MY REAL ESTATE. H 



be past the need of preaching, most of us, 

 before that day arrives, and not unlikely 

 shall have been ourselves preached about 

 in enforcement of the same trite theme. 



Thoughts of this kind came to me the 

 other afternoon, as I stood in the path 

 (what is known as the town path cuts the 

 lot in two) and looked about. So much 

 was going on in this bit of earth, itself the 

 very centre of the universe to multitudes of 

 living things. The city out of which I had 

 come was not more densely populous. Here 

 at my elbow stood a group of sassafras 

 saplings, remnants of a race that has held 

 the ground for nobody knows how long. 

 One of my earliest recollections of the place 

 is of coming hither to dig for fragrant roots. 

 At that time it had never dawned upon me 

 that the owner of the land would some day 

 die, and leave it to me, his heir. How hard 

 and rocky the ground was ! And how hard 

 we worked for a very little bark ! Yet few 

 of my pleasures have lasted better. The 

 spicy taste is in my mouth still. Even in 

 those days I remarked the glossy green 

 twigs of this elegant species, as well as the 

 unique and beautiful variety of its leaves, 



