Music in My Time: And Other Reminiscences

Music in My Time: And Other Reminiscences

Music in My Time: And Other Reminiscences

Music in My Time: And Other Reminiscences

Excerpt

I WONDER if our place in suburban Brookline, where I was born early in the morning of November 20, 1873, was really as spacious as it stretches in my memory, in contrast with the crowdedness of modern cities, or if it only seemed so in relation to my own small- boyhood. Our piazza looks wide as I recall it, stretching across the front of the house facing Harvard Street and turning at right angles along the smaller Green Street, which you would have to your left as you looked out our front door. To your right was the Bretts' place. From our door the lawn stretches, in my mind picture, leisurely and long, until you come to the asphalt sidewalk so agreeable to my velocipede, with the big horse-chestnut tree at the left of our front walk. The chestnuts, in their rich seal-brown, shiny and polished, used to fascinate me as they fitted so neatly their gaping green shells; it always seemed as if I could make something wonderful from them, but when I tried to cut them they wilted into shrivelled shards. Across the street was the Thomases' house. Reverend Reuen Thomas was an Englishman, and our "minister" of Harvard Church, at which my father played the organ for Sunday School, and to which he later gave a bell. Mrs. Thomas's habit of serving unsalted butter at her table filled my mother with an astonishment tinged with horror.

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