e,
pretension, or any other _assumption_ of superiority should mark the
dwelling of the distinguished man, but that his dwelling be of like
character with himself: plain, dignified, solid, and, as a matter of
course, altogether respectable.
It is a happy feature in the composition of our republican institutions,
both social and political, that we can afford to let the flashy men of
the _day_--not of _time_--flaunter in all their purchased fancy in
house-building, without prejudice to the prevailing sober sentiment of
their neighbors, in such particulars. The man of money, simply, may
build his "villa," and squander his tens of thousands upon it. He may
riot within it, and fidget about it for a few brief years; he may even
hang his coat of arms upon it, if he can fortunately do so without
stumbling over a lapstone, or greasing his coat against the pans of a
cook-shop; but it is equally sure that no child of his will occupy it
after him, even if his own changeable fancy or circumstances permit him
to retain it for his natural life. Such are the episodes of country
house-building, and of frequent attempts at agricultural life, by those
who affect it as a matter of ostentation or display. For the subjects of
these, we do not write. But there is something exceedingly grateful to
the feelings of one of stable views in life, to look upon an estate
which has been long in an individual family, still maintaining its
primitive character and respectability. Some five-and-twenty years ago,
when too young to have any established opinions in matters of this sort,
as we were driving through one of the old farming towns in
Massachusetts, about twenty miles west of Boston, we approached a
comfortable, well-conditioned farm, with a tavern-house upon the high
road, and several great elms standing about it. The road passed between
two of the trees, and from a cross-beam, lodged across their branches,
swung a large square sign, with names and dates painted upon it--name
and date we have forgotten; it was a good old Puritan name, however--in
this wise:
"John Endicott, 1652."
"John Endicott, 1696."
"John Endicott, 1749."
"John Endicott, 1784."
"John Endicott, 1817."
As our eyes read over this list, we were struck with the stability of a
family who for many consecutive generations had occupied, by the same
name, that venerable spot, and ministered to the comfort of as many
generations of travelers, and incontinently took off
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