Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-08-23


is one of the birds that should be made t.
sing, but how, the old adage doth not ex
plain. 1t is thrill of exquisite melody
| A few squirrels stare at you with beady
eyes, and chatter. Will they be able tc
remember when game laws expire? The
trees cast translucent shadows, now purple
now silvery, now touched up with pale
gold-tints that would madden an artist.
"We might be in the woods at Lake
| George" says Nan, "it is all so solemnly
still, SO weirdly beautiful! And in an
hours time we could be in New York
sauandering our money-do you realize
that?"
'Don't," entreats the scribe
THE BEAUTIES OF THE WOODS
We go home laden with wild flowers
Groat spikes of Solomonrs Seal in waxen
| snowiness, and the pinkish lilac wild
geranium with its silken soft leaves. We
hunt up few belated violets, and oh! here
are wild roses in their virginia. time, just
unfolding. Great clusters of honey lucust
shake out their sweetness. All, what
trophies! The house is perfumed with
them.
After dinner we settle ourselves in the
most spacious of bammocks with high ends
full of cushions, Slated and mattrassed SO
you do not sag in the middle. The scribe
turns poetical and scribbles on the cover
OF her book. There is the luxury of drows-
ing with not fly to crawl over you, not an
insect to mar your peace. On this ex-
qulslte stiffness comes Il crushing, rumbling
sound. Nan springs out and flies to the
window
"What is it?" asks the scribe. Once
there was the rumble OF an earthquake
even here.
ga wagon is going past There must
surely be riot in the town.
We consider the painful possibility.
NEW JERSEYS OLD COPPER MINE
The patriarch takes us out driving with
his gentle Betty. We visit the ruins of the
old copper works. Certainly a ruin is not
to be had everywhere. Here are the black
ened and weather-beaten print works,
burned long ago. Second river runs blithely
along, purling over its very pebbly bottom
On the other shore there is hum of bust
ness, iron and steel works, but we leave
them behind and meander through country
ways. Here and there magnificent old
tree, some faded old houses that were once
red. Fields of corn, of oats and rye. We
alight at the quaint little mushroom sta
tion called Soho and sit on the bench built
around great tree with the thatch over our
heads, and half persuade ourselves we are
waiting to go to Greenwood Lake. The
train goes by without us. We take Bloom
field and Montclair instead. What wealth
of pretty houses and gardens, of stately
houses set on dainty hills and emerald lawns
and foliage beds! But it is sweet to come
back to our own wild roses.
From our own observatory we take ex-
tensive views. The Passaic threads its way
in and out. That hive of industry below is
Newark. Those long brick rows and that
immensely high chimney belong to the
thread works. There is q vague, half-hid-
den bridge over which cars are winding.
THE HOME OF PHIL KARNEY.
That suggestive mansion peeping out from
the trees was the home of a brave soldier
and his beautiful wife. When the alarum
sounded, dashing, impetuous Phil Karney,
with one empty coat sleeve, went to his
country's defense as bravely as many man
with two good arms. When the glad notes
of peace sounded he had gone over to the
great, silent majority. There were heroes
in those days, more than quarter of q cent
ury ago.
This rural inviting place is the Soldiers
Home This high picturesque bluff with
the end of a bridge is Arlington. Over yon-
der are wooded hills and farming lands.
Here is great level-the field of the cloth .
of gold. The wind makes great billows
across it, and ere long the sickle will de-
spoil it. You see Newark bay, Trinity
Church, Brooklyn bridge, and, with glass,
Staten Island and the Narrows Turning
westward the long range of blush verdure-
covered hills rise higher and higher, a spur
of the long mountain range extending from
Georgia to Maine. And up among their
northern peaks you may find as queer,
strongly marked people as Charles Egbert
Craddock found in the Tennessee Mountains.
living among slate, limestone and iron
mines.
THE PLEASURES OF FARMING.
Opposite our House Comfortable is a
great clover field such as one rarely sees in
these degenerate days. so says the Patriarch.
All, the sweetness of its purplish pink and
crimson bloom. Here and there a handful
of daisies in gold and white coquet with the
great clover heads. One afternoon there is
the sound of the mower whetting his scythe,
the long swish, swish! We do not look on
to see the array of blossomy people 90 to
their doom Our hearts would break. When
the dew begins to fall we are stepped in fra
GRANGE. Our very pillows are drenched |
with it. All, will it pay for to-morrow's |
stubble?
we go out to see oats cradled in the old |
way of 60 years agone. And here |
is his square of buckwheat bloom, swarm |
ing with bees. The clusters of white on |
the red stems would do credit to a bit of |
painting. We have sheaves of oats nod |
ding goldenly, and there are the little hay
cocks, monuments of former beauty. And |
now it is wild roses. We bring them |
home in all their silken soft delicaey.
Palest pink, large transparent, deeper pink,
arrest roses, and such baby buds that oaen
With smile in the bowls and jugs of water.
All, what hand ever does their delicate
beauty justice!
BOATING ON THE RIVER.
The party widens out. One friend from
Yale, an athlete and oarsman, drops down
Ipon us, and we are inducted into the mys-
ery of shells and skiffs and canoes and
,ulls and strokes. We go down to the
'retty boathouse at Woodside, and sitting
N the grassy banks watch the strife
CHOW q man dares to trust himself in that |
arrow brown line with the merest little well
or his body is a mystery to me" says the
cribe.
But we all row in the twilight, or float by
hady suggestive banks. The midsummer !
fragrance is deeper, richer, with favors of
rowing fruit, the silking out of corn, the
utty odors of balsams, the pungency of
lid grape.
1t is early evening when we resume our (
oat. The sky is all a fare of crimson
elbow, then pinky gold, then ell the grays
nd lavenders, pale, green and blue,
,ft dun haze, coming to almost tint I
.ss space, then kindling again '
18th the blues A suggestive darkness !
titles along the brooks and inlets. The !
oon comes up over to the eastward. Even, '
lr Bar Harbor friend admits it is a d