unlucky star it was that presided over the destiny of my cousin
Jehoiakim Johnson I am not astrologer enough to divine. Certain only
am I that it could have been neither Saturn, Mercury, Mars, nor Venus;
for he was far from being either wise, witty, warlike, or beautiful.

Cowper says every one falls "just in the niche he was ordained to
fill." Cowper was mistaken in one instance, for Cousin Jehoiakim had
no niche to fall into, but went wandering about the world, (our
world,) without any thing apparently to do, or any where apparently to
stay: And just the moment you wished him safe in Botany Bay, just that
very moment was he standing before you with his--but never mind a
description of his face and person. _All_ cannot be handsome; folks
unfortunately do not make themselves--and precisely the moment you
became indifferent as to his presence, or if--a _very_ rare thing--you
wished it, that very instant he was no where to be found.

"Our world" was situated in good old New England, around and about
Boston; and we, "our folks," were of the better class of farmers, and
lived within a day's ride of the city.

Never in my life have I been happier than in that free, green country,
with the broad, bright sky above me, and the clear, heaven-wide air
around me; and bird and beast frolicking in freedom and gladness near
and about me. I loved them all, and all their various noises, even to
the unearthly scream of our bright, proud peacock. I shut my eyes and
see them still; the world of gay-plumaged birds, with their sweet,
wild songs, the little white-faced lambs, the wee, _roly-poly_ pigs,
the verdant ducks, the soft, yellow goslins, and the dignified old
cows stalking about. Well do I remember each of their kind old faces.
There was the spotted heifer, with an up-turned nose, and eyes with
corners pointing toward the stars. If ever a cow is admitted into
heaven for goodness, it will surely be Daisy. Then there was the black
Alderny, and the--but leaving beef _revenons a nos moutons_--Cousin
Jehoiakim. Still the place of all others to enjoy life, life
unconstrained by city forms, life free, free as heaven's wind, is on a
New England farm. My heart bounds within me as I look back at the dear
old homestead. Just there it lies in the bend of the time-worn road
that winds its interminable length through dark elms--the gothic
ivy-clad elms--and through black giant pines, and the bright-leaved,
sugar-giving maple, and golden fields