He meant the cherry stand that we stood by, with curly maple draws.
Sez he, “Oh, them beautiful, holy memories! And then,” sez he, with a look of deep content, “to think of the cookies you’ve garnished with it durin’ the beautiful years of our union.” Sez he, “Nothin’ like the scent of caraway to me.”
I wuz deeply moved by the sweet and tender memories he invoked.
Oh, summer hours! oh, old front garden, lit by the settin’ sun a-shinin’ through the maples! I see it agin, I almost feel the shadders of the tall lilock bushes; I see the June roses a-shinin’ like rosy stars above the deep lush grass, and the delicate white tracery of the caraway a-hoverin’ over ’em like a snowy mist.
Oh, summer garden! oh, summer hours of life! oh, beauty and bloom, divine sadness and rapter, and rich promise of the glowin’ futer a-layin’ fur off in the distance, like the sun in the glowin’ west.
My Josiah had brung ’em all back to me. What wuz cologne or bergamot in them rapt hours?
Men are deep.
The cathedral is a sight to see. It is called one of the most beautiful cathedrals in Europe, and they don’t lie about it when they say it is. It wuz begun eight or nine hundred years ago, and two hundred men wuz to work at it. I wonder if they are slack. Anyway, I don’t have any idee when they lay out to finish it. I guess they are to work by the day. I know jest how they acted when they wuz to work at Josiah’s horse-barn. I believe it is better to let barns, or cathedrals, or anything else out by the job.
Wall, if I should describe jest that one enormous old meetin’-house, and what we see in it and about it, it would take a book bigger than Foxe’s “Book of Martyrs.”
I won’t try, but it wuz a sight, a sight to see—carvin’s, statutes, picters, towers, canopies, arches, altars, relicks, etc., etc., etc.