The hydraulic press., 1858-09-04
Or iginal.]
LOG CABIN ENKLINGS.
No. III.

to me about log cabins, apart from
the fact that such an edifce is my
abode-endeared to me by the magic
of association. which can invest the
meanest objects with poetry-and
sancti6ed by the growth of a new
mentality. I never encounter one in
my aimless rambles through these old
pine woods, without pausing to regard
it and to indulge in those pleasing,
yet melancholy, speculations which it
is certain to inspire.
If it chances to be deserted
weeds are growing by its open door.
within its timbered walls and over the
path that leads to spring or stream, ii
is then aspectacle of sadness, and full
Of human interest. l try to trace its
history in my mind:-I see its strong
armed and hopeful builders toiling at
its constructions see them resting
beneath its grateful shade at sultry
noon, or smoking their evening pipes
in its itful fre-light-talking, or mu
sing, tenderly over the past, or cheer
fully dilating upon the golden promise
of future that may or may not come.
| see them lying upon their rude
couches, through the dark, still night
Of the woods, wrapt in visions Of
wealth, of home, of love; and the
thought of such a deep, quiet mystery
as these beating, dreaming hearts in
this far solitude, appals me by its So
lemnity.
Where are they now? The query
can be put aloud, and no answer come
but from the chattering maybe or
moaning pine.
Perhaps a mound of earth near by
Will tell, for one of them, the story of
how he laid down to die in the. wilder
ness, and how every autumn the
leaves will fall and and the winds
blow upon a grave that friends may
uSFtI uuu.
:. Better this than to roam disappoin-
ted of ones .desires-lonely, despair
ing, useless or criminal-oyer world
which is numbered by our presence.
But joy may issue from these log walls
as well as grief. The last step that
crossed this threshold may have been
homeward bound, light with success
and delicious anticipations. The once
lonely toiler may now be the chief
pillar in some edi6ce of domestic hap
piness far across the continent, and
where he, lies slumbering in the arms
Of love, may be dreaming of this old
cabin in the mountains of the Pacific.
All through California can be found
these cabins in the woods-tenantless
many Of them, like this, but many
more, as once this was, the scenes of
hardy toll, Of buoyant hopes, Of tend>
er, yearning recollections.
There are cabins which are dear to
me elsewhere than in these mountains
of my adoption. One | remember
that stood in the gentle vale of Mess
hoppen-near the storied loneliness Of
Wyoming, almost within hearing of
the cries that went up from the red
tragedy they call "the massacre. y
This cabin is of. rare antiquity, for it
was built three score years ago, and
its ruins-for it is a mere heap of
stones and. decaying logs now-lie
naked to the sunlight that did not fall
upon its site when it was first put up.
Hard by there ran a creek, which
froze up every winter, land in the sum-
mer yielded the .rarest trout that ever
boy angled for; and nearer yet a huge
butternut tree spread its shade and
offered, every autumn, its tempting
feast of nuts. Along this creek an
orchard pelted the level, stubbled
meadow with ripe apples, which lazy
oxen drew in dripping loads to the
creaKlng clder pIesS. Behind thai
rose hill, on the summit of which
was noble grove of sugar-maples
whose sweets were often Withdrawn
But what of the cabin? / said i
was built sixty years ago-it was
longer ago than that. Two brothers
in the prime of life went there tt
make free homes for themselves, wher
all that country was bowling wilder
ness, and there were no human habit
atoms for many miles around.
They went with their axes anC
their stout hearts, and one Of then
took young wife along-a brave
young woman from the Narraganset
Isle. And this married couple reared
a large group of loving intelligences
| -, khok ool,r - k1o xvooIo or1 Al