The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-03-19

There is something about an old
fashioned fireplace that takes body
~ the hand without waiting for an in
Goduct.on. 1t don't keep man stand
ing ont In the hall till his nails turn
blue, and he signs q regret that he
didn't bring his ear-muffs along; but
before he can tell how it is done, it has
made him feel right at home, and is
communing with him like an old friend
with whom he hopes never to part
again. 1t puts him in the best chair
and is on the way to the cellar for cider
before he can get his hat off. And as
he sits there rubbing his hands with an
ecstatic sort of feeling to which no
word In our language can give full ex-
preston, he feels like giving the
bulk of his property to the poor before
he has been there two minutes. 1t
warns him up with glow that makes
him feel benevolent from his teeth to
his toe-nails; quickens up his blood till
he almost feels his hair grow, and takes
away the fear OF death, or gives fasci-
nation to fire, which amounts to about
the same thing. 1t matters nothing to
him how cold it is outside; in fact, the
colder the better, for the more cheer it
gives to the vault of fame before him,
and at that moment it wouldn't make
him vince to know that every pipe In
town was frozen Up ever so much
tighter than the times, unless he was a
plumber; but, bless your soul, q
plumber never gets time to go
near O fire, except to melt his
solder, if he happens to get
started on a job before cold weather
sets in. The old-fashioned fireplace,
with its wide jambs, to take In logs
bigger than half-grown boy; its high
mantel, with dish of apples on one
end, a pitcher of cider on the other,
and = painful of nuts in the middle,
while lire. like dream of love, roars
and crackles,. and sputters and pops,
just back of the glowing hearth, on
which stands the dutch-oven throwing
out the suggestion of mince pie, that
seems the very quintessence OF tooth
some cookery every time tho lid is
raised, to say nothing of the smell of
Joy to famine that comes from the
mammoth caldron swinging on the
crane, and just fairly begging OF you
to drop In some time when you are
hungry. Is there anything in cast
iron that can throw out rapture like
this? Will nickel-plated trimmings do
it, or bring heaven down the chimney
equal to it? Can dark, bleak hole
In the fioor-no matter how it may try
to scorch and smother you-crowd
your home with sunshine on a cloudy
day, and make you feel as rich as a
pork-packer, when you may in reality be
swamped in debt up to your eye
brows? Can gridiron stack of steam
pipe in one corner of the room fill your
home with the joyous music of child
hood? Can it renew your youth and
make sweet cider taste like gin hun
dred years old? Can it carrytyou back
to the good old days when you could
get barrel of -four for SO, and wear
your wedding suit thirty years for
genteel use? Can any of these things
take the rheumatism out of mans legs,
and make him feel like dancing horn
pipe even on Sunday? Can they bring
back his hair, restore failing eyesight,
or put teeth in his mouth equal to any
emergency? Can they quicken up his
imagination, and make him tell yarns
about the good old times when he
shouldered saw-log and made himself
bow-legged for life, and other stories
of similar import, that no one under
forty will believe? Indeed they can
not, and nothing short of an old-fash-
toned fireplace on a cold day can do it.
Chicago Ledger.