Part 8 (1/2)

We were told to whisper ”Oranges” or ”Leer enlistment, whether British or American

And then there was ”Grandmother Gray,” and the

”Old woman from Newfoundland, With all her children in her hand;”

and the

”Knight frohter Jane,”

and nu a distinct Old World flavor One of our play-places was an unoccupied end of the burying-ground, overhung by the Colonel's apple-trees and close under his wall, so that we should not be too near the grave-stones

I do not think that death was at all a real thing to me or to raveyard that it seearden We wandered there at will, trying to decipher the s of cross-bones and cherubs and -trees on the gray slate-stones I did not associate those long green h ere careful, having been so instructed, not to step on the graves To ramble about there and puzzle ourselves with the naes of a curious old book We had not the least feeling of irreverence in taking the edge of the grave-yard for our playground It was known as ”the old burying-ground”; and we children regarded it with a sort of affectionate freedorandmother, because it was old

That, indeed, was one peculiar attraction of the town itself; it was old, and it seemed old, much older than it does now There was only one main street, said to have been the first settlers' cowpath to Wenha picturesqueness All the rest were courts or lanes

The town used to wear a delightful air of drowsiness, as if she had stretched herself out for an afternoon nap, with her head towards her oldtowards the sea, till she felt at her feet, through her green robes, the clip of the deep water at the Faroing ways a th of character, as of a town that understood her own plans, and had settled down to peaceful, permanent habits Her spirit was that of most of our Massachusetts coast-towns They were transplanted shoots of Old England And it was the voice of a mother-country more ancient than their own, that little children heard crooning across the sea in their cradle-hys

VI

GLIMPSES OF POETRY

OUR close relationshi+p to Old England was so to us juveniles The conditions of our life were entirely different, but we read her descriptive stories and sang her songs as if they were true for us, too One of the first things I learned to repeat--I think it was in the spelling-book--began with the verse:--

”I thank the goodness and the grace That on my birth has slish child”

And some lines of a very familiar hymn by Dr Watts ran thus:--

”Whene'er I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see

”How many children in the street Half naked I behold; While I am clothed froed, half-clothed child, or one that could really be called poor, in the extrehts in a thrifty New England town fifty years ago I used to look sharply for those children, but I never could see one And a beggar! Oh, if a real beggar would co, like the one described in

”Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,”

what a wonderful event that would be! I believe I had norance, too, than about a king The poem read:--

”A pampered menial drove me from the door”

What sort of creature could a ”pa that had ever come under our observation corresponded to the words Nor was it easy for us to attach anyto the word ”servant” There o, or to help about extra work But they were decently clothed, and had homes of their own, more or less comfortable, and their quaint talk and free-and-easy ere often as much of a lift to the household as the actual assistance they rendered

I settled down upon the conclusion that ”rich” and ”poor” were book-words only, describing so to do with our every-day experience My mental definition of ”rich people,”

fro like this: People who live in three-story houses, and keep their green blinds closed, and hardly ever come out and talk with the folks in the street There were a few such houses in Beverly, and a great many in Sale walk But I did not suppose that any of the people who lived near us were very rich, like those in books