, 1880-04-15
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 har-
mony1
The lofty haymows piled nearly to the
roof, tho jagged axe notched beams over.
hung with cobwebs fecked with dust OF
hay seed, with perhaps a downy feather
here and there. The rude, quaint hen
boxes, with the lone nest egg in little
hooks and corners. How viyidly, how
lovingly recall each one a
In those snow-bound days, when the
white flakes shut in the earth down
deep beneath, and the drifts obstructed
the highways, and we heard the noisy
teamsters, with snap OF whip and ex-
citing shouts, urge their straining oxen
through the solid barricade !; when all
the fences and stone walls were almost
lost to sight in the universal avalanche ;
and, best of oil, when the little district
school house upon the hill stood in
an impossible seq of snow-then
we assembled in the old barn to
play, sought out every. hidden
corner in our game of hide.and-seek, or
jumped ald frolicked in 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 nap
ping there. In a hundred ways we
passed the feeting hours.
The general features Of New En-
gland barns are all alike. The barn
that we remember is garner full of
treasure sweet as new-mown hay You
remember 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 wistful
whinny of the old farm horse as with
pricked-up ear and eager pull OF chain
he urged your prompt attention to your
chores; the COWS, too, in the manger
stall-how sweet their perfumcd 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 tempt
ing 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 rattling croak
and husky hiss and quick vibrating tails
(that 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 rustling
sheaths you picked the little ravelings of
brown for your corn.silk cigarettes
Did you ever "pure Havana" taste as
sweetl
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
chinking 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 iredescent sheen. Tuln-
ing another corner we,look upon mis-
celIaneous group of ploughs and rakes
and all the farm utensils, and harness
hanging on the wooden pegs There,
too, is the little sleigh we love so well.
Could it hut speak, how sweet a story it
could tell Of lovely drives through ro-
mantle glcns and meonlit woods, of ten.
der squeezes of the little hand beneath
the covering robes, of whispered vows,
and OF the encircling arm-a shelter
from the cold and cruel wind But no
III say no moro--these are memories
too sacred for the common ear. W. H.
Gibson, in llarpcrs Magazine for
Naroh