The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1880-04-15
The Old Barn.

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all pervading fragrance of the sweet
scented hay and was ever an interior
SC truly picturesque, so full of quiet har
monyl
The lofty haymows piled nearly to the
roof, the 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 vividlv, how
lovingly [ recall each one
In those snow-bound days, when the
white flakes shut in the earth down
deep beneath, and the drifts INSTRUCTED
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 all, when the little district
school house upon the hill stood in
an impossible sea 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 and frolicked in the hay, now
stopping quietly to listen to the tiny
squeak of some rustling mouse near by,
or 1t 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 hundred ways we
passed the heeting hours
The general features Of New En-
gland barns are all alike The barn
that We remember is a garner full of
treasure sweet as new -mown hav. 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 perfumed 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 vet 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
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 ravelnrs nf
Did you 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
chinking soft on the broken sheaf, now
loud and clear on the sounding boards
Upon the roof above We see the cooins
doves, with nodding heads and necks
cleaning with iredescent sheen. Turn
ing another corner we.look upon mis-
celaneous 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 but speak, how sweet a story 1t
could tell of lovely drives through ro-
mantle glens and msonlit 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
-I'll say no more-these are memories
too sacred for the common ear.-W. II.
Gibson, in Harper's Magazine for
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