ite of the fountain beneath the sundial is especially pertinent: Let every man's work be made manifest.
On the opposite side of the street stood the home of Caleb Brooks, the subject of this sketch.
This was of a different type from those already mentioned, at least in outward appearance.
It stood facing the noonday sun, its end near the angle formed by the bend of the road and shaded somewhat by a venerable elm. It is said to have been built in 175, and if so, in the year that Caleb Brooks, the future governor's father, attained his majority.
For nearly one hundred and seventy years it stood there in the turn of the road, with an entrance door near n Bar jona (and who is said to have given the name of Aber jona to the stream white men called Symmes' river), with the wigwams of the red men, down through the long line of Symmes and Brooks, with their dwellings, to the modern ones of brick, concrete and stucco that today are arising about the birthplace of the Medford governor.
I finish my letter from Herculaneum, where I now am. I have descended sixty feet into the midst of the Theatre, & the rattling of carriages over the pavement above makes this dark tomb resound as with thunder. Feby 21st 1834 Yr Br C. Brooks.
Rome March 4, 1834.
I have come to the Pantheon or Temple of all the gods, now converted into All Saints Church , & here I am writing in the midst of this vast Rotunda, hoping that these lines may not be less acceptable from being indicted [sic] under such a dome.
Here & everywhere I am yrs most sincerely C. Brooks.
Rome March 5, 1834 My dear M. Ann,
I have carried this letter in my pocket throa the ruins of Pompeii, & throa the Roman Forum, & fearing that you might think I had forgotten my promise, I send it, only because it may have some value with you from the circumstance of having been a traveller with me in each memorial place.
I shall write you soon.
With warmest wishes for yr best good I am yrs ever Charles