Year: 1868

10 tne Edator OF the Press:


The real centre of farm life is not the Chin
ney corner, or any part of the house; it is the
barn. There the farmer sees around him the
aids, the implements and the products of his
calling-his animals, his tools, and his stored
up crops. There his work is planned, there
his bargains are made, and there his gains
are reckoned up. In his barn the farmer is
is like Rob Roy when his foot pressed the
heather-he is at home. For my part have
always had liking for barns. Not, beg the
reader to understand, those big, modern-built,
important looking structures where one may
see all the latest improvements from the stone
foundation to the ventilating cupola topped
with its smart gilt weather-vane. None of
these costly model barns for me. They may
be, and doubtless are admirable, from busi-
ness point OF view; they bespeak thrift in
their owners and comfort for his stock; but
then vagabond cannot be expec. ed to see
things in that light. Did you ever know an
artist to put enc Of them in his picture2 He
would as soon make drawing of telegraph
pole. No; the barns in which take delight
are of different pattern. They are not new /;
they are not smart. Their walls are guiltless
of clapboards or Of paint; and there are chinks
that let the wind in rather freely, but they
let in the sunshine too. These have an easy,
comfortable look about them that fits my
lazy humor as an old shoe fits weary foot
Pleasant memories, too, are hid away IN their
dusty corners. In my childish days / have
spent hours at time, either, with ny broth
ers, tumbling on the haymows and climbing
over loose poles and crazy scaffolds in search
ofslyly hidden hens nests, or alone, lying on
the sweet old hay that Uttered the upper
floor, gazing out through the unglazed win
dow at the square of deep blue summer sky,
and dreaming Of all the u1utterable things
that crowd the brain of childhood.


Into one of these old barns this hot July
morning my vagrant feet are irresistibly
drawn. The open doors have invitation in
them. Wonderful doors they are,-grea.
double valves, swinging outward over an in
clined plane of planks. 1 remember used
to think that the gates Of GAIA, carried of
by Samson, had been constructed on the
same plan. Within, tine great floor is clean
ly swept, but slippery with the scattered
seeds OF the hay. A few sober hens walk in
and out with grave reflective air; and
somewhere overhead one of their kind is
making tremendous cackling all about an
egg, as if in all the time since the world was
made no such egg had ever been laid before.
On one side is the mow now filled to the lev
ell of the first great beams with the fragrant
fresh-gathered hay. On the other hand are
the stalls, where, if it were little later in
the season you might see the broad-horned
heads of placid looking cows and Juno eyed
oxen; but now they stand empty night and
day, for in the summer nights the b.vouac OF
the cattle is kept under the open sky. Only
an old wall-eyed horse in the farthest stall
stands munching his clover, and looking
sleepy enough to be the very genius o.
place. The warm sunshine steals in through
the long shingles of the roof as if looking af
ter the clover and the red-top it has been
ripening all these golden days and the sweet
south wind creeping in at the wide doors
scarcely stirs the loose hay. Everything is
I


so still and dreamy, so full of repose, that


might have been here hundred years for
any sharp suggestion to the contrary.


At this point OF my scribblings yielded to


the drowsy influences around me, and fell


asleep, and it was only particularly SHARP


suggestion" in the shape OF vivid flash O.


l;ohtn,ng and the heavy roll of thunder which
| recalled me 10 the actualties OF life. l gain


ed the house with all proper speed, and from


its safe shelter have been watching the race


between the swift-coming shower and the


hay-makers, in a neighboriDg field Two


large loads in perfect condition were spread


out on the ground when the clouds appear


ed, bu. it was all in before the first drops fell
It has been glorious shower. l listened tc


the pleasant rilling of the water from ths


eaye-spout into the hogshead back of thu


house, and rather hoped it would rain al


night, so that might have the pleasure o