I
could endure the cold and heat without trouble, and have often braved
the winter wind, taking no pains to keep it from being blown on my bare
chest, and without discomfort.
The new greenhouse was built in the autumn, just in time to save the
plants from frost. It was situated back of the cottage and garden,
almost parallel with our boundary wall, and about fifteen feet from it.
There was a little sleeping room connected with it, where I lodged
summer and winter. Above me in the gable, a variety of beautiful doves,
consisting of Pouters, Tumblers, Ruffs, Carriers and Fantails, was
installed. They were very tame, and were much admired by our family and
visitors. They came at my call, alighted on my hands, head and
shoulders, and picked corn from out my hands and from between my lips.
We planted grape vines that bore promises, but were too young for
fruit, and we made bouquets and sold them to Boston and West Roxbury
parties.
Peter N. Klienstrup, the gardener, was under the spell of the powerful
weed, tobacco, and he tried time and again to break from the habit of
using it, but as often returned to its enchantment and its witchery.
"Dis is my last piece," I have heard him say many times, showing me the
fragment of a "hand," and when that was gone and for some two or three
weeks afterwards everything soured him.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178