On the north side of the house was a small orchard. In the rear were the barn, sheds, crib, and other out-buildings.
The grounds in the immediate neighborhood were level or slightly undulated. On the north and east were beautiful meadows. On the south and west were excellent tillage and pasture lands. The season that I spent there was one of nature's bountifulness. The tall herd's-grass, the rustling corn, and the whitened grain waved in the summer's breeze, and bespoke the plenty that followed the toil and industry of the husbandman. The herds were feeding in the fields. The innocent lambs, free from care, were leaping and frisking about—some in the sun and some in the shade—while their more sober dames were either grazing, or quietly masticating the food they had previously collected.
Half encircling these premises was a fine stream of water, varying from three to seven yards in width. It was supplied with dace, trout, roach, and perch. Its plaintive, monotonous murmur sometimes impressed the mind with sadness. This was soon dispelled, however, by the twittering, the glee, and the sweet notes of the birds, that hopped from spray to spray, or quietly perched themselves on the overhanging branches.
Some little distance to the northwest of Mr. Duran's house was a forest of thrifty growth, covered with a varied and beautiful foliage. Its shady bowers and pleasant walks made it a delightful place of resort,—especially toward the time of sunsetting. Nature seemed to lend to it then peculiar charms.
In the centre of the town stood the old church, antiquated in its appearance, but venerable and holy in its associations. In that old-fashioned church have been settled three successive ministers of the gospel. In those high-backed, square pews were other generations wont to sit. Those pastors and their flocks now sleep in the grave. Their sons occupy their places in the sanctuary, and another herald of the cross proclaims to them the word of life. It was in this pleasant place, which I have briefly described, that Charles Duran was born.
CHAPTER II.
THE BIRTH OF CHARLES.
The birth of Charles was an occasion of great joy in Mr. Duran's family. Blessings long withheld are frequently more highly prized when at length received. Mr. Duran had no children, and was now past the meridian of life. To him this child seemed like one born out of due time.
It was amusing to see the effect produced on the parents by this, till recently, unexpected event. "Well, Molly," said Mr. Jones,—a neighbor of Mr. Duran, whose wife had just been to see the strange visitant, and who had reared a large family of children,—"how do Mr. and Mrs. Duran act with the boy?" "Act? why just like two grown-up children. And they think it is the most wonderful child that ever was born. But they don't know what it may live to be!"