MY EARLY DAYS.
My father's house was indeed a pleasant home; and father was the
supreme guide of his own household. He was gentle, but he could he
firm and resolute when the case demanded. Mother was the sunshine of
our little garden of love; her talents and energy gave her influence;
and united to a man like father, she was all that is loveable in the
character of woman.
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But th
dear old home, where I grew from infancy to boyhood, and from
boyhood to youth, I shall never forget. It was a large house on the
slope of a hill, just high enough to overlook several miles of our
level country, and smooth enough with its soft grassy carpet for us to
roll down from the summit to the foot of the hill. At the back of the
house was another hill, where we used to roll under the shade of the
old elm, and where Miles and I would sit whole afternoons and fly the
kite, each taking turns in bolding the string. This was a happy place
for us, and especially in the spring time, when the happy looking
cows grazed along the pathway which winds around the elm to the stream
where Kate and I used to sail my little boat. All summer long this
place was vocal with the songs of birds, which built their nests in
safety among the tall trees of the grove in the rear of the farm. We
had also the music of the running brook, and the pleasant hum of my
father's cotton mill, which brought us in our daily bread. Haying time
was always a happy season for us boys. Father's two horses, "_Dick_"
and "_Bonny_" would take off the farm as large a load of hay as any in
the village.
Years past on, and we were a happy band of brothers and sisters. After
Kate, came the twins, Margaret and Herbert, and last of all came the
youngest darling, blue eyed Dora. We had a happy childhood. Our
station in the world was high enough to enable us to have all the
harmless pleasures and studies that were useful and actually necessary
to boys and girls of our station. Father always thought that it was
better in early youth not to force the boys to too hard study, and
mother loved best to see Kate and Margaret using the fingers in
fabricating garments, than in playing the harp. We were free, happy,
roving children on father's farm, unchained by the forms of
fashionable life. We had no costly dresses to spoil, and were
permitted to play in the green fields without a servant's eye, and to
bathe in the clear shallow stream without fear of drowning. As I have
said before, these were happy days; and when I think of them gone, I
often express my regret that we did not improve them more for the
cultivation of the mind and the affections. In the next story you will
see that there were some passing clouds in our early summer days.