectual　invalids；　stammerers　and　cripples　at　best；　but
are　all　the　time　hitting　out　at　their　old　friends　with　the　well　arm；
and　calling　them　hard　names　out　of　their　twisted　mouths。

It　was　a　real　delight　to　have　one　of　those　good；　hearty；　happy；
benignant　old　clergymen　pass　the　Sunday；　with　us；　and　I　can　remember。
some　whose　advent　made　the　day　feel　almost　like　〃Thanksgiving。〃　But
now　and　then　would　come　along　a　clerical　visitor　with　a　sad　face　and
a　wailing　voice；　which　sounded　exactly　as　if　somebody　must　be　lying
dead　up　stairs；　who　took　no　interest　in　us　children；　except　a　painful
one；　as　being　in　a　bad　way　with　our　cheery　looks；　and　did　more　to
unchristianize　us　with　his　woebegone　ways　than　all　his　sermons　were
like　to　accomplish　in　the　other　direction。　　I　remember　one　in
particular；　who　twitted　me　so　with　my　blessings　as　a　Christian　child；
and　whined　so　to　me　about　the　naked　black　children　who；　like　the
〃Little　Vulgar　Boy；〃　〃had　n't　got　no　supper　and　hadn't　got　no　ma；〃
and　hadn't　got　no　Catechism；　（how　I　wished　for　the　moment　I　was　a
little　black　boy！）　that　he　did　more　in　that　one　day　to　make　me　a
heathen　than　he　had　ever　done　in　a　month　to　make　a　Christian　out　of
an　infant　Hottentot。　　What　a　debt　we　owe　to　our　friends　of　the　left
centre；　the　Brooklyn　and　the　Park　Street　and　the　Summer　street
ministers；　good；　wholesome；　sound…bodied；　one…minded；　cheerful…
spirited　men；　who　have　taken　the　place　of　those　wailing　poitrinaires
with　the　bandanna　handkerchiefs　round　their　meagre　throats　and　a
funeral　service　in　their　forlorn　physiognomies！　　I　might　have　been　a
minister　myself；　for　aught　I　know；　if　this　clergyman　had　not　looked
and　talked　so　like　an　undertaker。

All　this　belongs　to　one　of　the　side…shows；　to　which　I　promised　those
who　would　take　tickets　to　the　main　exhibition　should　have　entrance
gratis。　　If　I　were　writing　a　poem　you　would　expect；　as　a　matter　of
course；　that　there　would　be　a　digression　now　and　then。

To　come　back　to　the　old　house　and　its　former　tenant；　the　Professor　of
Hebrew　and　other　Oriental　languages。　　Fifteen　years　he　lived　with　his
family　under　its　roof。　　I　never　found　the　slightest　trace　of　him
until　a　few　years　ago；　when　I　cleaned　and　brightened　with　pious　hands
the　brass　lock　of　〃the　study；〃　which　had　for　many　years　been　covered
with　a　thick　coat　of　paint。　　On　that　I　found　scratched；　as　with　a
nail　or　fork；　the　following　inscription：
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　E　PE

Only　that　and　nothing　more；　but　the　story　told　itself。　　Master　Edward
Pearson；　then　about　as　high　as　the　lock；　was　disposed　to　immortalize
himself　in　monumental　brass；　and　had　got　so　far　towards　it；　when　a
sudden　interruption；　probably　a　smart　box　on　the　ear；　cheated　him　of
his　fame；　except　so　far　as　this　poor　record　may　rescue　it。　　Dead　long
ago。　　I　remember　him　well；　a　grown　man；　as　a　visitor　at　a　later
period；　and；　for　some　reason；　I　recall　him　in　the　attitude　of　the
Colossus　of　Rhodes；　standing　full　before　a　generous　wood…fire；　not
facing　it；　but　quite　the　contrary；　a　perfect　picture　of　the　content
afforded　by　a　blazing　hearth　contemplated　from　that　point　of　view；
and；　as　the　heat　stole　through　his　person　and　kindled　his　emphatic
features；　seeming　to　me　a　pattern　of　manly　beauty。　　What　a　statue
gallery　of　posturing　friends　we　all　have　in　our　memory！　　The　old
Professor　himself　sometimes　visited　the　house　after　it　had　changed
hands。　　Of　course；　my　recollections　are　not　to　be　wholly　trusted；　but
I　always　think　I　see　his　likeness　in　a　profile　face　to　be　found　among
the　illustrations　of　Rees's　Cyclopaedia。　　（See　Plates；　Vol。　IV。；
Plate　2；　Painting；　Diversities　of　the　Human　Face；　Fig。　4。）

And　now　let　us　return　to　our　chief　picture。　　In　the　days　of　my
earliest　remembrance；　a　row　of　tall　Lombardy　poplars　mounted　guard　on
the　western　side　of　the　old　mansion。　　Whether；　like　the　cypress；
these　trees　suggest　the　idea　of　the　funeral　torch　or　the　monumental
spire；　whether　their　tremulous　leaves　make　wits　afraid　by　sympathy
with　their　nervous　thrills；　whether　the　faint　balsamic　smell　of　their
foliage　and　their　closely　swathed　limbs　have　in　them　vague　hints　of
dead　Pharaohs　stiffened　in　their　cerements；　I　will　guess；　but　they
always　seemed　to　me　to　give　an　of　sepulchral　sadness　to　the　house
before　which　stood　sentries。　　Not　so　with　the　row　of　elms　which　you
may　see　leading　up　towards　the　western　entrance。　　I　think　the
patriarch　of　them　all　went　over　in　the　great　gale　of　1815；　I　know　I
used　to　shake　the　youngest　of　them　with　my　hands；　stout　as　it　is　now；
with　a　trunk　that　would　defy　the　bully　of　Crotona；　or　the　strong　man
whose　liaison　with　the　Lady　Delilah　proved　so　disastrous。

The　College　plain　would　be　nothing　without　its　elms。　　As　the　long
hair　of　a　woman　is　a　glory　to　her；　are　these　green　tresses　that　bank
themselves　against　sky　in　thick　clustered　masses　the　ornament　and　the
pride　of　the　classic　green。　　You　know　the　〃Washington