Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1871-06-08

cedar tree at the angle of the road and
the street, and up from the little river
came the gurgle Of the waves among
the great boulders of granite. The nut
hatch chirped and the wren still sang
on
| glared at my enemy. lie hitched
up his plaid trowsers and grinned say
agely at me-
"Anybody seed Mr.. Tom Hunter
round yer?' inquired the negro who
drove the splendid carriage.
"l'm the man." said |, trying to brush
the dust off, and reawange my soiled
habiliments.
The driver looked at me with wide
open eyes, but touched his hat respect
fully.
"Where's your baggage, massa? Is
come for to take yer to our house."
care you Mr.. MAYORS coachman?"
| stammered.
'I's his carriage driver, sah"
"Oh, ali! yes said |, wiping my face.
My trunk and valise were strapped
to the rear Of the vehicle. Loaters
stood around and looked on curiously,
and whispering. My late antagonist
among the number.
The carriage door was opened and |
stepped in. Some one remarked that
zone big-bug had got limbered."
The driver fourished his whip and
we rolled away, followed by deafening
cheers from the loaterS, Perhaps the
wren was still singing, but | could not
hear it.
Everything considered, I was in a
bad prcdicament, but | did not fairly
realize it till we were several miles in
the country. What was | to do to
make myself presentable? Such words
as Katie Davenport rang in my ears.
You see my shirt was torn, and my coat
split across the back, to say nothing of
Elood spots on my vest and sleeves.
Surely | must change my clothes.
While yet was at a loss what to do,
the driver turned his horses from the
road, and halted them beside lovely
spring that gushed from a great ledge
Of rocks.
"What areyou going to do ?" I asked,
opening the door and looking out.
"Water de horses, sah.'
A bright idea struck me. 1t was q
lovely wooded place, among the foot
hills OF the mountains. | would 90 into
the woods and change my clothes. So
taking shirt and full suit of clothes
from my trunk, | went into toilet The
driver grinned when he saw me taking
the garments from my trunk The wind
roared in the tops of the towering pines,
odors Of wild flowers greeted my senses
and if ever birds rioted in song it was
there. The last years leaves lay deep
on the ground, but everywhere the tufts
of wild grass were struggling through,
and with starry blossoms the weeds
Haunted their green spray, whereon the
linnets swung and twittered.
| had just got on my pants and shirt
and was buttoning on my collar.
"Whoa! no ! sir"
1t was sweet, low voice, | looked
up. Before me, mounted on a beautiful
coal black pony, sat the very queen tai
ry of the woods. She blushed red and
tugged at her little steed's reins, but the
animal seemed to be fascinated and
stood gazing wildly at my plug hat
which sat beside my boots rod from
me. He arched his fat neck aud puf1cd
the breath loudly from his clear nostris.
My cast off shirt and outer garments lay
spread on the ground where | had let
them fall. | felt and no doubt looked
Presently the horse became
manageable and obeying the tiny gloved
hand Of his pretty rider, turned and dis
in the depths of the grove.
As | proceeded to finish dressing my
self, some of the sweet conceits of the
old poets got into my head, and Won
dered from what blessed tree this pref
ty sylvan goddess had emerged, ready
The wind and the birds sang
in chorus.
At length was again in the car
riage and ere long | looked out and saw,
crowning a considerable eminence, the
Did brick mansion of Horace Naylor,
al among the fruit orchards and fanci-
fully clipped shade trees. My old friend
met me on the piazza and taking both
my hands begged my pardon for not
coming in person to meet me at the sta
ion, but he was suffering from the