The opening of Chapter I
"Yellow sheafs from rich Ceres the cottage had crowned,
Green rustles were strewed on the floor;
The casements sweet woodbine crept wantonly round,
And decked the sod seats at the door."--CUNNINGHAM.Hail, sweet asylum of my infancy! Content and innocence reside beneath your humble roof, and charity unboastful of the good it renders. Hail, ye venerable trees! my happiest hours of childish gayety were passed beneath your shelter--then, careless as the birds that sung upon your boughs, I laughed the hours away, nor knew of evil.
Here surely I shall be guarded from duplicity; and if not happy, at least in some degree tranquil. Here unmolested may I wait, till the rude storm of sorrow is overblown, and my father's arms are again expanded to receive me.