uite　asreasonable　to　form　a　sentimental　attachment　to　a　disarrangedchecker…board。　And　yet；　though　invariably　happiest　elsewhere；　there　iswithin　me　a　feeling　for　old　Salem；　which；　in　lack　of　a　betterphrase；　I　must　be　content　to　call　affection。　The　sentiment　is　probablyassignable　to　the　deep　and　aged　roots　which　my　family　has　struckinto　the　soil。　It　is　now　nearly　two　centuries　and　a　quarter　sincethe　original　Briton；　the　earliest　emigrant　of　my　name；　made　hisappearance　in　the　wild　and　forest…bordered　settlement；　which　has　sincebee　a　city。　And　here　his　descendants　have　been　born　and　died；　andhave　mingled　their　earthy　substance　with　the　soil；　until　no　smallportion　of　it　must　necessarily　be　akin　to　the　mortal　framewherewith；　for　a　little　while；　I　walk　the　streets。　In　part；　therefore；the　attachment　which　I　speak　of　is　the　mere　sensuous　sympathy　ofdust　for　dust。　Few　of　my　countrymen　can　know　what　it　is；　nor；　asfrequent　transplantation　is　perhaps　better　for　the　stock；　need　theyconsider　it　desirable　to　know。 But　the　sentiment　has　likewise　its　moral　quality。　The　figure　of　thatfirst　ancestor；　invested　by　family　tradition　with　a　dim　and　duskygrandeur；　was　present　to　my　boyish　imagination；　as　far　back　as　I　canremember。　It　still　haunts　me；　and　induces　a　sort　of　home…feelingwith　the　past；　which　I　scarcely　claim　in　reference　to　the　presentphase　of　the　town。　I　seem　to　have　a　stronger　claim　to　a　residence　hereon　account　of　this　grave；　bearded；　sable…cloaked　and　steeple…crownedprogenitor…　w