46 MY FARM. 



ing for the farm, I had also bargained for the imple- 

 ments of which there might be immediate need. 



Directly upon the roadway, before the house, 

 rose a high wall, supporting the little terrace that 

 formed the front yard ; the terrace was a wilderness 

 of roses, lilacs, and undipped box. The entrance 

 way was by a flight of stone steps which led through 

 the middle of the terrace, and of the wall ; while 

 over the steps hung the remnants of an ancient arch- 

 way, which had once supported a gilded lantern ; 

 and I was told with an air of due reverence, that this 

 gilded spangle of the town life, was a memento of 

 the hospitalities of a certain warm-blooded West 

 Indian, who in gone by years had lighted up the 

 country home with cheery festivities. I would have 

 cherished the lantern if it had not long before dis- 

 appeared ; and the steps that may have once thronged 

 under it, must be all of them heavy with years now, 

 if they have not rested from their weary beat alto- 

 gether. Both wall and terrace are now gone, and a 

 gentle swell of green turf is in their place, skirted 

 by a hedge and low rustic paling, and crowned by a 

 gaunt pine tree, and a bowering elm. 



The same hospitable occupant, to whom I have 

 referred, had made additions to the home itself, so as 

 to divest it of the usual, stereotyped farm-house look, 

 by a certain quaintness of outline. This he had done 



