The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1882-02-16

CdilICl ll1C Utcu SdCTluCtu W CTdu6. al
t was grimy with paper-making. Blu
r this did not affect our pleasure in
so much as have known it to affec
t other streams. Perhaps our waite
: was more rapid-perhaps less clogge
| with dirt and refuse. Our side of tn
: dell was charmingly accidente, an
!. clothed with fine trees, through
7 which various paths wound down t.
the riverside and to the village bridg
; which crossed the stream. The vii
2 lage lay in the hollow, and climbed
with very prosaic houses, the othe
5 side. Village architecture does no
: flourish in Scotland. The blue slate
and the gray stone are sworn foes t,
the picturesque; and though do not
for my own part, dislike the interio
OF an old-fashioned pewed and gal
leried church, with it's little family
settlements on all sides, the square
box outside, with bit of a spire like
handle to lift it by, is not an inn
provement to the landscape. Still {
cluster of houses on differing eleva
tions, with SC APPS of garden coming
between, a hedgerow with clothes laic
out to dry, the opening Of a street
with its rural sociability, the women
at their doo4s, the slow wagon lumber
ing along-gives centre to the land
scape. 1t was cheerful to look at,
and convenient in a hundred ways.
Within ourselves we had walks in
plenty, the glen being always beau
tiful in all its phases, whether the
woods were green in the spring or
ruddy in the autumn. In the park
which surrounded the house were the
ruins of the former mansion of Brent
wood, much smaller and less impor-
tant house than the solid Georgian
edifiee which we inhabited. The ruins
were picturesque, however. and gave
Importance to the place Even we,
who were but temporary tenants, felt
a vague pride in them, as if they
somehow reflected certain conse-
quence upon ourselves. The old
building had the remains Of tower.
an indistinguishable mass of mason
work, overgrown with ivy. and the
shells of walls attached to this were
half filled up with soil I had never
examined it closely. am ashamed to
say. There was a large room, or what
had been large room, with the lower
part of the windows still exist
ing on thep rincipal floor, and
underneath other windows, which
were perfect, though half filled up
with fallen soil, and waving with
wild growth Of brambles and chance
growths Of all kinds. This was the
eldest part of all. At little distance
were some very commonplace and dis
jointed fragments Of building, one of
them suggesting certain pathos by
its very commonness, and the COM
plete wreck which it showed. This
was the end of low gable, bit of
gray wall, all encrusted with the lich-
ems, in which was common door
way. Probably it had been servants
entrance, back door, or opening into
what are called "the Offices" in Scot
land No Offices remained to be en-
tered-pantry and kitchen had all
been swept out of being; but there
stood the doorway open and vacant,
free to all the winds, to the rabbits,
and every wild creature. 1t struck
my eye, the first time went to Brent
wood like melancholy comment upon
a life that was over. A door that led |
to nothing-closed once, perhaps, with
anxious care. bolted and guarded, now
void Of any meaning. 1t impressed
me, | remember. from the first; 80
perhaps it may be said that my mind
was prepared to attach to it an impor-
tance which nothing justified.
The summer was very happy pc
riod of repose for us ALL The warmth
of Indian suns was still in our veins,
and we did not feel the cold. It
seemed to US that we could never have
enough Of the greenness, the dewiness,
the freshness of the northern land
scape. Even its mists were pleasant
to us, taking all the fervor out of us,
and pouring in vigor and refreshment.
In autumn we followed the fashion
Of the time. and went away for change,
which we did not in the least require.
It was when the family had settled
Down for the winter, when the days
we're short and dark, and the vigorous
reign of frost upon us. that the incl
lents occurred which alone could
Justify me in intruding upon the
world my private affairs. These incl
lents were, however, of so curious
that | may hope my newt
able references to my own family and
pressing personal interests will meet
with a general pardon.
l was absent in London when these
events began. In London an old In
lian plunges back into the interests
with which all his previous life has
been associated and meets old friends
1T every step. | had been circulating
among some half dozen of these
ENJOYING the return to my former life
n shadow, though | had been so
thankful in substance to throw it aside
and had missed some Of my home
etters, what with going down from
Friday to Monday to old Benbow's
olace in the country, and stopping on
he way back to dine and sleep at
5ellar's, statles, which occupied an
,ther day. 1t is never safe to miss
,ne's letters. In this transitory life,
is the prayer-book says, how can one
,ver be certain what is going to hap
1en? All was perfectly well at home.
knew very well q thought what
hey would have to say to me: ''The
weather has been so fine, that Roland
mas not once gone by train, and he
,nioys the ride beyond anything"
Dear papa, be sure that you don't
forget anything, but bring US so-and-
80, and so-and-so'-a list as long as
ny arm. Dear girls and dearer mother!
would not for the world have for
gotten their commissions, or given the