The hydraulic press., 1858-09-04

lnSyet, DlacK no longer, but brown
with decay, and so soft they sink un-
der the foot. The forests of hemlock,
hickory, oak, chestnut and maple
which stood thick around those early
fallows, Astounding in deer, and foxes,
and bears, with much Of smaller
game, are thinned out now, and ten
antless.
The ruins of the old cabin by the
butternut tree on the creek, are all
overgrown by briars and inhabited by
burrowing animals; whilst from an
ascent near by a huge white house,
with porches and green blinds on ev-
cry side and stiff, modish chimneys at
the gables, looks haughtily down up
on the decay of its humble predeces-
sor.
But the brothers are not there
they went long ago, where the young
wife lately went with white head
and very quietly. That loving circle
which grew up around them is broken
and not one representative remains
upon the natal spot. l have stood by
those ruins and thought of the daily
hopes, and prayers, and labors-of
the affections, joys and griefs-of the
births, marriages and deaths-in brief,
of the whole, life drama that was
played out under the now fallen roof
during a half-century of dead years,
until every stone and rotting timber
seemed articulate with sadness and
preached of human nothingness.--
This is picture Of the settlement of
our countfy-of its reclamation from
the wilds-of its sturdy pioneers who
erected their domestic sanctuaries in
the primal woods, which fell before
them and left no shadows for their
graves.
Thus the log cabin has gone across
the American continent-from the
frozen shores that spread their white
desolation before the first New En~
gland eyes, gazing from the deck of
the May Flower,ln 1920, to the SUM-
ny slopes and golden streams of the
Pacifi, coast in 1858. Everywhere
it has been the primitive abode of A.
merican freemen-the first lodge in
the wilderness-the advance post of
civilization-the shrine of DEVOTION
the protection in danger-the births
place of many apatriot whose bones
now rest in marble. 1t has history
grander than that of Coliseum or Pan
theon, for we can trace in its progress
from ocean to ocean-from the pine
forests of Maine to those Of California
through disappearing woods and
over rugged hills, the progress of our
liberty, our nationality, and our great
ness. We can see it amongst those
New England hills, grit by forests
the abode of savages, and fortified
and watched with jealous care. We
can see the seemingly Insignificant
axe biting its clear way into the re-
ceding trees, and cultivated fields VII
dening as those trees ietire. There
is Puritan mother standing by the
cabin door, surrounded by frolicsome
children, looking towards the chopper
where he swings his shining axe, and
listening to its sharp, ringing echoes
through the aisles of stately trees
Night falls peacefully upon the scene
at last. Deep silence, broken only
by the whippowil-bat bark! That
dreadful yell! That shrek of woman
borne upon the shivering gale-those
flaming arrows on the cabin roof
those unayailing shots-that sudden
blaze-those demon forms that frant~
ically leap!-and then-all stiffness
but the cracking flames, which lick
the fatal spot where whole Christ-
ian family has just been blotted out
in blood, leaving but their ashes for a
memorial. Thus has it often Jared
with the American settlers, but often
er they beat the midnight foe-even
the frail arm of woman barring the
door against his approach-and they
kept on chopping their way across the
continent, preceding the advent Of
more civilized times with their border
line of cabins. Hence the humble
log cabin stands to me as the repre-
sentative object and a memorial
possessing all the charms of an antiq-
uity without being ancient, and serv-
ing, at the same time, as the type Of
a new era, in whose development the
pioneer builder is an unconscious
agent.
n.t;zan &C tha old rorld - O.