November — The Old Building. 7 



too, recalls them to my memory, for they came here to 

 hunt the boar in the pride of their early manhood. And 

 why should we endeavor to forget ? Do we not wrong 

 the dead when we dismiss their memory as too disturb- 

 ing and importunate ? Let me rather welcome these 

 recollections, and be thankful for that clearness of the 

 faculties which enables me still to see their faces and 

 hear their voices as I heard and saw them when the 

 only war they knew was that against the wild boar and 

 the wolf. I will build a monument to their memory 

 near the Val Sainte Veronique. On the crest of the 

 hill before the house two columns of spotless marble 

 shall rise high above the summits of the trees, and as 

 the marble mellows to the sunsets of the years that are 

 to come, so may their sacrifice appear to me more in 

 harmony with the great purposes of the world ! 



III. 



The Old Building— My Herbarium — My Books — A Year of Retire- 

 ment — Reading — Botany — Etching — Animal Life. 



THE day after our arrival in our new home it rained 

 incessantly, and not a ray of sunshine came to 

 brighten the dreary November landscape. We had 

 arrived at a time of the year that offered no pros- 

 pect of cheering natural appearances. The splendor of 

 autumn had utterly faded away; the clear brightness 

 of the frosty winter had not yet arrived to brace us 



