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is the person himself or herself； the other is the Recording Angel。
The autobiographer cannot be trusted to tell the whole truth； though
he may tell nothing but the truth； and the Recording Angel never lets
his book go out of his own hands。 As for myself； I would say to my
friends； in the Oriental phrase； 〃Live forever！〃 Yes； live forever；
and I； at least； shall not have to wrong your memories by my
imperfect record and unsatisfying commentary。
In connection with these biographies； or memoirs； more properly； in
which I have written of my departed friends； I hope my readers will
indulge me in another personal reminiscence。 I have just lost my
dear and honored contemporary of the last century。 A hundred years
ago this day； December 13； 1784； died the admirable and ever to be
remembered Dr。 Samuel Johnson。 The year 1709 was made ponderous and
illustrious in English biography by his birth。 My own humble advent
to the world of protoplasm was in the year 1809 of the present
century。 Summer was just ending when those four letters； 〃son b。〃
were written under the date of my birth； August 29th。 Autumn had
just begun when my great pre…contemporary entered this un…Christian
universe and was made a member of the Christian church on the same
day； for he was born and baptized on the 18th of September。
Thus there was established a close bond of relationship between the
great English scholar and writer and myself。 Year by year； and
almost month by month； my life has kept pace in this century with his
life in the last century。 I had only to open my Boswell at any time；
and I knew just what Johnson at my age； twenty or fifty or seventy；
was thinking and doing； what were his feelings about life； what
changes the years had wrought in his body； his mind； his feelings；
his companionships； his reputation。 It was for me a kind of unison
between two instruments； both playing that old familiar air； 〃Life；〃
one a bassoon； if you will； and the other an oaten pipe； if you
care to find an image for it； but still keeping pace with each other
until the players both grew old and gray。 At last the thinner thread
of sound is heard by itself； and its deep accompaniment rolls out its
thunder no more。
I feel lonely now that my great companion and friend of so many years
has left me。 I felt more intimately acquainted with him than I do
with many of my living friends。 I can hardly remember when I did not
know him。 I can see him in his bushy wig； exactly like that of the
Reverend Dr。 Samuel Cooper （who died in December； 1783） as Copley
painted him；he hangs there on my wall； over the revolving bookcase。
His ample coat； too； I see； with its broad flaps and many buttons and
generous cuffs； and beneath it the long； still more copiously
buttoned waistcoat； arching in front of the fine crescentic； almost
semi…lunar Falstaffian prominence； involving no less than a dozen of
the above…mentioned buttons； and the strong legs with their sturdy
calves； fitting columns of support to the massive body and solid；
capacious brain enthroned over it。 I can hear him with his heavy
tread as he comes in to the Club； and a gap is widened to make room
for his portly figure。 〃A fine day；〃 says Sir Joshua。 〃Sir；〃 he
answers； 〃it seems propitious； but the atmosphere is humid and the
skies are nebulous；〃 at which the great painter smiles； shifts his
trumpet； and takes a pinch of snuff。
Dear old massive； deep…voiced dogmatist and hypochondriac of the
eighteenth century； how one would like to sit at some ghastly Club；
between you and the bony； 〃mighty…mouthed；〃 harsh…toned termagant and
dyspeptic of the nineteenth！ The growl of the English mastiff and
the snarl of the Scotch terrier would make a duet which would enliven
the shores of Lethe。 I wish I could find our 〃spiritualist's〃 paper
in the Portfolio； in which the two are brought together； but I hardly
know what I shall find when it is opened。
Yes； my life is a little less precious to me since I have lost that
dear old friend； and when the funeral train moves to Westminster
Abbey next Saturday； for I feel as if this were 1784； and not 1884；
I seem to find myself following the hearse； one of the silent
mourners。
Among the events which have rendered the past year memorable to me
has been the demolition of that venerable and interesting old
dwelling…house； precious for its intimate association with the
earliest stages of the war of the Revolution； and sacred to me as my
birthplace and the home of my boyhood。
The 〃Old Gambrel…roofed House〃 exists no longer。 I remember saying
something； in one of a series of papers published long ago； about the
experience of dying out of a house；of leaving it forever； as the
soul dies out of the body。 We may die out of many houses； but the
house itself can die but once； and so real is the life of a house to
one who has dwelt in it； more especially the life of the house which
held him in dreamy infancy； in restless boyhood； in passionate
youth；so real； I say； is its life； that it seems as if something
like a soul of it must outlast its perishing frame。
The slaughter of the Old Gambrel…roofed House was； I am ready to
admit； a case of justifiable domicide。 Not the less was it to be
deplored by all who love the memories of the past。 With its
destruction are obliterated some of the footprints of the heroes and
martyrs who took the first steps in the long and bloody march which
led us through the wilderness to the promised land of independent
nationality。 Personally； I have a right to mourn for it as a part of
my life gone from me。 My private grief for its loss would be a
matter for my solitary digestion； were it not that the experience
through which I have just passed is one so familiar to my fellow…
countrymen that； in telling my own reflections and feelings； I am
repeating those of great numbers of men and women who have had the
misfortune to outlive their birthplace。
It is a great blessing to be born surrounded by a natural horizon。
The Old Gambrel…roofed House could not boast an unbroken ring of
natural objects encircling it。 Northerly it looked upon its own
outbuildings and some unpretending two…story houses which had been
its neighbors for a century and more。 To the south of it the square
brick dormitories and the belfried hall of the university helped to
shut out the distant view。 But the west windows gave a broad outlook
across the common； beyond which the historical 〃Washington elm〃 and
two companions in line with it； spread their leaves in summer and
their networks in winter。 And far away rose the hills that bounded
the view； with the glimmer here and there of the white walls or the
illuminated casements of some embowered； half…hidden villa。
Eastwardly also； the prospect was； in my earlier remembrance； widely
open； and I have frequently seen the sunlit sails gliding along as if
through the level fields； for no water was visible。 So there were
broad expanses on two sides at least； for my imagination to wander
over。
I cannot help thinking that we carry our childhood's horizon with us
all our days。 Among these western wooded hills my day…dreams built
their fairy palaces； and even now； as I look at them from my library
window； across the estuary of the Charles； I find myself in the
familiar home of my early visions。 The 〃clouds of glory〃 which we
trail with us in after life need not be traced to a pre…natal state。
There is enough to account for them in that unconsciously remembered
period of existence before we have learned the hard limitations of
real life。 Those earliest months in which we lived in sensations
without words； and ideas not fettered in sentences； have all the
freshness of proofs of an engraving 〃before the letter。〃 I am very
thankful that the first part of my life was not passed shut in
between high walls and treading the unimpressible and unsympathetic
pavement。
Our university town was very much like the real country； in those
days of which I am thinking。 There were plenty of huckleberries and
blueberries within half a mile of the house。 Blackberries ripened in
the fields； acorns and shagbarks dropped from the trees； squirrels
ran among the branches； and not rarely the hen…hawk might be seen
circling over the barnyard。 Still another rural element was not
wanting； in the form of that far…diffused； infragrant effluvium；
which； diluted by a good half mile of pure atmosphere； is no longer
odious； nay is positively agreeable； to many who have long known it；
though its source and centre has an unenviable reputation。 I need
not name the animal whose Parthian warfare terrifies and puts to
flight the mightiest hunter that ever roused the tiger from his
jungle or faced the lion of the desert。 Strange as it may seem； an
aerial hint of his personality in the far distance always awakens in
my mind pleasant remembrances and tender refle