Old Uncle Hampshire [pp. 430-440]

OLD UNCLE HA4MPSHIRE.
OLD UNCLE HAMPSHIRE.
HE homestead of the Glenn plan tation-better known as Jasmine
Hill - never looked more enchanting
than on the moonlit evening which introduces the reader to its great, spreading four-story house (all on the first
floor); its broad passage, sweeping from
front to rear; its pretentious balconies,
festooned with climbing plants and flowering vines, which, in their generous
luxuriance of bloom, kindly threw a
beauteous mantle over architectural deformities and short- comings.
This rude, old - fashioned structure,
which occupies the highest point of an
area embracing hundreds of acres, has
been the homestead of the Glenn family
for more than half a century. Additions
outside have kept steady pace with additions inside - and have been made, as
occasion demanded, without for once
consulting Ruskin's Seven Lamhs of
Architecture-until the old mansion can
be said to resemble nothing in heaven
above, in the earth beneath, or in the
waters under the earth. The servants'
quarters scattered all about-small whitewashed tenements of two or three rooms
— give it, from a distance, the appearance of a little rural village; but as you
drive up the long, shady avenue, the
expansive old dwelling, with its air of
good-natured hospitality, reminds you
of a motherly old hen, whose chicks,
having outgrown her capacity for brooding, have squatted themselves down in
close and loving proximity to her benignant, over-distended, sprawling wings.
The avenue and grounds are densely
shaded with a vigorous native growth
of black-jack and scarlet oak, beech,
sweet-gum, sycamore, long-leaved pine,
chestnut, and chincapin - trees-inter
spersed with the superb magnolia; the
althea with its wealth of flowers and humming- birds; the tulip - tree, gorgeous in
beauty; the catalpa with its great, spreading boughs of bloom; the dogwood, now
in fruit, with its berries of vivid scarlettempting to the eye, but not good for
food; the little coterie of persimmontrees, needing the autumnal frost to mellow and sweeten their fruitage, even as
many a nature needs adversity's frost
to ripen and soften it. Then, as if not
satisfied with this prodigality of bloom,
Nature tries her hand at bedecking the
rude tree-trunks with climbing shrubs,
so profuse with foliage and flowers as
to hide every ugly excrescence. The
trumpet-flower, the scarlet woodbine,
the honeysuckle, the yellow jasmine,
and the cross -vine, emulate each other
in this work of decoration-while here
and there, as if for pleasing contrast, the
ragged drapery of Spanish moss throws
itself over the graceless branches of
less comely trees. Hedges of sweetbrier, Osage orange, arbor vitce, and
euonymus, define the walks and drives
of the inclosure. This sylvan retreat is
the paradise of birds, with plumage almost as bright and varied as the flowers. It is night: but the garrulous
mocking-bird is too happy to hush his
musical medley of song, and, hidden
among the beautiful green foliage, and
bright, yellow berries of yonder proud
China-tree, he is answering the carol of
a distant mate. The air is freighted
with perfume from the dew-tipped flowers; and the white moonlight sheds a
deep, soft beauty over the scene, causing the quivering leaves and spreading
branches to throw grotesque shadows
along the ground.
[Nov.
430