The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1858-02-03


the course of the day our clergyman him
self strides forth, perchance to pay round
Of pastoral visits, or, it may be, to visit
his mountain Of a wood pile, and cleaye
the monstrous logs into billets suitable for
the fire. He returns with fresher life to
his beloved hearth. During the short
afternoon, the western sunshine comes in
to the study, and strives to stare the rud-
dy blaze out Of countenance, but with on
ly brief triumph, soon to be succeeded
by brighter glories Of its rival. Beautiful
It is to see the strengthening gleam-the
deepening light-that gradually casts dis
tinct shadows of the human figure, the
tabA and the high backed chairs, upon
the opposite wall, and at length, as twi-
light comes on, replenishes the room With
living radiance, and makes life all rose
color. Afar, the wayfarer discerns the
Pickering fame, as It dances upon the
windows, and halls it as beacon light
of humanity, reminding him in his cold
and lonely way, that the world is not al
snow, and solitude, and desolation. At
eventide, probably, the study WAS pco-
pie with the clergyman's wife and family;
and the children tllmbled themselves mp
on the hearth-rug, and grave Puss sat
with her back to the fire, or gazed with
a semblance of human meditation, into
its feryid depths. Seasonably, the plen
teous ashes Of the day are raked over the
mouldering brands, and from the heap
came jets of fame, and an incense of
night-long smoke, creeping quietly up the
chimney.
Heaven forgive the old clergyman -
In lis later life, when, for almost ninety
winters, he had been gladlened by the
fire light-when it had cleaned upon
him from infancy to extreme age, and
never without Frightening his spirits as
well as his visage, and perhaps keeping
him alive SO long-he had the heart to
brick up his chilnney-place, and bid fare
well to the face Of his old friendsafor ever
Why did G not take an eternal leave of
the suns Inc too? His sixty cords of
wood had probably dwindled to far less
supply in modern times; and it is certain
that the parsonage had grown crazy with
time and tempest, and peryious to the
cold; but still it WIS one of the saddest
tokens of the decline and fall of open fire
places, that the grey patriarch should
have deignel to warm himself at an air
tight stove.
And |, likewiso-who have found a
home in this ancient OWLS nest, since its
former occupant took his heavenward
to my shame, have put up stoves
in kitchen, and parlor, and chamber
Wander where you will about the house,
nota glimpse Of the carth-born heaven
aspiring iend of Htna-him that sports
in the thunder-s torm-tho idol of the
deyourer Of cities-the for
est rioter and prairie sweeper-the future
destroyer Of our earth-the old chimney
corner companion, who mingled himself
SO socially with household joys and sor-
rows-not glimpse Of this mighty and
kindly one will greet your eyes. He is
now an invisible presence. There is his
iron cage. Touch it and he scorches your
fingers. He delights to SINCE garment
or perpetrate any other little unworthy
mischief; for his temper is ruined by the
of mankind, for whom he
cherished such warmth of feeling, and to
whom he taught all their arts, even that
of making his own prison house. In his
fits Of rage, he puffs volumes Of smoke
and noisome gas through the crevices of
the door, and shakes the iron walls Of
his dungeon, so as to overthrow the or
namental urn upon its summit. Wetrem-
bic, lest he should break forth amongst us
Much of his time is spent in sighs, bur
thened with unutterable grief and long
drawn through the funnel, He amusos
himself, too, with repeating all the wills
pers, the means, and the louder utteran-
ces or tempestuous howls Of the wind;
so that the stove becomes the microcosm
of the aerial world Occasionally there
are strange combinations Of sounds-voi-
ces talking almost articulately within the
hollow chest of iron--insomuch that fan
cy bcguiles me with the idea that my fire
wood must have grown in the internal
forest of lamentable trees, which breathed
their complaint to Dante. When the lis
tener is half a sleep, hemay readily take
these voices for the conversation Of spirits
and assign them an ineligible meaning.
Anon, there is a patt ring noise-drip,
drip, drip,-as if summer shower were
falling around within the narrow stove.