ten in the morning
After all , my uncle Ro is sometimes mistaken ; though candor compels me to acknowledge that he is very often right . `` I see thee still , Remembrance , faithful to her trust , Calls thee in beauty from the dust ; Thou comest in the morning light , Thou ` rt with me through the gloomy night ; In dreams I meet thee as of old : Then thy soft arms my neck enfold , And thy sweet voice is in my ear : In every sense to memory dear I see thee still . '' -- SPRAGUE . It was just ten in the morning of the succeeding day when my uncle Ro and myself came in sight of the old house at the Nest . I call it _ old _ , for a dwelling that has stood more than half a century acquires a touch of the venerable , in a country like America . To me it was truly old , the building having stood there , where I then saw it , for a period more than twice as long as that of my own existence , and was associated with all my early ideas . From childhood I had regarded that place as my future home , as it had been the home of my parents and grandparents , and , in one sense , of those who had gone before them for two generations more .