OLD HOMESTEAD 



brother Gilbert's wife in the spring of 1845, and his departure 

 for the West, followed by the unexpected news of his own death 

 in the early fall of the same year, I also remember. 



The sorrowful ending of the useful life of Aunt Clarissa Wise 

 affected me deeply, as it did all who knew her. The early death 

 of Uncle Alexander Waugh, and the untimely death of brother- 

 in-law Henry E. Allen, who had been my teacher for one term 

 and who was a great favorite with all, were among the things 

 which fastened themselves deeply in my mind. 



I have referred to a few of the leading affairs which occupied 

 my time and attention as a boy; but in going over and reviewing 

 these, hundreds of other incidents which were to me in their 

 time of sufficient interest to make a lasting impression, come 

 back with vivid clearness, but time and space will not allow any 

 lengthy mention thereof. 



The memories of the old house itself bring with them recol- 

 lections of things in its particular vicinity, like the woodyard, 

 with its great pile of firewood in all stages of preparation, 

 always a place where work was needed; the front yard, with its 

 gravel walk, bordered by long flower-beds of violets, marigolds, 

 pinks, peonies, lilies and hollyhocks, and surrounded by rose, 

 lilac and flowering bushes of all kinds; the adjacent apple or- 

 chard, in which every tree was a familiar friend and had its own 

 history and meaning; the garden, with its perennial beds of 

 asparagus, tansy and sage, with wormwood and wild celery 

 bushes in the fence-corners, and long beds of all kinds of kitchen 

 vegetables, always calling for the man or boy with the hoe; the 

 famous old cherry tree that hung over the great rock; the long 

 corn-crib filled with yellow ears, once used as a great coop 

 during the spring of the famous pigeon flight; the rocky, side- 



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