AN OLD ROAD. 67 



Their anticipations of Christmas must have 

 been strangely different from those of us 

 toy-loving, candy-eating children. But who 

 thinks of sympathizing with a tree ? 



As for the wayside flowers, they are, as 

 becomes the place, of the very commonest 

 and most old - fashioned sorts, more wel- 

 come to my eye than the choicest of 

 rarities: golden -rods and asters in great 

 variety and profusion, hardback and mead- 

 ow-sweet, St. John's wort and loosestrife, 

 violets and anemones, self-heal and cranes- 

 bill, and especially the lovely but little- 

 known purple gerardia. These, with their 

 natural companions and allies, make to me 

 a garden of delights, whereunto my feet, as 

 far as they find opportunity, do continually 

 resort. What flowers ought a New Eng- 

 lander to love, if not such as are charac- 

 teristic of New England ? 



And yet, proudly and affectionately as I 

 talk of it, Back Street is not what it once 

 was. I have already mentioned the straight- 

 ening, as also the widening, both of them 

 sorry improvements. Furthermore, there 

 was formerly a huge (as I remember it) 

 and beautifully proportioned hemlock-tree, 



