40 MY GARDEN ITS LOCATION. 



accounts for my bush-beans so often aspiring to 

 be climbers. A high and elevating influence 

 still lingers here. 



But, after a sultry July day, when the moon- 

 light falls cool and clear on mountain and river, 

 that is the witching time for a stroll in my gar- 

 den. Then by the weird power of imagination 

 (eating Black-caps in the meantime with the 

 dew on them to keep up the connection with 

 the present) you can conjure up the past. 

 There, on the white ramparts of Fort Putnam, 

 against the northern sky, you can see a shadowy 

 Continental with his matchlock pacing up and 

 down in ghostly vigilance ; or the gleaming 

 canvas of the passing vessels on the river can 

 become to you the phantom sails of the British 

 fleet, and the dip of some distant oar that of an 

 emissary of the traitorous Arnold. 



If your fancy is of a lighter cast, the fays and 

 sprites of Rodman Drake will light down from 



