Meigs County telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy [Ohio]) 1848-1859, 1858-02-16
Tne Old-Tin,c Firc-Rlace.
By b. r, TAYLOR.

. .aef.,r By B. r. TAYLOR. "a t 80.
i.f .a-.-.s-i., 49, t-rfsaeG f.ri
A little like hollow hearted tree, bare
Of bark and bereft OF life and leaf, is the
old -fas hioned chimney, whatever the swal-
lows may think of it; the .old-fashioned
chimney, we say, for the little brick dice
that now "a days perch on the ridge, have
neither beauty nor bird TO bless themselves
with. But the huge old stacks that used
to be built from cellar to garret, along with
small sweeps" and big fires, went sing
ing bass and alto; and down which, many
an old war-t time, the painted Indian has
descended;, and good st. Nicholas, for
rpany Ciristfiss, has bounded, with a
light, little laugh, right on to the hearth,
Wicked ears, before now, have listened, at
chimney tops, TO catch the "household
words,' that, like the voices FROM n nest
of swallows. came up from the dear old
corner below. We like to remember how
the brick used TO grow red in the
rising sun, while the threshold was yet in
the morning shadow; how departing day
set its glowing fire thereon, and stepped
thence to the crown of the maple, and
thence to the hill, the cloud, the heaven,
till all five were tinted in turn, as noise
lessly as the footballs of the angels on the
ladder of Bethel To remember how the
birds sat upon its edge and sang; how
welcome were its thin wreaths of smoke,
rising above the trees, to the weary old
soldier, off duty at last; how far and grand
its shadow used to lie on the grass, when
the sun was low, and crept farther and
farther, as if it would fain get away, and
be like an object of human ambition-a
shadow without any substance whatever.
To think how Euroclydon made boat
swain of itself, and piped upon the chin
ney top, as if it had been whistle; how
November moaned over it melancholy
tune; how clustering March set his lips
to it, and blew clarion; how the turbu-
lent brotherhood of air roared down its
gloomy shaft, and the timid flames lay
trembling upon ;he half-burned wood; how,
when they repented--those winds-and
went signing away, like so many Rachels
who would not be comforted, those fear
full little flames Just lifted to listen as
gracefully as sea-brds among the reeds,
and then lowered again, until the blast
went by.
1t argues the possession Of stomach,
but we love to think what fragrance Of
feasts has gone up the old fashioned CHM
ney's great bound jaws; what aroma
of the roasting tails of pigs, that turned,
with the slowly untwisting string; of the
johnny cake" nicely browning on the
board set aslant; of the cloud of in
cense, when the coal Laden cover OF the
time-honored "bake-kettle" was lifted,
that went up from the Indian pudding,
the color of gold; or the immemorial
beans with their crisp-rinded pork; of the
cakes with quirl IN them, and the small
"man of dough" merrily frying; Of the
pot-lid's cymbal-like music, while the old
farmers dinner was dancing a lively jig
below.
We recall with a sigh, the times when
we thrust the shovel fiercely among the
burning billets of wood, and as the sparks
rushed up, like driving storm of red me-
teors, "wished wished we had as many
sheep, as many dollars, as many" Golden
Sweetings;" and so we made wilder lunges
at the fire, and wished" again. We can
never forget the little summers there used
to be around the broad hearth, whose
bright horizon ilIumined the far corners of
the great kitchen; within whose charmed
ring all whom we loved best, and almost
all that we hoped most, were gathered,
ere death came, or they found that Para
disc was bounded on the east by the
World. Ah, the pleasant voices that were
blended, the sweet songs that were sung,
the old stories that were told, the long
love that was looked, there, in the midst
of those small Junes, buried in the white,
wild bosom of winter.
We love to think with what homely
words, in its warm and roomy corners,
heart has answered heart; when he looked
into the Goals that clouded and Redeemed,
in the small hours beyond the twelve, and
she dropped a stitch in the blue -clouded
stockings, and narrowed OFF, without
"setting the e'heel;" we love to think what
faithful lives theyled, and We are half in
clnec to believe, sometimes, that love,
like crickets, thriyes best around the spa
cious fireplace, SO liberal and cheerful
and companionable it is. .@a
Infancy has crept over the threshold.
and coming and gong manhood has worn
it smooth. but up the dark and grim ave-
nue. of the chimney, what forest monarchs
have vanished into air; what billowy
brands, tervid and full of song, have fall
len into rubies between the andirons; what
brave old oaks have dashed against the
jambs, like waves assaulting some strong
sea wall. and scared aloft; what leafy
coverts Of summer birds have curlcd and
drifted upward with the tide of fire; what
stately trees, along whose rolling tops the
mornings went, beneath whose shelter
troops of deer reposed, around whose
trunks the ivy twined, and tossed its ten
drills to the wind; along whose branches
the panther may have lain, that caught
some ''leather stockings" keen and wary
glance, whose rude, sblazed" bark may
once have marked the march of empire, or
its half-rent frame the route of tempests,
such old historians are these stately trees,
rived into cord-wood, and turned to fiery
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