Personal Recollections | Page 3

the peculiarities of the
place; nor must they be omitted here. The sphere in which it is my
dearest privilege to labor, is the cause of Protestantism; and sometimes
when God has blessed my poor efforts to the deliverance of some
captive out of the chains of Popish delusion, I have recalled the fact of
being born just opposite the dark old gateway of that strong building

where the noble martyrs of Mary's day were imprisoned. I have
recollected that the house wherein I drew my first breath was visible
through the grated window of their prison, and a conspicuous object
when its gates unfolded to deliver them to unjust judgment and a cruel
death. Are any of the prayers of those glorified saints fulfilled in the
poor child who was brought into the world on that particular spot,
though at the distance of some ages? The query could not be answered,
but the thought has frequently cheered me on. The stern-looking
gateway opening on St. Martin's plain, was probably one of the very
first objects traced on the retina of my infant eye, when it ranged
beyond the inner walls of the nursery; and often, with tottering step, I
passed beneath that arch into the splendid garden of our noble episcopal
palace; and certainly, if my Protestantism may not be traced to that
locality, my taste may; for from all the elaborate display of modern
architecture, all the profuse luxuriance and endless variety of modern
horticulture, I now turn away, to feast in thought on the recollection of
that venerable scene. The palace itself is a fine specimen of the chaste
old English style; but the most conspicuous, the most unfading feature,
was the cathedral itself, which formed the boundary of one-half of the
garden; a mass of sober magnificence, rising in calm repose against the
sky, which, to my awe-struck gaze and childish imagination, seemed to
rest upon its exquisitely formed spire. Seated on the grass, busying my
fingers with the daisies that were permitted to spring around, I have
been lost in such imaginings as I suppose not many little children
indulge in, while permitting my eyes to rove over the seemingly
interminable mass of old grey stone, and then to fall upon the pleasant
flowers around me. I loved silence, for nothing that fell on the ear
seemed in accordance with what so charmed the eye; and thus a
positive evil found entrance in the midst of much enjoyment. I acquired
that habit of dreamy excursiveness into imaginary scenes, and among
unreal personages, which is alike inimical to rational pursuits and
opposed to spiritual- mindedness. To a period so early as the middle of
my fourth year I can revert with the most perfect, most vivid
recollection of my habitual thoughts and feelings; and at that age, I can
unhesitatingly declare, my mind was deeply tinctured with a romance
not derived from books, nor from conversation, but arising, as I verily
believe, out of the singular adaptation to each other of my natural taste

and the scenery amidst which it began to develop itself. Our abode was
changed to another part of the city before this period arrived; but the
bishop's garden was still our haunt, and my supreme delight.
An immense orchard, shrubbery, and flower-garden were attached to
my father's new residence, to which he had removed on account of its
proximity to the church of which he was rector. This, too, was an old-
fashioned house, mantled with a vine, and straggling out, in irregular
buildings, along the slope of the garden. The centre of an immense
grass-plot, studded with apple, pear, and plum trees, was occupied by
the most gigantic mulberry I ever beheld, the thick trunk of which
resembled that of a knotted oak, while in its forest of dark branches
nestled a number of owls and hats. Oh, how I loved to lurk beneath its
shadow on a summer evening, and await the twilight gloom, that the
large owl might come forth and wheel around the tree, and call out his
companions with a melancholy hoot; while the smaller bat, dipping
lower in his flight, brushed by me, accustomed to my presence. I had
entered betimes upon the pernicious study of nursery tales, as they then
were, and without having the smallest actual belief in the existence of
fairies, goblins, or any such things, I took unutterable delight in
surrounding myself with hosts of them, decked out in colors of my own
supplying, gorgeous or terrible beyond the conception of my classic
authorities. The faculty of realizing whatever I pictured to myself was
astonishingly great; and you must admit that the localities in which I
was placed were but too favorable to the formation of a character which
I have no doubt the