Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1874-04-17
5Hiscellanu.
Boyhood Memories.
BY HENRY WARD BEECHER.


The old Litcbfield mouse has been sold,
moved of, and revamped. II palace
were built where it Stood it would seem
homely to these eyes of mine. 1t was
not the material house that | saw in after
years, but house shining out of house
hold life that exhaled from it ana form
ed an atmosphere around it, impereepti-
BILE to other eyes, but clear and full of
the tenderest beauty to mine. That soul
vapor envolving thousand airy shapes
of sorrow, tenderness, reverence, love,
fear, gIadness, will never gather about
any other structure.
There are subtle losses to a sensitive
soul that cannot be made up, and that
are out of all proportion to the external
and material value. " She has pawn ed
the last ring for bread for her children"
Only God knows how much that may
mean. One by one they went-cherish-
ed things of value, each full of ones in
nermost life, and when all are gone, the
soul, stript of its souvenirs, is impover-
ished in its most gracious memories. The
burning of the Alexandrian Library was
a piteous loss in its way; but more pangs
have been felt thousand fold at the
sale of ring, brooch, cradle,a book,
than any one ever felt for the ancient IL
brary.
There was something about the old
house at Litehfeld SO sensitively sacred,
that / never could bear to look back up
on it in after years, when it had been re-
arranged, divided and fixed up gener-
ally. | left it in 1926, bouncing boy
to whom the whole world was an orb of
JOY and health, and never put foot across
the threshold again. At twilight only,
when the outlines alone were revealed,
and the changes hidden, have looked
at it from distance.
A very boys house planned without
a plan, and full of entries" closets and
unexpected rooms. There was great
kitchen. What times we have had there
What blind mans bluff when the work
was done up What labors on bitter
cold mornings everything in the house
frozen-to kindle fire Of green wood
What apple peelings, pumpkin-cuttings,
storytelling circles around the fire.
What dismal washing days and what
days of smoke and vexation when new
tangled stoves came in, instead of the
roaring freplacei There was the old
settee, called settle, its seat filled with
every conceivable tool, toy, or gimcrack.
The long clock that stood solemnly tick
ing, and would have seemed like dea-
con, if foolish-looking, half moon face
that never rose or set, had not been
painted on its face. Out of the kitchen
opened the csndle-closet, and the sink
room, which was huge dark well-room
that never had ray of sunlight it, Its
only window looking toward the north
as if searching for cold. The doors Of
the kitchen we're curiosities, and no two
alike-that on the south large and easy
that on the north sagged on its hinges
and shut with harsh noise; the dining
room door shut with cackle, and wa
always unlatching itself; the door mex
to it, seldom used, seemed stately ant
aristocratic the cellar door was gloom,
and mysterious.
Alb, yes; down those cellar stairs w
have gone thousand times, to draw
cider, to pick over apples, to sort pots
toes and turnips, to boil potatoes and tur
J nips for the pigs, in new-fangled kettl
set Also down those stairs We hav
gone hundred times, to play hide-and