The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 110, December, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 110, December, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
_Monday, September 17._--Set out on a journey to Temple, N.H., with E.F.
M----, to visit his father. Started by way of Boston, in the half past
ten train, and took the Lowell and Nashua Railroad at twelve, as far as
Danforth's Corner, about fifty miles, and thence in stage-coach to
Milford, four miles farther, and in a light wagon to Temple, perhaps
twelve miles farther. During the latter drive, the road gradually
ascended, with tracts of forest land alongside, and latterly a brook,
which we followed for several miles, and finally found it flowing
through General M----'s farm. The house is an old country dwelling, in
good condition, standing beside the road, in a valley surrounded by a
wide amphitheatre of high hills. There is a good deal of copse and
forest on the estate, high hills of pasture land, old, cultivated
fields, and all such pleasant matters. The General sat in an easy-chair
in the common room of the family, looking better than when in Salem,
with an air of quiet, vegetative enjoyment about him, scarcely alive to
outward objects. He did his best to express a hospitable pleasure at
seeing me; but did not succeed, so that I could distinguish his words.
He loves to sit amidst the bustle of his family, and is dimly amused by
what is going forward; is pleased, also, to look out of the open window
and see the poultry--a guinea-hen, turkeys, a peacock, a tame deer,
etc.--which feed there. His mind sometimes wanders, and he hardly knows
where he is; will not be convinced that he is anywhere but at Salem,
until they drag his chair to a window from which he can see a great
elm-tree of which he is very fond, standing in front of the house. Then
he acknowledges that he must be at the farm, because, he says, they
never could have transplanted that tree. He is pleased with flowers,
which they bring him,--a kind-hearted old man. The other day a live
partridge was sent him, and he ordered it to be let go, because he would
not suffer a life to be taken to supply him with a single meal. This
tenderness has always been characteristic of the old soldier. His
birthplace was within a few miles of this spot,--the son and descendant
of husbandmen,--and character and fortune together have made him a man
of history.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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