Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1866-12-05
From the Boston Trav Her
A Green Mountain Boys visit to the
Scenes of his Childhood

GIeen M fountain Boys visit to the
scenes of his Childhood.
BosToN, Oct. 3Ist.
To the Editor of the Traveller
l have just returned to this, the metropolis
of New Eng land. after what has been Co me
most interesting as well as deeply affecting
visit 10 locality which, though forty miles
distant from my bov hood home, was endear-
ed to me by frequent journeyings thither in
the cool October davs-the residence of nv
uncle and aunt in Brook6sld, VT. A brief
description of my feelings on the occasion,
and the "reminiscences awakened in my mind :,
may be acceptable to some of the readers of
your paper. Twenty-seven years is long
time, and yet it was all of that up to the last
week. since l turned my back upon that dear
old town, where my angel mother (nOw in
heaven) spent her happy childhood.
was lad of fifteen years then, but as |
journeyed into Brook6eld a week or two ago
every object seemed as familiar as if had left
it but yesterday. There were the noble old
hills. the dense forest Depths the f.llow fslds.
the maple groves, the roads, The brooks. and
many of the self-same houses, and | was
breathing again the pure air of the old Green
Mountain State. Only myself seemed chang
ed. When l reached the spot where had
spent so many happy hours. | sought in vain
for the ancient farm house whose roof had
sheltered me 10 my earlier days. But it had
passed away, and a neat new one had taken
It's place, which did nor look half so inviting
to me, and which seemed almost an usurper.
The youthful and smiling countenances of
my former mates were no longer to be seen !;
they, like myself. had sought other homes.
The pale sweet face of my aunt, my mother 8
dearest friend, had been laid away in Wonder
churchyard, end another filed her place.
Z ind aah oh Ehn Tvln
of the sunlight among the gnarled trees, the
orchard on the bill side, the quiet meadow,
the old building which contained the cider
mill and the ittle brook whose crystal waters
passed murmuring along near the house, re-
mainei the same, and reminded NE of my an.
nual pngrimages thither in former times. |
used 10 th nix that N J good uncle often imag-
ined III his heart that my Election was strong
er for the orchard and the cider nall tnan for
him, especially when be caught me throwing
apples at my little mates, or wasting the cid
eT, which OF course was q mistake aud would
be not to be repeated un il he was out
of sight. Methinks | can hear him even now
exclaiming-'' George, you young rogue, stop
wasting those apples
And now, Mr.. Editor, allow me to say that
l shall never forget this visit 10 the place
| around which many sweet Ieco!ections
cluster. The ricn and undulsting forests,
the bold and towering eminences, the sylvan
| glens, the meandering streams. are all very
dear to me, and DO you wonder that, as stand
ing there on that beautiful October Sabbath
day, on spot endeared to me- by THOUSAND !
sweet aud tender memorles,-a spot where q
mothers foot had lett It's imprint,-that
mused over tie past, as fond memory, with
her thousand whispers, brought freshly ty
mind departed days. | behsld. in thoue ht,
my ah-ctiouate parens; the loving, blue
eyed, hAxen- haired, merry sister,-long since
in heaven and felt sad to think that bat
two remained out of eight brothers aud sis
ters- My feelings were In harmony with the
| charging aspect of Nature. The happy.
treasured past, and the bright spring-time of
of youth and health and besuty,-how sweet,
how gentle. how suggestive, when our tiny
| feet keep equal time TO the raindrop and the
sunbeam, skipping quickly aud lightly over
the shadowy thresh I'D of doubt and grief.
Ii is true that we should live 10 the present
and enjoy life with all earnestness, feeling
that there 10 time like the present for
work for eHj,yment, and for all that can be
accomplished to-day.
Yet the sweet memory OF happy child
hood is with us IN all our quiet dreams, both
then and now, yesterday and today. 1t is
| like soft music from a distant shore, low,
sweet and familiar to the sense-like notes
| from a minor key. There a time when
our baby-fee first wandered away among the
bright feel is and go: astray and we're pierced
| BY thorns or stur z by malicious bee whose
| privacy had been intruded upon, and whose
spirit in cons quence was sorely ruffied and
when We got back home at last to be comfort
ed by kiss and kind word. There was
| too a later time when we wandered further
on, making new discoveries all the way, over
| bills and through valleys, till perhaps those
| INTO thn OF nlIS. hi
| bringing fear and sorrow to the anxious
watchers at home. but this there was not
day or an hour which has not had its in tlu-
! ence over our after life. There have been
many whose home, If we may call it so, from
| the cradle to the grave, has been full of slu
| and shame and misery, or it their feet took
hold on maturity, they FASTENED onward,
madly seek ing they hardly knew what.
! No gentle fragrance of other, happier DAYS
is upon them familiar melody of their own
sweet home falls upon the ear. and those early
pra yers are never known. The worn spirit
Is harassed on through life, tired and weary
and flies into the grave. it may be forgotten,
or unknown. Happy the man who has had a
happy bone, q sunny childhood, and over
! whom those early prayers childish and sincere
have had their healthful in nfuence, an IT hu-
ence almost like passport into heaven. That
long ago! l close my eyes and my mind Ie-
verts wishfuliy back to where all seems un
clouded sunshine. Loved voices call from the
spirit land soft hands clasp my own; sweet
| lips greet me with affections kisses, and
hand in hand we roam together through green
fields, and over hills and valleys, gathering
the first flowers of the season for our mothers.
chasing butterflies, scampering one after the
other in widest, merriest glee, and with
shouts of silvery laughter. But the spell is
| broken the familiar sounds die away like
the evening zephyrs they leave a sweet sad
T ess like that awakened by the autumn winds
when they blow over the graves of the fallen
and withered "Reminiscences of the summer.
Again, in company with two dear relatives
l stood within that sacred enclosure where
sleep many loved ones, and pausing by the
side of two dearly priced little mounds of
earth. the graves of brother and sister,
felt sorry that business would SO soon call me
away from the hallowed spot. My regret
seemed to be shared by the two amiable young
ladies who had come with me to bow at the
shrine of their loving mothers grave. They
could weep with me, and l could weep with
them, for knew the exceedingly beautiful
traits of character which had characterized
that gentle being, and we'll did she deserve
the tribute of those tears of love which were
there shed upon her precious turf. Nowhere
have realized 80 fully thu vanity of worldly
pursuits, or the shortuess and uncertainty of
human life, as in thie sacred place. The
grassy mounds, the cleaning tombstones, the
deep, solemn stiffness, broken only by the
soft signing of the autumn winds. appealed
to my soul with an earnestness that no words
could have expressed. On that October after
noon, ono of the saddest of the year,-one of
vailipg winds, of naked woode, of meadows