The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1880-02-27
The Old Barn.

Was ever perfume sweeter than that
all-pervading fragrance of the sweet
scented hay? and was ever an interior
so truly picturesque, so full OF quiet
harmony?
The lofty haymows piled nearly to
the roof, the Jagged ax-notched beams
overhung with cobwebs fiecked with
dust of hay-seed, with perhaps downy
feather here and there. The rude,
quaint hen boxes, with the lone nest
egg, in little hooks and corners. How
wildly, how lovingly, l recall each one |!
In those snowbound days, when the
white flakes shut III the earth down
deep beneath, and the drifts INSTRUCTED
the highways, and we heard the noisy
transfers, with snap OF whip and ex-
citing shouts, urge their straining oxen
through the solid barricades when all
the fences and stone walls were almost
lost to sight in the universal avalanche !;
and, best of all, when the little district
school-house upon the hill stood In an
impossible sea of snow-then we as
sembled in the old barn to play, sought
out every hidden corner in our game of
hide-and- or jumped and frolicked
i'll the hay, now stopping quietly to
listen to the tiny squeak of some
rustling mouse near by, or it may be
creeping cautiously to the little hole up
near the caves in search of the big
eyed owl we once caught mapping there.
In hundred ways We passed the fleet
ing hours.
The general features of New England
barns are all alike. The barn that we
remember is a garner full of treasure
sweet as new-mown hay. You remem-
Der the great broad double doors, which
made their sweeping circuit in the
snow; the ruddy pumpkins, piled up in
the corner near the bins, and the visit
full whinny of the old farmhouse as
with pricked-up ears and eager pull of
chain he urged your prompt attention
to your chores; the COWS, too, in the
manger stalls-how sweet their per-
fumed breath Outside the corn-crib
stands, its golden stores cleaning
through the open laths, and the oxen,
reaching with tapping, upturned
tongues, yearn for the tempting feast,
$50 near and yet so far" The party
colored hens group themselves in rich
contrast against the sunny boards of the
weather-beaten shed, and the ducks
and geese, with rafting croak and
husky hiss and quick vibrating tails
chat strange contagion), waddle across
the slushy snow, and sail out upon the
barn. yard pond. Here is the pile of
husks from whose bleached and rust
ling sheaths you picked the little ravel-
ings CT brown for your corn-silk ciga-
rettes. Did ever pure Havana" taste
as sweet?
Near by we see the barracks stored
with yellow sheaves of wheat. Soon
we shall hear the intermittent music of
the beating fail on the old barn floor,
now thinking soft on the broken sheaf,
now loud and clear on the sounding
boards. Upon the roof above we see
the cooling doves, with nodding heads
and necks cleaning with irldescent
sheen. Turning, in another corner we
look upon a miscellaneous group of
plows and rakes and all the farm uter-
sils, and harness hanging on the wood
en- pegs. There, too, is the little sleigh
we love so well. Could it but speak,
how sweet story it could tell of lovely
drives through romantic glens and
moon-lit woods, of tender squeezes of
the little hand beneath the covering
robe, of whispered VOWS, and of the
encircling arm-a shelter from the cold
and cruel windl But no-I'll say TO
more; these are memories too sacred
for the common ear.-W. II. Gibson, IN
Harper's Magazine