to be。 The middle…aged and young men have left comparatively faint
impressions in my memory； but how grandly the procession of the old
clergymen who filled our pulpit from time to time； and passed the day
under our roof； marches before my closed eyes！ At their head the
most venerable David Osgood； the majestic minister of Medford； with
massive front and shaggy over…shadowing eyebrows； following in the
train； mild…eyed John Foster of Brighton； with the lambent aurora of
a smile about his pleasant mouth； which not even the 〃Sabbath〃 could
subdue to the true Levitical aspect； and bulky Charles Steams of
Lincoln； author of 〃The Ladies' Philosophy of Love。 A Poem。 1797〃
（how I stared at him！ he was the first living person ever pointed out
to me as a poet）； and Thaddeus Mason Harris of Dorchester （the same
who； a poor youth； trudging along； staff in hand； being then in a
stress of sore need； found all at once that somewhat was adhering to
the end of his stick； which somewhat proved to be a gold ring of
price； bearing the words； 〃God speed thee； Friend！〃）； already in
decadence as I remember him； with head slanting forward and downward
as if looking for a place to rest in after his learned labors； and
that other Thaddeus； the old man of West Cambridge； who outwatched
the rest so long after they had gone to sleep in their own
churchyards； that it almost seemed as if he meant to sit up until the
morning of the resurrection； and bringing up the rear； attenuated but
vivacious little Jonathan Homer of Newton； who was； to look upon； a
kind of expurgated； reduced and Americanized copy of Voltaire； but
very unlike him in wickedness or wit。 The good…humored junior member
of our family always loved to make him happy by setting him
chirruping about Miles Coverdale's Version； and the Bishop's Bible；
and how he wrote to his friend Sir Isaac （Coffin） about something or
other； and how Sir Isaac wrote back that he was very much pleased
with the contents of his letter； and so on about Sir Isaac； ad
libitum；for the admiral was his old friend； and he was proud of
him。 The kindly little old gentleman was a collector of Bibles； and
made himself believe he thought he should publish a learned
Commentary some day or other； but his friends looked for it only in
the Greek Calends；say on the 31st of April； when that should come
round； if you would modernize the phrase。 I recall also one or two
exceptional and infrequent visitors with perfect distinctness：
cheerful Elijah Kellogg； a lively missionary from the region of the
Quoddy Indians； with much hopeful talk about Sock Bason and his
tribe； also poor old Poor…house…Parson Isaac Smith； his head going
like a China mandarin； as he discussed the possibilities of the
escape of that distinguished captive whom he spoke of under the name；
if I can reproduce phonetically its vibrating nasalities of 〃General
Mmbongaparty；〃a name suggestive to my young imagination of a
dangerous； loose…jointed skeleton； threatening us all like the armed
figure of Death in my little New England Primer。
I have mentioned only the names of those whose images come up
pleasantly before me； and I do not mean to say anything which any
descendant might not read smilingly。 But there were some of the
black…coated gentry whose aspect was not so agreeable to me。 It is
very curious to me to look back on my early likes and dislikes； and
see how as a child I was attracted or repelled by such and such
ministers； a good deal； as I found out long afterwards； according to
their theological beliefs。 On the whole； I think the old…fashioned
New England divine softening down into Arminianism was about as
agreeable as any of them。 And here I may remark； that a mellowing
rigorist is always a much pleasanter object to contemplate than a
tightening liberal； as a cold day warming up to 32 Fahrenheit is much
more agreeable than a warm one chilling down to the same temperature。
The least pleasing change is that kind of mental hemiplegia which now
and then attacks the rational side of a man at about the same period
of life when one side of the body is liable to be palsied； and in
fact is； very probably； the same thing as palsy； in another form。
The worst of it is that the subjects of it never seem to suspect that
they are intellectual invalids； stammerers and cripples at best； but
are all the time hitting out at their old friends with the well arm；
and calling them hard names out of their twisted mouths。
It was a real delight to have one of those good； hearty； happy；
benignant old clergymen pass the Sunday； with us； and I can remember。
some whose advent made the day feel almost like 〃Thanksgiving。〃 But
now and then would come along a clerical visitor with a sad face and
a wailing voice； which sounded exactly as if somebody must be lying
dead up stairs； who took no interest in us children； except a painful
one； as being in a bad way with our cheery looks； and did more to
unchristianize us with his woebegone ways than all his sermons were
like to accomplish in the other direction。 I remember one in
particular； who twitted me so with my blessings as a Christian child；
and whined so to me about the naked black children who； like the
〃Little Vulgar Boy；〃 〃had n't got no supper and hadn't got no ma；〃
and hadn't got no Catechism； （how I wished for the moment I was a
little black boy！） that he did more in that one day to make me a
heathen than he had ever done in a month to make a Christian out of
an infant Hottentot。 What a debt we owe to our friends of the left
centre； the Brooklyn and the Park Street and the Summer street
ministers； good； wholesome； sound…bodied； one…minded； cheerful…
spirited men； who have taken the place of those wailing poitrinaires
with the bandanna handkerchiefs round their meagre throats and a
funeral service in their forlorn physiognomies！ I might have been a
minister myself； for aught I know； if this clergyman had not looked
and talked so like an undertaker。
All this belongs to one of the side…shows； to which I promised those
who would take tickets to the main exhibition should have entrance
gratis。 If I were writing a poem you would expect； as a matter of
course； that there would be a digression now and then。
To come back to the old house and its former tenant； the Professor of
Hebrew and other Oriental languages。 Fifteen years he lived with his
family under its roof。 I never found the slightest trace of him
until a few years ago； when I cleaned and brightened with pious hands
the brass lock of 〃the study；〃 which had for many years been covered
with a thick coat of paint。 On that I found scratched； as with a
nail or fork； the following inscription：
E PE
Only that and nothing more； but the story told itself。 Master Edward
Pearson； then about as high as the lock； was disposed to immortalize
himself in monumental brass； and had got so far towards it； when a
sudden interruption； probably a smart box on the ear； cheated him of
his fame； except so far as this poor record may rescue it。 Dead long
ago。 I remember him well； a grown man； as a visitor at a later
period； and； for some reason； I recall him in the attitude of the
Colossus of Rhodes； standing full before a generous wood…fire； not
facing it； but quite the contrary； a perfect picture of the content
afforded by a blazing hearth contemplated from that point of view；
and； as the heat stole through his person and kindled his emphatic
features； seeming to me a pattern of manly beauty。 What a statue
gallery of posturing friends we all have in our memory！ The old
Professor himself sometimes visited the house after it had changed
hands。 Of course； my recollections are not to be wholly trusted； but
I always think I see his likeness in a profile face to be found among
the illustrations of Rees's Cyclopaedia。 （See Plates； Vol。 IV。；
Plate 2； Painting； Diversities of the Human Face； Fig。 4。）
And now let us return to our chief picture。 In the days of my
earliest remembrance； a row of tall Lombardy poplars mounted guard on
the western side of the old mansion。 Whether； like the cypress；
these trees suggest the idea of the funeral torch or the monumental
spire； whether their tremulous leaves make wits afraid by sympathy
with their nervous thrills； whether the faint balsamic smell of their
foliage and their closely swathed limbs have in them vague hints of
dead Pharaohs stiffened in their cerements； I will guess； but they
always seemed to me to give an of sepulchral sadness to the house
before which stood sentries。 Not so with the row of elms which you
may see leading up towards the western entrance。 I think the
patriarch of them all went over in the great gale of 1815； I know I
used to shake the youngest of them with my hands； stout as it is now；
with a trunk that would defy the bully of Crotona； or the strong man
whose liaison with the Lady Delilah proved so disastrous。
The College plain would be nothing without its elms。 As the long
hair of a woman is a glory to her； are these green tresses that bank
themselves against sky in thick clustered masses the ornament and the
pride of the classic green。 You know the 〃Washington