^ ^ > .v^- 'o. .* .* G^ 'c , - .'V 'b > -^ " -♦ ^^^ f'*' °\.^^ n -'^ \ 0^ v^"- ^ ^ .^ >y-^^ ^ vP. o ,-JV ^' (ight Entry AaSS */ XXc. No. COPY B. ^^ hese childhood recollections were written for ^^ the ''University Extention Club" of New- port, Vermont; and given at the home of Judge and Mrs. F. E. Alfred, Jan. 9th., 1897. They were repeated at a reception given by Rev. and Mrs. C. A. Livingston at the Unitarian Church of Gouverneur, N. Y., Dec. 9th., 1902. P. R. Edes. January 26th., 1903. C t I * 1 ( « « c c « •0 « ]\ 'I »*« .' * * * :^- or the last ten years 1 have been striv- ing to live in the present; to fill the /|'l^^)^ now quite full, which alone is ours; so vNfe&^^l it gave me quite a little start when your President asked me to look back so far to my early life in Old Concord, where as a girl 1 romped and played, and, when a young woman enjoyed the acquaintence and the familiar every-day sight of the many noted people there, and tell you about them, not as a matter of history, but as things look- ed to me, living my uneventful life; so I called a halt and put myself back among the dear friends and early days. As when learning to slide one runs back to get a good start, 1 must take you back a little to get an idea of how the Concord life began. My father, a merchant in Charlestown, Massachusetts, in poor health, was advised to try farming. In March of the year 1830 he with my mother and five children settled on a farm in Littleton, Massachusetts, on the sunny side of the grand old Nashoba mountain; there in June, in the early part of the remarkable decade beginning with the year, 1830 1 opened my eyes upon this good world. Of this life in Littleton 1 have only a faint rec- ollection of an old red house and of the great moun- tain, for, when 1 was five years of age father bought in Concord a farm of Revolatijnary note, on the Lexington road, a mile and a half from the village. The house was built many years before the Revolution, on a rise quite a little back from the street; with its large, square rooms on either side of the front door, with heavy, broad beams through the center of the rooms. The roof was the slanting one on the back of the house descending to within a few feet of the ground and, like all such roofs, had a ladder fasten- ed to the ridge-pole by means of hooks and reach- ing; to the ground, which ladder had a very strange fascination for me, as I was always aiming to get above the earth by climbing trees and hills; and I recall how several times 1 gave my mother quite a start, as from the back door she called me, by slid- ing down the roof and suddenly landing at her feet, book in hand. The house in Littleton, when father bought it was fully equipped for country work. There was the churn, cheese-press, candle-mould and bars, spinning wheels and reels, coffee-mill, and all the cooking utensils for brick oven and fire-place. My mother learned the way to use them all from a country neighbor, so in the old-timey Con- cord house they always looked as though they grew there. There was an old fashioned, four foot fire- place and, for a couple of weeks mother (to keep alive the old customs in the memory of the children) had the cooking stove removed; and we reveled in potatoes baked in ashes, short-cakes cooked in a bake-pan before the fire, turkeys and chickens roast- ed on a spit; and evening parties to pare apples for sauce, and to dry, were enjoyed by the young people of the village as a rare treat; as well as the dance in the great kitchen to the lively, jerky strains of old John Wesson's fiddle (the only instru- ment that furnished music for balls and parties at that time ) keeping time with one eye closed as he sang out, - **up and down the middle," **all hands round, "togather with the eccentric gyrations of fid- d'e and bow. All this makes a picture, mingled with the real mirth on every face, that I can never forget. The supper and, last but not least, the ride home as the day was breaking. And 1 imagine we work- ed no harder than we do now in playiug whist; but there was more to show for our work in the morn- ing, as I can remember a whole barrel of cider apple-sauce, the result of one evening's work. Opposite the house accross the street was an immense elm tree; the trunk was hollow being six- teen feet in circumference and large enough to hold several men. I suppose it is a fact that from that tree several of the British were shot on the retreat from the Concord fight. 1 recall as I speak of the old elm a time that 1 disgraced it and it was and is still very dear to me as it constituted the sacred precinct of the play- house of my childhood. During the Whig Campaign of 1840, when the great "Ball" which was rolled from town to town was started from Boston to Concord with bands of music, a Log Cabin on wheels drawn by oxen, a barrel of hard cider on tap also on wheels, banners of:- "HARRISON AND TYLER," TIPPICANOE AND TYLER TOO," with a profusion of flags and vehicles of all sorts made a procession a mile long as it pass- ed our tree which my brothers had placarded as a tree from which a yankee "minute-man" had shot British soldiers. All kept "open house" on the way so all was bustle and confusion. 1 was in the way teasing for a flag. I kept my own counsel and thought that tree should have a flag. My brother said,- "What do girls want of flags?" but my good mother, knowing my persistency, got out a pattern and colors in pieces and set me to work making one saying,- "there, dear, you'll make a prettier one than you can buy." so for days 1 was out of the way. The flag was made, stripes and stars and blue ground. 1 got a rough stick and nailed it on, union down. A little late in finishing,, father and brothers had gone to receive the guests. I got a box to stand on and fastened my home made flag just over the placard congratulating myself that every body would see it. Presently the procession came into sight and they did see it, and — uproar- ous cheers and hisses and shouts of laughter filled my child heart with joy, for I was sure my flag was the cause of it all, as it was greatly to the mor- tification of my father and brothers, and when I saw it torn from the stick and thrown down and stamped upon with,- "you little goose, didn't you know better than to 'put the Union down?' " and 1, not knowing then what I had done, said,- "well I put it up as high as 1 could reach! " and I thought "Love's labor" was "lost." The house had an ell in which was the back door and over this entry was my room window. I had heard the thrilling story of Revolutionary time of Paul Revere 's ride as he actually clattered over the paving stones around that door and, under that very window shouted, -" Wake up; the British are upon us!" then he galloped on and at the next house gave the same cry. I had heard the story from an old lady who lived in the house at that time — perhaps slept in my very room — and 1 used to live over that night and would imagine that if 1 should get up and look out of that window 1 should see that horse and rider. But 1 never did. "A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the mooniijjht. a bulli in the dark. And beneath, from the pebbles, in passini^r, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was ail ! And yet, through the gloom and the light, Tlie fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight. Kindled the land into flame with its heat." About a quarter of a mile from father's lived Ephraim W. Bull, a great thinker, and the origina- tor of the " Concord grape. " 1 feel almost a kin to it as he was a friend of my father and year after year he would bring samples from a dozen or more vines, all labelled as to the proportion of fertilization and mixture of cuttings ect. and many a trial grape was tucked into my mouth as 1 stood by my father's knee, with eyes and mouth undoubtedly wide open listening to the talk. The success came but not to Mr. Bull. He had been obliged to borrow money. John Moore had made the loan and before Mr. Bull had satisfied himself as to its perfection Mr. Moore had started large vineyards of a grape he called,- "Moore's Early" from some of the experiments. But I think today the *' Concord Grape " leads all the natives. The Concord was developed from the wild grape, found growing on the banks of the Concord river, and Isabella cuttings. On the road to town, over which after ten years of age I used to go to school, about half a mile from my home stands the Alcott house, after- ward bought by Hawthorne and called, " Way- side," and occupied later by the School of Philoso- phy. I was often joined in my walks by Louisa and Anna Alcott. 1 recall distinctly a birthday party ot Louisa, to wliicli I was invited when about ten years (IJ. The Ale )tts were a vtry trut];al peo- ple, who in no wi:>e pampered the body. There were eijiht of us girls, and we played out of doors until half past live; tiien Louisa was told to take lier little friends in to supper. We were conducted into the family sitting room and seated in a semi- circle. 1 was wondering where the tea table was and how it could be brouglit in when Mrs. Alcott, herself, came in, tall, quietly moving and lovely; and spread a colored napkin in each one of our laps, saying something kindly to us at tlu- time. Then she brought in a plate of sliced bread with very lit- tle if any butter on it; we each had a piece, thin and square and very dainty; and next a plate of sliced apple was pas'^ed to us. We had one slice, and when we had eaten it all we folded our nap- kins and Mrs. Alcott bade us good-bye, saying, - "You can play a half hour more, and I hope you have had a nice time; then Louisa must come in to her lessons. I, a harty girl, was glad to go home; for, to tell the truth, 1 was hungry. My mother was very particular about " our manners;" we were never allowed to mention at home what we had to eat when we were away. When 1 reached home supper was through and I ventured to ask what they had had tor supper, and if I could have some. Mother said quietly,-* 'Were you not invited to stay to tta?" 1 said,- " Yes, mother, but we did not have (much, 1 was going to say, ) when the grieved tone of my mother stop- ped me with:- **Priscilla, not a word more!" *'But, mother," 1 said, " 1 'm liungry. " '^Priscie, go right up stairs to bed; 1 will have to keep you at home if you can not learn to be more polite." A little further on the same road, and nearer town, was the home of Ralph Waldo Emerson with a grove of pines on one side, and a driveway on the other which led down to a lovely brook, over which Mr. Alcott had built for him a quaint, rustic summer house. Much of his writing was done here alone by the gurgling brook. As I went back and forth to school, many times 1 saw him walking among the pines with bowed head looking to the ground, I then thought; now I know he was looking within for the " Kingdom of Heaven " Christ said is within. Among my earliest recollections of Emerson's writing was a poem written by him in England just as he was about returning to Concord from a lecture tour. It was in a letter to a friend and came oi t in our local paper. "Good-bye, proud world, I 'm tjoini^: home. O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 1 tread on the pride of Greece and F^ome; And when I am stretched beneath the pines. Where the eveninsj star so holy shines, I laug;h at the lore and the pride of man, The sophist's school and the learned clan; For what are they all in their hipjh conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet." So, when 1 saw him reverently pacing back and forth, 1 had a feeling of awe — as if indeed he was then talking with God among the pines. The Unitarian church is the only one I rem- ember in town before 1840. All the iniluential peo- ple were in it. Dear old Dr. Ezra Ripley was the pastor and lived in the "Old Manse " which was built by Emerson's grandfather. Dr. Ripley was a large man in every sense, with a broad face that was always beaming love. Everybody loved him and every dog wagged his tail, for, he greeted each one by its name, in those days every little girl made a courtesy when she met an older person, and the boys pulled off their hats. Dr. Ripley had a way with his soft fat hand of chucking under the chin the children, to make them look up into his face. One of my brothers did not enjoy this caress but dared not show his dislike. One evening, however, he gave vent to his feelings in the follow- ing way,- the frogs were very noisy, and he asked if we knew what they were saying. We did not, whereupon he replied,- ''That's easy enough to tell. Can't you hear? 'Old Dr. Ripley's coming, chug, chug, chug.' " I really believed it then and thought they were welcoming him; and to this day when I hear the frogs, I think of dear old Dr. Ripley. 1 remember well the church with its square pews, the circular winding stairs up to the high pulpit with its wonderful, cover-like sounding board and the white-haired, saintly looking man as he raised his hands in benediction. As a small girl I was always looking for this benediction; for the people from out of the village stayed for the second service and at noon we had our lunch in thobe room- like pews. Many a peek did I try to get during the long sermon, into that lunch basket; and many a neighborhood gatheing do I remember, where all the week's happenings were well talked over. As we grew older the young men and maidens would leave the older ones to their family cares and would gather in some other pew. We were wise enough not to talk above a whisper, however; and to laugh aloud was of course not to be thought of. The old church with its square pews seems to make a frame in my memory for the portraits of the many notable men and women who used to worship there; and by no means least among them is that of the **trojan of the U. S. Senate," Hon. Geo. F. Hoar. 1 never see mention of him now that I do not think of him as a tall, handsome young man up from Harvard College to spend the Sunday at home as in his graceful, loving, courteous way, with his Mother leaning on his arm, he opened wide the pew door with a bow of deep respect waiting for her to pass. The Emerson, Thoreau, Prescot, Hoar, Keyes, Rice, and Brown, pews all frame pictured, old-time families and, when the dear old church was remodelled it was a personal loss to me — but when, two years ago, it was burned to the ground it seemed that I had lost them all. Dr. Ripley was getting old and many times Mr. Emerson was called upon to fill the pulpit. Ralph Waldo Emerson had been chosen pastor of the Second Unitarian Church of Boston in 1830. Four years he filled that pulpit; but he had the most profound conviction that the Lord's Supper was not established by Jesus for perpetual obser- vance by his followers, and that the formal conse- cration of the sacramental bread and wine as his body was sacrilegious; and he could not do it, and resigned. For a year his salary was continued in the hope he would reconsider; but he never did. In 1835 lie married and went to Concord to live, where although he would preach for Dr. Ripley, he would not administer the sacraments; but his influ- ence was at work; his quiet bearing, his serious, kindly eyes looking love on all alike, the Christ- Spirit in his earnest tones, threw a spell over his hearers, which 1 well remember. But by this time there were a goodly number of Emersonists — come outers and transcendentalists, they were termed. They attended the services as of old, but would quietly withdraw before the communion service and meet at Mr. Emerson's home or Dr. Ripley's or Judge Hoar's or with Mrs. Brooks for the spiritual communion of "Silent introspection." Of course they were denounced by those who could, or would not see as they did; but to me they were the sweetest, dearest, saintliest of people and 1 greived that they could deserve such horrid names. Had, it been my lot to have come upon the scene of life's action even ten years earlier, how 1 would have aloried in bearing; those names! Their written word and their teachincis remain with me however. And now I rejoice in knowing what there is in those names which have become so dear to me. hi my Sunday School life I was favored indeed. Judge Samuel Hoar, father of Rockwell and Geo.F and who was arrested in passing through Baltimore with his invalid daughter on suspect of having help- ed slaves — when a man of about sixty years with a beautiful face, he was the first teacher of a class of eight girls, several of whom became noted later. Then Judge Brooks taught us until his death, two years later, and John Keyes, a noted lawyer, later a judge, took the class and was still its teacher when I married and left the town. All of these men led earnest, christian lives. To Mrs. Brooks, who, at this time with many others left the church alto- gather I am indebted much. Concord was, at this time, the scene of another fight than that of '75 — a fight for principle. The weapons on one side, love: on the other, ignorance and unjust crimination. Both sides equally sure: both equally sincere. Temperance was the first reform movement in which I joined in those early days. One of Con- cord's earnest men became a drunkard, and lov- ing hands on every side were stretched forth to save him and kindly care was extended to his fam- ily. At this time to save others and educate the children, the ''Cold Water Army" was formed. Almost every child in town, rich as well as poor, joined it. Mr. Bowers, the man who had been saved, became an earnest helper and the **army " with its banners, its music and recitations, would go in hay-ricks or sleighs according to the season. I remember going both ways, to towns near by. Mr. Bowers would lecture and the children fill the rest of the bill. My part was a very affecting piece called ''The Drunkards Wife." The first time I gave it when a little girl in short dresses, the boy who preceded me had a funny piece and the hall rang with applause; I expect- ed as much, for to make people happy was the main thing I thought to do. I had been taught by Mrs. Bowers herself just how to portray the agony of waiting and listening for the unsteady steps, and where to pause for effect and the applause, I not appreciating at all the difference in sentiment. At the first pause, not a stray clap; but I saw some crying. I finished the piece and was helped down hearing only sobs throughout the hall, and I felt ashamed and grieved because I had made them all cry instead of making them happy and stoutly re- fused to repeat it; 1 did however many times. 1 mentioned my indebtedness to Mrs. Brooks. After the Judge's death she used to have the class come to her home after church on Sunday afternoon and 1 wish I could describe her so you might see her as I do. She was the daughter of rich Judge Myrick — a lady born — a beautiful picture, like a porcelain miniature. As I think of her with the high lace ruff at her neck and the laces falling over her hands and the yellow bow above the puff of her beautiful hair and the soft rustle of her black silk gown, I seem to feel as of old the quiet, uplift- ing influence. She received us in the library and there in the shaded light with the cases of books on all sides (the sight of these was then a marvel to me) and in her beautiful, loving, quiet tones she would tell us of the Omnipresent-God and the God- love surrounding us all. Here first 1 began to real- ize the very presence of God and felt in her closing benediction as if, really, she placed us in Cod's arms, making us feel safe throughout the week. Nor can I ever forget the quiet talks with the Alcott girls as we walked home. Mrs. Brooks was a leader and a great worker in the Abolition movement at this time, sacrificing her life in her love for her fellowmen. Upon this question her husband and she differed; but they agreed to differ. While she neglected not a home duty or failed in loving care of her invalid daughter afterwards Mrs. Rockwood Hoar, and of her son, George, who held the position of Judge of Probate for twenty five years in Middlesex County, she was ever ready as hostess to greet her friends. She was peculiarly conscientious and, report said, car- ried things too far. For instance, her conscience would not allow her to use cotton — a slave-labor product — and her husbsnd disliked linen; so, one pillow case was of cotton and one was of linen; one breadth of each sheet of cotton and one of linen. Neither would she use the Judge's money, except what he gave her outright, for her philanthropic work. She was a skillful cake maker and had one half of her pantry devoted to her own materials and made cake with her own hands, which she sold for parties and home use. For my own wedding her dear hands made the brides-cake. She seemed so grateful for every cent thus earned was precious to her as so much towards lifting the heavy burdens from our colored brothers — God,s dear, black children. Hawthorne says of Concord at this time about 1840, while he was living in the "Old Manse," It would be impossible to go but a little way beyond our threshold before meeting with strange moral shapes of men, that might not have been encounter- ed elsewhere within a circuit of a thousand miles. These hobgoblins of the flesh were attracted thither by the wide spread influence of a great man living the other side of the village. Young missionaries, gray-headed theorists, people that had lighted oh a new idea or thought, they had all come to Hmerson as the finder of a gem to a lapidary to ascertain its value. Uncertain, troubled, earnest wanderers be- held his intellectual light as a beacon upon a hilltop. So never was a poor little country village in- fected with such a variety of queer, strangely dress- ed, oddly behaved mortals, most of whom took up- on themselves to be important agents of the world's destiny." This is Hawthorne's idea. Coming to Concord to live ojteyear, he considered himself quite a little superior to Emerson, and seemed a little to resent the unaccountable influence of the Christ spirit living in and through the man. They were oddly dressed people, caring no more for fashion in clothes than for unnecesary food, it is true; but to see these people and to meet them as persons you know and have reason to love — to see them as they walked arm in arm with bowed heads and low earnest tones, one could not but respect them; and one could hardly speak of them as infesting any village. Hawthorn, wise as he may have been later, had not grasped the idea then, that we as individuals are important agents of this world's des- tiny. Would that we all bore it ever in mind. Speaking of himself, Hawthorne said,- ** There may have been in my life a time when 1 too might have asked of this prophet the master word that would solve for me this riddle of the universe, but now being happy, 1 felt as if there was no question to put; 1 admired him as a poet, but sought nothing from him as a philosopher." Yes, Hawthorne had just married the brilliant artist, beautiful, wealthy Sophia Peabody, and had come to the Old Manse; so with love, beauty, and no stint, his material de- sires satisfied, what need had he for spiritual phil- osophy that he knew nothing of; at least not then. But I must hurry on, though I am always loath to leave ''those horrid people," as 1 used to hear them called by those who thought them wicked, because they did not go to the same church and sit on the same kind of a board. iNever in all my life, however, did I hear from one of these "comeouters" whom 1 knew in Concord of a single dishonest or immoral or unkind act. Love was their life and to manifest it their aim. Now about Thoreau — "my David Henry," as his mother used to call him. 1 never imagined anything great could be said of him. Mr. Thoreau and his wife were devoted Christians, and intellec- tual; but when 1 first knew about them they were poor. The four children all grown up, as I a school girl remember them, were finely educated, and in sympathy with reforms :- " comeouters, " strong abolitionists, and Christian workers. John was teacher in the academy, and was one of those saint- ly minded, clean young men that are seldom seen. He was a bright spot everywhere; the life of every gathering; and when he died suddenly by poison from the barber's razor, the sun seemed to have gone out and the family's support withdrawn. ** David Henry" after leaving college was eccentric and, did not like to, and so would not, work. The opposite of John in every particular, he was a thin, insignificant, poorly dressed, careless looking man, with thin, straight, shaggy hair and pale blue, wat- ery looking eyes. After his brother's death the town demanded of him the payment of his own poll tax. He refused indignantly; ** He was a free man and would not pay a tax in a state that endors- ed slavery; and he spent one day in jail. Some friend paid it that year and set him free but lost ** David Henery's " friendship by the act. The next spring he was not to be found; he had gone to the woods near Walden Pond and had established himself in an unused charcoal burner's hut. Here in the solitude he became acquainted with himself and began to write. Emerson was a lover of these woods and many hours they spent togather. Once after a lecture by Thoreau someone remarked how much like Emerson he had spoken; his mother, overhearing, replied,- **yes, Mr. Emerson is a per- fect counterpart of my * David Henery'. " She al- most worshiped him. ** David Henry " did not care whether he was decently clothed or not. The ladies of the charita- ble society proposed to make him some cotton shirts but thought it best first to ask his mother if it would be agreeable to him. Dear Mrs. Thoreau at the next meeting said,- " I told my David Henry that you would like to niake him soiiie unbleached cotton shirts; he said, 'unbleached mother, unbleached ! yes, that strikes my ears pleasantly; 1 think they may make me some'." A practical farmer's wife with no sentiment said, in an aside, "Strike his ears pleasantly, indeed; 1 guess they will strike his back pleasantly when he gets them on." I heard no more of Thoreau until one summer at Bar Harbour some literary people were discussing *' Tow-row" and his wonderful writings. One lady said to me,- **Do you know him?" I, thinking they were speaking of some French writer (at that time 1 was unacquainted with French) said to her that I thought 1 had never heard of him. I listened however, that I might learn more. Presently I heard Concord, and Walden, and Emerson, and then I asked if they were not speaking of David Henry Thoreau late of Concord, Massachusetts. **Yes, said the lady smiling quite broadly at my pronunciation of Henry D. Tor-row, the sage of Concord. 1 said, *' What authority have you for that pronunciation? The family name is Thoreau, and 1 knew David Henry before he grew into a sage. ' ' You ask about Brook Farm. Personally I know but little about it although Concord people were prominant in it. It is thought by many that Brook Farm was a child of Emerson's thought. I presume this is because of the Concord people con- cerned in it. But the notion is erroneous. Brook Farm community adopted the views of Fourier but Emersonionism you will find not only in the Con- cord School of Philosophy but as the coloring of the entire intellectual religion of America and England. Geo. Ripley was organizer and guiding spirit of Brook Farm and Hawthorne, Alcott, Geo. W. Curtis, Chas. A. Dana, W. H. Channing, Thoreau and Margarit Fuller, beside some lesser lights known in and about Old Concord were members of the community. in March 1841 (they having hired a farm in West Koxbury, all to share alike in the labors, eat at the same table and share expenses) their life began. Hawthorne in Blithdale Romance says,- '' 1 was among the tirst arrivals in a blinding snow storm — seated by the fireside of the old farm- house with the snow melting out of my hair and beard. I felt so much more that we had transport- ed ourselves a world wide distance from the system of society that had shackled us at breakfast. But we congratulated ourselves that the blessed state of Brotherhood and Sisterhood might be dated from this hour. Zenobia (Margarit Fuller) had arrived togather with two ladies, lesser lights. They pre- pared the supper — and the drifting snow continued to fall — Stout old Silas Foster, the farmer, had been out, ploughing, till the snow became too deep and came taking off his cow hide boots to warm his feet seated himself beside us saying, - ' 1 guess, folks, you '11 be a wishing yourselves to home if the weather holds on'; But we would not allow our- selves to be depressed by a snow drift. We had left the rusty frame work of society. " Hawthorne must have lost the early happiness he described when he said he had no questions to ask. He goes on to say,- "we had broken thro' many hindrances that are powerful enough to keep most people on the weary tread mill of custom even while they feel the irksomeness as intolerable as we did. We had stepped down from the pulpit. We had flung aside the pen and shut up the ledger. It was our purpose to give up whatever we had heretofore attained for the sake of showing mankind the example of a life governed by other than the false and cruel principles which human society is based upon; and, as a basis of our institution, we proposed to offer up the eanest toil of our bodies as a prayer no less than the advancement of the race, and if all went to wrack let us rejoice that we once could think better of the world's improvability than it deserved. " Six years saw its demise. This poor world's civilization was not yet good enough to be entrusted with the nurture of so beau- tiful and sensitive a child. Let us wait patiently another million years. Today in Sleepy Hollow cemetary are resting almost ail whom 1 knew in those days gone bye. Visitors from all parts of the world like to find the gfaves of Emerson, Thoreau, Alcott, Hawthorne, Hosmer and Ripley. Sleepy Hollow is one of the most perfect spec- imens of nature's handiwork. . The perfect hollow surrounded on all sides by beautiful sloping banks surmounted with unusually perfect trees, and the slumbrous requiems they are always harmoniously singing gives the place its name. On the top of the .** Mount of Vision " is the grave of Emerson. A large, roughly shaped boulder of the ''Rose Agate" I think it is called, stands as his monument giving out deep rosy hues in the sunlight interspersed with diamond-like crystals most blindin;^ in tlv. ir beauty. These crystals were always admired by Emerson and Dr. Emerson, his son, wrote me that he tried to get one set in a monument but failed on account of its brittleness. Tliey then decided to bring from South Acworth, N. H. the Boulder weighing several tons. There, like- a monument to the brilliancy of the man and symbolic of the rare gems of thought which he has given to the world, it stands, forever giving of its bright rays to every one who looks upon it. The quiet lot of the Alcott's is almost opposite and I am told that loving children hands all summer long keep fresh flowers on the grave of Louise. The Thoreau lot is just deside as well as that of Hawthorne and Ripley and my beloved pastor, G. W. Hosmer and my own Father and Mother. So, tenderest memories cluster around Sleepy Hollow and Old Concord has charms untold for me. This is the V ,*i:c- -^ 7. * • O ;- .- ^V ^ ^-^ ,9-/ ,^ -^^ 1 ^ U^ Q-i :> ^-^ ^ "v '> .^^ -V .0^ o^ ' 4 o. V -* s • • . iS> N G ^ V^ .0 .^• ^ .*Vrt^^- ■^^ >^ ;> A ^ . s • • -. O " 5 ^ ' o -/ ,>j ,-. ^ ^ • is, iv - ^^^ J <^/^ .C,'^ .^^ V^ '\ •f v^ .^' ,> ^^x. ^ .^^ V ^ '^ " " ? • • .' o < ^^-;^ f^ ,0 «''_\°' ^> %.^^^ -5^ 0^ , o o -^^0^ V .^ T- O >n. .s^" /J(#^4^ ' ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ " " - ^ 0' <". * V * * » ,; O ^ a ^ <> ^^ ■^ A ,-?v' o " c ^ <9 40 --0 P l^ .^^ O \.. -^ A^ ^. DEC 7 7 .^^ 3^''!^ N. MANCHESTER INDIANA LIBRARY OF CONGRESS