How we delight to build our recollections upon some basis of reality,–a place, a country, a local habitation! how the events of life, as we look back upon them, have grown into the well-remembered background of the places where they fell upon us! Here is some sunny garden or summer lane, beautified and canonized forever, with the flood of a great joy; and here are dim and silent places,–rooms always shadowed and dark to us, whatever they may be to others,–where distress or death came once, and since then dwells forevermore.
