118 YEARS OF DISCIPLINE. [1843,
so many miles of memory. This life we live is a strange dream, and I don t believe at all any account men give of it. Methinks I should be content to sit at the back-door in Con cord, under the poplar-tree, henceforth forever. Not that I am homesick at all, for places are strangely indifferent to me, but Concord is still a cynosure to my. eyes, and I find it hard to attach it, even in imagination, to the rest of the globe, and tell where the seam is.
I fancy that this Sunday evening you are poring over some select book, almost transcen dental perchance, or else " Burgh s Dignity," or Massillon, or the "Christian Examiner." Father has just taken one more look at the gar den, and is now absorbed in Chaptelle, or read ing the newspaper quite abstractedly, only look ing up occasionally over his spectacles to see how the rest are engaged, and not to miss any newer news that may not be in the paper. Helen has slipped in for the fourth time to learn the very latest item. Sophia, I suppose, is at Ban- gor ; but Aunt Louisa, without doubt, is just flitting away to some good meeting, to save the credit of you all.
It is still a cardinal virtue with me to keep awake. I find it impossible to write or read except at rare intervals, but am, generally speak ing, tougher than formerly. I could make a
