thou hadst no stomach to fill。 We poor wives must swink for our
masters； while they sit in their arm…chairs growing as great in the
girth through laziness as that ill…mannered fat man William hath writ
of in his books of players' stuff。 One had as well meddle with a
porkpen； which hath thorns all over him； as try to deal with William
when his eyes be rolling in that mad way。〃
Williamwriting once moreafter an exclamation in strong English of
the older pattern；
〃Whether 't is noblernoblernobler
To do what？ O these women！ these women！ to have puddings or
flapjacks！ Oh！
Whether 't is noblerin the mindto suffer
The slingsand arrowsof
Oh！ Oh！ these women！ I will e'en step over to the parson's and have a
cup of sack with His Reverence for methinks Master Hamlet hath forgot
that which was just now on his lips to speak。〃
So I shall have to put off making my friends acquainted with the
other boarders； some of whom seem to me worth studying and
describing。 I have something else of a graver character for my
readers。 I am talking； you know； as a poet； I do not say I deserve
the name； but I have taken it； and if you consider me at all it must
be in that aspect。 You will； therefore； be willing to run your eyes
over a few pages read； of course by request； to a select party of the
boarders。
THE GAMBREL…ROOFED HOUSE AND ITS OUTLOOK。
A PANORAMA； WITH SIDE…SHOWS。
My birthplace； the home of my childhood and earlier and later
boyhood； has within a few months passed out of the ownership of my
family into the hands of that venerable Alma Mater who seems to have
renewed her youth； and has certainly repainted her dormitories。 In
truth； when I last revisited that familiar scene and looked upon the
flammantia mania of the old halls； 〃Massachusetts〃 with the dummy
clock…dial； 〃Harvard〃 with the garrulous belfry； little 〃Holden〃 with
the sculptured unpunishable cherub over its portal； and the rest of
my early brick…and…mortar acquaintances； I could not help saying to
myself that I had lived to see the peaceable establishment of the Red
Republic of Letters。
Many of the things I shall put down I have no doubt told before in a
fragmentary way； how many I cannot be quite sure； as I do not very
often read my own prose works。 But when a man dies a great deal is
said of him which has often been said in other forms； and now this
dear old house is dead to me in one sense； and I want to gather up my
recollections and wind a string of narrative round them； tying them
up like a nosegay for the last tribute： the same blossoms in it I
have often laid on its threshold while it was still living for me。
We Americans are all cuckoos；we make our homes in the nests of
other birds。 I have read somewhere that the lineal descendants of
the man who carted off the body of William Rufus； with Walter
Tyrrel's arrow sticking in it； have driven a cart （not absolutely the
same one； I suppose） in the New Forest； from that day to this。 I
don't quite understand Mr。 Ruskin's saying （if he said it） that he
couldn't get along in a country where there were no castles； but I do
think we lose a great deal in living where there are so few permanent
homes。 You will see how much I parted with which was not reckoned in
the price paid for the old homestead。
I shall say many things which an uncharitable reader might find fault
with as personal。 I should not dare to call myself a poet if I did
not； for if there is anything that gives one a title to that name； it
is that his inner nature is naked and is not ashamed。 But there are
many such things I shall put in words； not because they are personal；
but because they are human； and are born of just such experiences as
those who hear or read what I say are like to have had in greater or
less measure。 I find myself so much like other people that I often
wonder at the coincidence。 It was only the other day that I sent out
a copy of verses about my great…grandmother's picture； and I was
surprised to find how many other people had portraits of their great…
grandmothers or other progenitors； about which they felt as I did
about mine； and for whom I had spoken； thinking I was speaking for
myself only。 And so I am not afraid to talk very freely with you； my
precious reader or listener。 You too； Beloved； were born somewhere
and remember your birthplace or your early home； for you some house
is haunted by recollections； to some roof you have bid farewell。
Your hand is upon mine； then； as I guide my pen。 Your heart frames
the responses to the litany of my remembrance。 For myself it is a
tribute of affection I am rendering； and I should put it on record
for my own satisfaction； were there none to read or to listen。
I hope you will not say that I have built a pillared portico of
introduction to a humble structure of narrative。 For when you look
at the old gambrel…roofed house； you will see an unpretending
mansion； such as very possibly you were born in yourself； or at any
rate such a place of residence as your minister or some of your well…
to…do country cousins find good enough； but not at all too grand for
them。 We have stately old Colonial palaces in our ancient village；
now a city； and a thriving one；square…fronted edifices that stand
back from the vulgar highway； with folded arms； as it were； social
fortresses of the time when the twilight lustre of the throne reached
as far as our half…cleared settlement； with a glacis before them in
the shape of a long broad gravel…walk； so that in King George's time
they looked as formidably to any but the silk…stocking gentry as
Gibraltar or Ehrenbreitstein to a visitor without the password。 We
forget all this in the kindly welcome they give us to…day； for some
of them are still standing and doubly famous； as we all know。 But
the gambrel…roofed house； though stately enough for college
dignitaries and scholarly clergymen； was not one of those old Tory；
Episcopal…church…goer's strongholds。 One of its doors opens directly
upon the green； always called the Common； the other； facing the
south； a few steps from it； over a paved foot…walk； on the other side
of which is the miniature front yard； bordered with lilacs and
syringas。 The honest mansion makes no pretensions。 Accessible；
companionable； holding its hand out to all； comfortable； respectable；
and even in its way dignified； but not imposing； not a house for his
Majesty's Counsellor； or the Right Reverend successor of Him who had
not where to lay his head； for something like a hundred and fifty
years it has stood in its lot； and seen the generations of men come
and go like the leaves of the forest。 I passed some pleasant hours；
a few years since； in the Registry of Deeds and the Town Records；
looking up the history of the old house。 How those dear friends of
mine； the antiquarians； for whose grave councils I compose my
features on the too rare Thursdays when I am at liberty to meet them；
in whose human herbarium the leaves and blossoms of past generations
are so carefully spread out and pressed and laid away； would listen
to an expansion of the following brief details into an Historical
Memoir！
The estate was the third lot of the eighth 〃Squadron〃 （whatever that
might be）； and in the year 1707 was allotted in the distribution of
undivided lands to 〃Mr。 ffox；〃 the Reverend Jabez Fox of Woburn； it
may be supposed； as it passed from his heirs to the first Jonathan
Hastings； from him to his son； the long remembered College Steward；
from him in the year 1792 to the Reverend Eliphalet Pearson；
Professor of Hebrew and other Oriental languages in Harvard College；
whose large personality swam into my ken when I was looking forward
to my teens； from him the progenitors of my unborn self。
I wonder if there are any such beings nowadays as the great
Eliphalet； with his large features and conversational basso profundo；
seemed to me。 His very name had something elephantine about it； and
it seemed to me that the house shook from cellar to garret at his
footfall。 Some have pretended that he had Olympian aspirations； and
wanted to sit in the seat of Jove and bear the academic thunderbolt
and the aegis inscribed Christo et Ecclesiae。 It is a common
weakness enough to wish to find one's self in an empty saddle； Cotton
Mather was miserable all his days； I am afraid； after that entry in
his Diary： 〃This Day Dr。 Sewall was chosen President； for his Piety。〃
There is no doubt that the men of the older generation look bigger
and more formidable to the boys whose eyes are turned up at their
venerable countenances than the race which succeeds them； to the same
boys grown older。 Everything is twice as large； measured on a three…
year…olds three…foot scale as on a thirty…year…olds six…foot scale；
but age magnifies and aggravates persons out of due proportion。 Old
people are a kind of monsters to little folks； mild manifestations of
the terrible； it may be； but still； with their white locks and ridged
and grooved features； which those horrid little eyes exhaust of their
details； like so many microscopes not exactly what human beings ought
to be。 The middle…aged and youn