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Show CUPID'S GROVE IN QUINCY. Among my boyish recollections there is distinctly visible a very pretty hill, which rose from the banks of the river, or what passed for one, and was covered with trees of the original forest growth. This was known as Cupid's Grove, and it had been known under that title for at least three generations, and perhaps from the settlement of the town. The name suggests the purposes to which this sylvan spot was dedicated. It was the resort of the lovers of the town, or of those who, if circumstances favored, might become so. The trunks of the trees were cute and scarred all over with the initials of ladies who were fair and beloved, or who once had been so; for it was then the fashion to pay modest maidens a compliment which would be now thought in very doubtful taste. But, as Shakespeare makes his Orlando - a fine, spirited fellow and very much of a gentleman - cut the name of Rosalind upon every available bit of timber in the forest of Arden, it will not be necessary to apologize for the habits of my contemporaries in this respect. In those old times it happened that a certain young lawyer, named John Adams, was wont to visit a good deal at the house of a great-grandfather of mine, who had a large landed estate and several daughters; and the family tradition is that one of these ladies was not wholly uninteresting to the young fellow, who had just begun his struggle with the world. Just what it all amounted to it is impossible to say, at this distance of time; neither would it be well to say it, even if it were possible. The historical facts are that my great aunt married Ebenezer Storer, a gentleman of some pretension, who was forty years treasurer of Harvard College, and that young Adams married Miss Abigail Smith. Eventful years rolled by, and I, a young man, just entering life, was deputed to attend my venerable relative on a visit to the equally venerable ex-President. Both parties were verging upon their ninetieth year. They had met very infrequently, if at all, since the days of their early intimacy. When Mrs. Storer entered the room, the old gentleman's face lighted up, as he exclaimed, with ardor: "What! Madam, shall we not go walk in Cupid's Grove together?" To say the truth, the lady seemed somewhat embarrassed by this utterly unlooked-for salutation. It seemed to hurry her back through the past with such rapidity as fairly to take away her breath. But self-possession came at last, and with it a suspicion of girlish archness, as she replied: "Ah! sir, it would not be the first time that we have walked there." [unreadable] Quincy, in Independent. |