hildish indiscretions, the traces of these things have all
vanished; nothing remains but the record of long summer-days of delight.
Up and down, in and out, I wandered, at will, within certain limits.

An old cider mill (for such things _were_ in New England) in the orchard
was the remotest verge in one direction; to sit near it, and watch the
horse go slowly round and round, and chat with Chauncey, the youngest
son of the house, who was superintending it, was a great pleasure; but
most of my out-of-doors enjoyments were solitary. I think this must have
given a zest to them, for at home I was seldom alone. I was one of a
little troop of brothers' and sisters, whose pleasures were all _plays_,
gregarious and noisy. It was a new thing to be so quiet, and to give my
still fancies such a range. I was never weary of watching the long
processions of snow-white geese, moving along the turfy sides of the
road, solemn and stately, each garnished with that awkward appendage the
"_poke_," which seemed to me very cruel, since, in my simplicity, I
believed that the perpendicular rod in the center passed, like a spit,
directly through the bird's neck. Then, how inexhaustible were the
resources of the flower garden, on the southern side of the house, into
which a door opened from the parlor, the broad semicircular stone
doorsteps affording me a favorite seat.

What a variety of treasures were spread out before me: larkspurs, from
whose pointed nectaries I might weave "circles without end," varying the
pattern of each by alternate proportions of blue, and pink, and white.
There were foxgloves to be examined, whose depths were so mysteriously
freckled; there were clusters of cowslips, and moss-pinks to be
counted. There were tufts of ribbon-grass to be searched as diligently
as ever merchandise in later days, for perfect matches; there were
morning-glories, and moon-sleeps, and four o'clocks, and evening
primroses to be watched lest they might fail to be true to their
respective hours in opening and shutting. There were poppies, from whose
"diminished heads" the loose leaves were to be gathered in a basket,
(for they might stain the apron,) and lightly spread in the garret for
drying. There were ripe poppy-seeds to be shaken out through the curious
lid of their seed-vessel, in which a child's fancy found a curious
resemblance to a _pepper-box_; I often forced it to serve as one in the
imaginary feasts spread out on the door-step, though