Eastern times., 1855-05-10
MiseeIlanp.
TWO-OLD-CAT.
A REVERE.

We publish the following pleasantly writ
ten article, the production of GEORGE w.
HAsKINs, Associate Editor of the Democra-
cy, because we like its spirit. Happy is the
person who can preserve enough of the buoy
ancy Of childhood in the maturity of age to
bear in kindly recollection the scenes and
sports of earlier years, and who loves to steal
away from the stern duties Of life 10 dwell
awhile among the bye-gones, and grow young
again amid the hopes and fears, joys and sor-
rows, excitements and despondency of sea-
son when the heart beats with quick, full, i,
bounding pulse, and care had not furrowed
the brow and fevered the brain. Sad indeed,
must be the reveries of one who cherishes no
sweet memories of childhood-feels no returns
Of its inspiration, and never trusts his heart 10
wander back to 'the green pastures and still
waters of its dreams and loves. 1t is well to
cut loose from the responsibilities of this pres
ent, and the anxieties which are continually
reaching into the ever-receding future, to sit
awhile as child by the old hearth-stone, or
indulge in the generous rivalry of boyhood's
game. We bespeak careful reading for this
reverie, and ask our readers 10 unite with us
in thanking the author for rendering in Ian
0uage SO simple and appropriate this chapter
OF schooi-Doy a-y~.
Among the forerunners of spring, the
signs of fresh shad,' the spectacle of veal up
bnt,hare' ctaltS he of
coanots and other fruits of the tropics, and the
tinklc of the scissors grinders bell, there is
one other that appears to the memory of those
who ever really were boys, with an earnest
ness and force there is no resisting. We
felt it the other day, for the first time. 1t
was balmy, bright morning the sun was
rising, the fogs were still obscuring the hills
of Chautaque, the din of the town had scarce
commenced, and barring the distant howl of a
locomotive, and the nearer bark of dog, no
inharmonious sounds obtruded upon the ear.
We threw open the window, TO allow the
pure, fresh breeze 10 visit our temples, and
as we did so, there came, family borne upon
the zephyr, the cry of boys, and the well-re-
membered, dull, stubborn sound of the ball
striking the bat. They were playing ball.
Instant, and sudden as those fitting memories
that drift through the brain when at the verge
of dissolution, back came to US the days of
youth, not dark and vague, but seen through
the vista of intermediate life, as through a
telescope, the incidents of that far off time
stood out, clear as shadows on the wall,
though sofiened and tranquilized by distance.
After breakfast, strollIng 10 our daily task,
we came to where the boys were playing, and
we stood for some minutes, the while our
memory was working, and the dead past,
with all its recollections, all its long-forgot-
ten joys and sorrows, filed before our minds
eye, and became again present and active.
We saw the little school-house of our child
hood, and the companions of our rudimen,al
studies the master with his tyrannical rule ;
the meek, suffering child who was beaten, but
never complained, and who finally went to
Heaven, supplicating blessings on the head
that had coniriyed for hin so much misery
we saw the burly, honest. generous lad, coarse
and ugly in his physical parts, whose gentle
mind and swelling heart used to revolt at that
vile tyranny, and on whose sturdy back so
MANY vicarious blows have fallen we stood
once more over the grave of our early com
panion, who died when school was going
OUT and whose mother came to us, with tear
ful eyes, beseeching silence, for 'poor Joe was
dead : we saw again the green slopes on
which we were used to play at boyish games,
long after the sun had set in Canada, and the
lowing of home-tending kline told Of approach
ing night; we heard again, the drowsy hum
Of the bees that wrought fheir patient task
just beneath the school-room windows, send
ing visitor nov and then, to inspect and
alarm US at our studies we saw the pretty