EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend the first arbutus bud in her garden.
In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson remembered a friend with the gift of George Washingtonâ€™s pocket spy-glass.
Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great, and passed along this trophy to a particular friend.
O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel and handed it to a country girl starting work in a bean bazaar, and scribbled: â€œPeach blossoms may or may not stay pink in city dust.â€ So it goes. Some things we buy, some not. Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe Lincoln blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called Berlin a wilderness of brick and newspapers.
So it goes. There are accomplished facts. Ride, ride, ride on in the great new blimpsâ€” Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet. When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks. We might listen to boys fighting for marbles. The grasshopper will look good to us.