Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1846-12-24
select Tales.

"Full many gem of purest ray serene,


The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear,
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
We have often thought if the heart-liTe of the
Pioneers of the West could be faithfully por-
trayed, it would reveal 70 US more of the true
human soul than the Mysteries of London and
Paris. Nature is so free and unresrained-so
unbiased by association, and so untrammeled
by custom and the arbitrary enactments of those
who assume to dictate the rules of life, that we
seem to approach the inner temple of the hu,
man heart, and to see it, not through the veil
but in its own uncovered sanctuary. 1t would
be pleasure to us, should we possess the lei
sure of some future day to reveal our apprecia.
ton of the noble hearts who courageousIy broke
the silence Of the forest by the sturdy arm that
swung the woodman's axe and brought in its
stead the wealth of a cultivated land. We
must, however at present content ourselves with
the penciling of hasty sketch, bearing in MIND
the old maxm-'duty before pleasure
1t was at the close Of fine day in early au.
tumn that farmer Lawrence was seated under a
rude porch or verandah, in front Of log cabin
that bore strong traces of the impress of years
and as he gazed on the beautiful end yariec
landscape before him, he occasionally sang Oh
whisted a snatch Of some familiar tune. Yet
though he seemed intensely interested, it wa:
evidently not on the scene before him, thougl
there was no lack of rural beauty in the cult
waited landscape near, nor in the artistic elfec
of the distant forest, just assuming the regular
splendor of autumn to lead even stranger tt
give Indifferent heed to them, much less one
whose hand had redeemed yonder smiling mead
ow from the wilderness, and the field where
waved the golden corn, from the dominion o
the wild and hungry wolf
Near the old cabin stood new farm house
just completed, and the half unfinished rooms
sent back the echo of the merry voices Of the
children as they sung and shouted till the roo
rang again. but even this did not seem to move
the stald countenance of the honest farmer
His good wife was busy within, and her tot
was envened by cheerful song which she car
oiled like bird-doubtless some favored lay o
other years, At length, after few more re-
turns from the oven to the buttery, Mrs. Law
ne took her knitting and seated herself on
the rude bench beside her husband.
well, Charles said she I'VE have done gu
last baking in the old oven suppose, for tn
boys say they mean to tear the old house dow
as soon as we get fairly moved into the ne,
one
All! Lucy returned Mr.. Lawrence Il fea
we never shall be so happy under the new roc
as we have been under this dear old shelter
rude as it has been. was just taking re
Prospect OF the past; and it seems to me that W
shall hardly find the rest of Iife's journey S
sweet, notwithstanding our tolls and prvj
tons
The path of duty will ever be sweet dea
est, said his wife in a tone of melting tende
ness. He looked into the still beautiful face {
his Lucy, and wondered how he could have 70
gotten for a moment that hopefulness of spir
which she had ever seemed to breathe upo
him.
True, we shall ever be happy in the perform
ance of duty, always happy in spirit, eve
though trials should lie in our pathway return
ed he thoughtfulIy. Yet the past now seen
encrcled with glorles of which we did not eve
dream as we glided along. was thinking, de-
Lucy, of our early love, of the fathfulness an
courage that led you to this distant home, an
made you smile at toll, and sing even in adve
sity-cf the endearments of our infant one
now grown so tall they seem almost like stra
gers, or rather like our former selves, and abo'
all, of that peace and quiet which we have
many years known together under this hunb
roof feared we should forget some of OIL
humility in the realization of our highest cart
ly hopes and that our communion with O
Heavenly Father would have in it more fort
and less of spirit. was thinking, too, tn
our little circles once broken by death, was to
again invaded--though not thus | trust f
many years.
Don't say that our circle has ever been b.