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themselves against sky in thick clustered masses the ornament and the
pride of the classic green。  You know the 〃Washington elm;〃 or if you
do not; you had better rekindle our patriotism by reading the
inscription; which tells you that under its shadow the great leader
first drew his sword at the head of an American army。  In a line with
that you may see two others: the coral fan; as I always called it
from its resemblance in form to that beautiful marine growth; and a
third a little farther along。  I have heard it said that all three
were planted at the same time; and that the difference of their
growth is due to the slope of the ground;the Washington elm being
lower than either of the others。  There is a row of elms just in
front of the old house on the south。  When I was a child the one at
the southwest corner was struck by lightning; and one of its limbs
and a long ribbon of bark torn away。  The tree never fully recovered
its symmetry and vigor; and forty years and more afterwards a second
thunderbolt crashed upon it and set its heart on fire; like those of
the lost souls in the Hall of Eblis。  Heaven had twice blasted it;
and the axe finished what the lightning had begun。

The soil of the University town is divided into patches of sandy and
of clayey ground。  The Common and the College green; near which the
old house stands; are on one of the sandy patches。  Four curses are
the local inheritance: droughts; dust; mud; and canker…worms。  I
cannot but think that all the characters of a region help to modify
the children born in it。  I am fond of making apologies for human
nature; and I think I could find an excuse for myself if I; too; were
dry and barren and muddy…witted and 〃cantankerous;〃disposed to get
my back up; like those other natives of the soil。

I know this; that the way Mother Earth treats a boy shapes out a kind
of natural theology for him。  I fell into Manichean ways of thinking
from the teaching of my garden experiences。  Like other boys in the
country; I had my patch of ground; to which; in the spring…time; I
entrusted the seeds furnished me; with a confident trust in their
resurrection and glorification in the better world of summer。  But I
soon found that my lines had fallen in a place where a vegetable
growth had to run the gauntlet of as many foes and dials as a
Christian pilgrim。  Flowers would not Blow; daffodils perished like
criminals in their cone demned caps; without their petals ever seeing
daylight; roses were disfigured with monstrous protrusions 〃through
their very centres;something that looked like a second bud pushing
through the middle of the corolla; lettuces and cabbages would not
head; radishes knotted themselves until they looked like
centenerians' fingers; and on every stem; on every leaf; and both
sides of it; and at the root of everything that dew; was a
professional specialist in the shape of grub; caterpillar; aphis; or
other expert; whose business it was to devour that particular part;
and help order the whole attempt at vegetation。  Such experiences
must influence a child born to them。  A sandy soil; where nothing
flourishes but weeds and evil beasts of small dimensions; must breed
different qualities in its human offspring from one of those fat and
fertile spots which the wit whom I have once before noted described
so happily that; if I quoted the passage; its brilliancy would spoil
one of my pages; as a diamond breastpin sometimes kills the social
effect of the wearer; who might have passed for a gentleman without
it。  Your arid patch of earth should seem to the natural birthplace
of the leaner virtues and the abler vices;of temperance and the
domestic proprieties on the one hand; with a tendency to light
weights in groceries and provisions; and to clandestine abstraction
from the person on the other; as opposed to the free hospitality; the
broadly planned burglaries; and the largely conceived homicides of
our rich Western alluvial regions。  Yet Nature is never wholly
unkind。  Economical as she was in my unparadised Eden; hard as it was
to make some of my floral houris unveil; still the damask roses
sweetened the June breezes; the bladed and plumed flower…de…luces
unfolded their close…wrapped cones; and larkspurs and lupins; lady's
delights;plebeian manifestations of the pansy; self…sowing
marigolds; hollyhocks; the forest flowers of two seasons; and the
perennial lilacs and syringas; all whispered to' the winds blowing
over them that some caressing presence was around me。

Beyond the garden was 〃the field;〃 a vast domain of four acres or
thereabout; by the measurement of after years; bordered to the north
by a fathomless chasm; the ditch the base…ball players of the
present era jump over; on the east by unexplored territory; on the
south by a barren enclosure; where the red sorrel proclaimed liberty
and equality under its drapeau rouge; and succeeded in establishing a
vegetable commune where all were alike; poor; mean; sour; and
uninteresting; and on the west by the Common; not then disgraced by
jealous enclosures; which make it look like a cattle…market。  Beyond;
as I looked round; were the Colleges; the meeting…house; the little
square market…house; long vanished; the burial…ground where the dead
Presidents stretched their weary bones under epitaphs stretched out
at as full length as their subjects; the pretty church where the
gouty Tories used to kneel on their hassocks; the district
schoolhouse; and hard by it Ma'am Hancock's cottage; never so called
in those days; but rather 〃tenfooter〃; then houses scattered near and
far; open spaces; the shadowy elms; round hilltops in the distance;
and over all the great bowl of the sky。 Mind you; this was the WORLD;
as I first knew it; terra veteribus cognita; as Mr。 Arrowsmith would
have called it; if he had mapped the universe of my infancy:

But I am forgetting the old house again in the landscape。  The worst
of a modern stylish mansion is; that it has no place for ghosts。  I
watched one building not long since。  It had no proper garret; to
begin with; only a sealed interval between the roof and attics; where
a spirit could not be accommodated; unless it were flattened out like
Ravel; Brother; after the millstone had fallen on him。  There was not
a nook or a corner in the whole horse fit to lodge any respectable
ghost; for every part was as open to observation as a literary man's
character and condition; his figure and estate; his coat and his
countenance; are to his (or her) Bohemian Majesty on a tour of
inspection through his (or her) subjects' keyholes。

Now the old house had wainscots; behind which the mice were always
scampering and squeaking and rattling down the plaster; and enacting
family scenes and parlor theatricals。  It had a cellar where the cold
slug clung to the walls; and the misanthropic spider withdrew from
the garish day; where the green mould loved to grow; and the long
white potato…shoots went feeling along the floor; if haply they might
find the daylight; it had great brick pillars; always in a cold sweat
with holding up the burden they had been aching under day and night
far a century and more; it had sepulchral arches closed by rough
doors that hung on hinges rotten with rust; behind which doors; if
there was not a heap of bones connected with a mysterious
disappearance of long ago; there well might have been; for it was
just the place to look for them。  It had a garret; very nearly such a
one as it seems to me one of us has described in one of his books;
but let us look at this one as I can reproduce it from memory。  It
has a flooring of laths with ridges of mortar squeezed up between
them; which if you tread on you will go tothe Lord have mercy on
you! where will you go to?the same being crossed by narrow bridges
of boards; on which you may put your feet; but with fear and
trembling。  Above you and around you are beams and joists; on some of
which you may see; when the light is let in; the marks of the
conchoidal clippings of the broadaxe; showing the rude way in which
the timber was shaped as it came; full of sap; from the neighboring
forest。  It is a realm of darkness and thick dust; and shroud…like
cobwebs and dead things they wrap in their gray folds。  For a garret
is like a seashore; where wrecks are thrown up and slowly go to
pieces。  There is the cradle which the old man you just remember was
rocked in; there is the ruin of the bedstead he died on; that ugly
slanting contrivance used to be put under his pillow in the days when
his breath came hard; there is his old chair with both arms gone;
symbol of the desolate time when he had nothing earthly left to lean
on; there is the large wooden reel which the blear…eyed old deacon
sent the minister's lady; who thanked him graciously; and twirled it
smilingly; and in fitting season bowed it out decently to the limbo
of troublesome conveniences。  And there are old leather portmanteaus;
like stranded porpoises; their mouths gaping in gaunt hunger for the
food with which they used to be gorged to bulging repletion; and old
brass andirons; waiting until time shall revenge them on their paltry
substitutes; and they shall have their own

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