• ;
, .„•,, -
.. 4 1 k
•-•
- •
<-7 .
• 4).;"
.
. _ . ••
•
_ . .
. •
. . .
_ .
•
SAMUEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER. 23.]
I.DUBLISIIED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
' , Vac in Northern antral Railroad Com
prtwes Buildiny,north-teestcorner Front and
4fralnut streets.
Terms of Subscription
%Ma Copy per annum, if paid in advance,
.44 4. if not paid within three
itnotobs from COllllllellCl,lllClllOf the year, 2 00
9. Coats ex Copy.
No subscription received for a less iliac than six
tit twilit's; and no paper w•dl be di.continued until all
xnrrearages are paid, untes.s at the option of the pub
avtiser.
Ir7llloney may be remitted by mail at the publish
cr's risk.
Rates of Advertising.
square [6 line') one week,
three weeks,
42 each subsequent insertion, 10
1 " [l.2iinesj one week, 511
three weeks, l 00
each subsequent insertion, 23
Larger advertisementa in proportion.
A liberal digeount will be made to quarterly, half
yearly or yearlyadvertisers,who are rtrietlyeonfined
to their in.lllE9O.
Drs. John & Rohrer,
ITAVE associated in the Practice or Idedi-
Columbia, April lut.lSsCi-lf
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
DENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above
the Odd Fellows' Hull, Columbia, Pa.
Columbia. May 3. ISM.
11. M. NOIITII,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
Columbia, Pa.
Collections, promptly made, in Lancaster and York
Counties.
Columbia. May 4,1950.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
Ccp11.3. - xmllodize.,
Columbia, September I i•tf
GEORGE J. Slllll'll,
WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Bakm.—Constuntly on hand n variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention' Crackers; Sodu, Wine. Stroll.
and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description,
t6c. LOCUST STU IZET,
Feb. Between the Sunk and Franklin 1 louse.
CORN Starch, Farina, Rice Flour, Tapioca,
Sago, Out Meal, Arrow font. kr . nt the
FAMILY 111E,DICINE ciTORF,
Odd Fellow.? Hull.
Sept _a,+s7.
JUST received, three dozen Dr. Brunon's
Vegetable Miters, a certain cure for Dyspepsia:
also, a fresh lot of Sap Sago oral Film Apple Cheese,
Farina and Cora Starch, ut 1) 11E1112'S
Sept 5, 1i457. Grocery and Liquor Store.
HAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Egyptian hair dyes, a err:toted to color the hair
any desired shade, without injury to the shin. For sale
by it WI I.LIA
May 10, Front bt., Columbia, Pa.
•
JLIST received, a fresh supply of Kennedy's
\ledicul Dthcovery,llllll for .ale. by
R WILMA:NIS, Front street.
Columbiß. Juste, 27, 1f.57.
BROIVPi'S Essence of Jamaica Ginger, Gen
uine Article. For rale at
ItIeCORKLE do DFI.f.ETT'S
Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellows'
Joly 25, 1557.
QOLUTION OF WRATH OF MAGNESIA,or Pur
i, dative Mineral lValer.—TlO, pleasant itiedie lie
which is highly recommended as a substitute for
Epsom tralta.:Seidlitz Powdera, tee.. can Ire ohh t i,,, .1
fresh every day at Da. E. R. I.IF:ItIt'S Drug Store.
Front at. (12
TUST received, a fresh supply of Corn
tr Starch, Farina, nod Dice F100r.,,
111 eCO & D ELLETT'S
Amity Medicine Store, Odd Fellowe' Dull, Columbia
Columbia.
_May 30, ISM.
AMPS,
4 LAMPS, LAMPS. Jost received at
llerr'it Drug Store, a new and beautiful lot ot
Lampe of all deieriptionit.
May 2.1257.
A LOT of Fresh Vanilla Beans, at Dr. B B.
Herr'n t:oldru Mortar Drug Store.
Colombia. Muy 1.1e57.
ASUPERIOR article of burning Fluid just
received and Inr rule by II SUN' I) M&M IN
ALARCH lot of City cured Dried Beef, just
MPelvwl Pl II b.,l' PAM & SON'S.
Columbia December :M. IS:ra.
.1100FLAND'S Grmßittejo)7l! at f ec m ci, lt r
i ,
Family Medteitte Store, Odd Fellows' MM.
July 25.
fOUNTRY Produce constantly on hand an d
for fair by U. SU 7D & SON
TTOMINY, Cranberries, Raisins, Figs, Alm•
owls. Walnut., Cream Nut ,, . he . jo+l received
11. 61.7YE1/04 &
Columbia. Dec. 20. 1 a.%
A SUPERIOR lot of Black and Green Teas,
coxee mid choroime, just received vi
It .VYDAM h 440:0,
Cartier arrow 81111 Union .14.
Dee. 20.1R50
JUST RECEIVED, a beautiful assortment of
ula63 Ink Stands, of the Ileutlquarterts and
Nears Depot.
Cottumboo. AI
ril IR 1857.
'PURA Family and Superfine Four of the
...Ijl hest brand, for sole by II SUYD.% A. SUN.
T DST received 1000 lbs. extra double bolted
Buckwheat Meal, ut
Dec.2o. IRS& If. SUYDAM . &
WEIKEL'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking
Pounder. for .lle by D. SUYDAM & SON.
VAIIII, & T110:11PSON'S justly celebrated Com
mercial and other Gold l'ent , —the heel in the
market—italld received. P. SHREINER.
Columbia, A pril .1145.5.
WHITE GOODS.--11 full line of While Dress
Goals of every description. just received. nt
July LI, 1857. FONDENSMITIrS.
WHY should any person do without a Clock,
when they can be hail rorsl.soand biwritrth.
811REINER'S?
Columbia. Arri 12.9.185.;
,QAPONEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, for ma
.L.l king Soap. I lb. is aufficient for one beard of
g°3 Soap, or Ilb.for 9 lbs. Hard Snap. Full direr
, tions will be given at the Counter fur making Soft,
gi4ard and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
R. WI LLIA
rgolumbia. March 31. 1555.
irw. GRAM'S ELECTRIC OIL. Ju , t reeeivel.
slf Utah supply 'Attain popular remedy. and for *ate
R WI LLI ASIS.
Front Street, Columina. Pa.
Maylo,lB3o,
' . "l"'l7rine"ofl°P 7 :ntt!T;;'l'g'"'A...i7,fonleutlLO;%.;Fll.
Morell 12.1237. No. L. !legit greet.
ANEW lot of WHALE AND CAR GREASING
OILS, received at the , 'tore
May 10.1 Ftsa
fi DOZEN 1311.00N15, 10XErt CHEFSE. For
IZ, I) bale clump, by 13. F. APPOLD /IF. CO.
Columbia, October 2.3,
A SUPERIOR article or l'AlNl; t oZt. ii fo i r u i . A, i7 by
Profit Street, Columbia,
May 10, 11.E5G.
JUSTJaeand well relerirrl variety
RECHI VIM. a lar ge
orßrualles. conoleting in part orShoe. Mtg., Cloth,
Crumb, Nail, Hat and Teeth Bru•bra, aud fa r r a l e by
It. WILLIAMS.
Front street Cottle - 114e. Pe.
E ri =I
A --
:41PERIOR article of TONIC S PIC I?. BITTERS.
suitable for Hotel Keepers, for sole by
R. WILLIAMS.
Front street. colombin.
May 10.1 SW
MIRKSH ETHEREAL OM, alway. on hand. and or
"RIC by R. WiLLIAItIS.
May 10,1856. Front Street, Colombo., Pa.
TUSTreceivell,l4l,EBl,l CA NI,,PH P.N FL and (or !Ilia
a/ by %til LI.dA MS.
May 10, 1850. From Street, Columbia, Pa.
1 000 N e er ve 2
aa ur ri e d d fo C r t i l e lt i nna r and Shoulders
„Feb. 21, ?SW. 11,SU VDA3I, & SON.
:flatus.
The Closing Scene
E=E=l
DIM
Within the sober realm of leuflesu trees,
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air;
Like sonic tanned reaper in his hour of case,
When all the field arc lying brown and bare
The gray barn, looking from their limy hills,
O'er the dun waters, widening in the vales,
Sent down the air a greeting to the mills,
On the dull thunder of alternate
EMI
All sights were mellowed, and all sounds subdued,
The hills seemed farther, and the streams sung low;
As in n ammo, the distant woodman hewed
Ills winter log with many a muffled blow.
The embattled forests, erewhile, armed in gold,
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood, like some sad, beaten host of old,
Withdrawn afar in times remotest blue,
On slumber's wings the vulture tried his flight;
The dove scarce heard his singing mate's complaint,
And like a star, blow drowning in the light,
The village church vane seemed to pule and faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hill side crew—
Crew thrice, and all was stiller ihßllbefore
Silent till some replying warder blew
Ills alien horn, and then was heard no more.
NVhere erst the jay within the elm's mil crest
Made garrulous trouble round her unfledg'd young;
And where the oriole Ming her swaying nest, •
Hy every light wind like a censer swung;
Where sang the noisy martens of the caves,
The busy swallows circling ever near;
Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes,
An curly harvest and a plenteous yeuri—
Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast,
Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at morn,
To warn the reapers of the rosy ensk—
All now was songless, empty and forlorn.
Alone, from out the stubble, piped the quail,
And croaked the crow through all the dreamy gloom;
Alone the pheasant. drumming in the vale,
Made echo to the distant cottage loom.
There was no bud, no bloom upon the bower.;
The spiders wove their thin shrouds night by night;
The thistledown, the only ghost of flowers,
Soiled slowly by—passed noiseless out of sight.
Amid all this—in this most cheerless air,
And where the woodbine shed upon the porch
Its crimson leaves, as if the year stood there,
Firing the floor with his inverted torch;
Amid all this. the centre of the scene,
The ♦rhite haired matron, with monotonous tread,
Plied the swift wheel. natal with her joyless mien,
Sat like a Fate, and watched the II) ing thread.
She !lad known sorrow. lie lied walked with her,
Oft sunned, until broke with her the ashen crust,
Aud in the dead leaves still She beard the stir
Of Lie black mantle trailing 111 the dust.
While yet her cheek was bright with slimmer bloom,
tier country SIIIIIIIIOIICd, and she gave her all,
And twice war bowed to her los sable plume—
Etc-gave the swords to rust upon the wall.
Re-gave the sword.—but not the hand that drew
And struck for liberty the dying blow;
or him, ho to hi.. sire and country Iruc,
Fell 'mid the mulls of the invading fue.
Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on,
Li Ite the low murmur of the lave nt noon;
Long. but 1301 Mud, the memory of the gone
lltenthed through her lips, n sad and tremulous tune
At Inct the thread wn• snapped—her heal WWI bowed,
Life dropped the dottoiTthrough her hands serene;
And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud,
While Death and Winter closed the :ultimo scene.
Too Late.
•Douglass, Douglass, tender and true !!—O/t/ Ballad
Could ye come bark to rue, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would he so faithful, Co loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true!
Never a scornful word should pain ye•
I'd smile as sweet as the angels do;
Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
Old to call back the days that arc not!
My eye. were blinded, your words were few;
Do you know the truth now up in Ileaveirl
Douglas, Douglass, tender and true!
I WRS not half worthy of you, Douginc,
Not half worthy the like of you!
Now• all men beside are to me like shadows,
I love you, Douglas, tender and true!
Stretch out your band to me, Douglas. Douglas,
Drop forgiveness front Heaven lake dew;
As I lay my heath on your dead heart, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender laud true!
gliEttitrlts.
Turkey Tracks
Don't open your eyes, Polder! You think
I am going to tell you about some of my
Minnesota experiences; how I used to scam
per over the prairies on my Indian poney,
and lie in wait for wild turkeys on the edge
of an oak opening. That is pretty sport,
too, to creep under an oak with low-hang
ing boughs, and in the silence of a glowing
autumn day linger by the hour together in
a trance of warm stillness, watching the
light tracery of shadow and sun on that
smooth sward, only now and then roused
by the fleet rush of the deer through the
wood, or the brisk chatter of a plume-tailed
squirrel, till one hears a distant, sharp, cluck
ing chuckle, and in an instant more pulls
the trigger, and upsets a grand old cock,
every bronzed feather glittering in the sun
shine, and now splashed with scarlet blood,
the delicate under-wing ground into down
as lie rolls and flutters; for the first shot
rarely kills at once with an amateur; there
is too much excitement. Splendid sport,
that! but I'm not going into it second-hand.
I promised to tell you a story, now the skip
per's fast, and the night is too warm to
think of sleep down in that wretched bunk;
—what another torture Dante might have
lavished on his Inferno, if he'd ever slept in
a fishing-smack! No. The moonlight makes
me sentimental! Did I ever tell you about
a mouth I spent up in Centreville, the year
I came home from Germany? That was
turkey-hunting with a vengeance!
You see, my pretty cousin Peggy mar
ried Peter Smith, who owns paper-mills in
Centreville, and has exiled herself into deep
country for life; a circumstance I disapprove,
From The Atlantic Monthly
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 12, 1857
because I like Peggy, and manufacturers
always bore me, though Peter is a clever
fellow enough; but madam was an old flame
of mine, and I have a lingeringtenderness for
her yet. I wish she was near town. Just
that year Peggy had been very ill indeed;
and Kate, her sister, had gone up to nurse
her When I came home Peggy was getting
better, and sent for me to come up and make
a visitation there in June. I hadn't seen
Kato for seven years,—not since she was
thirteen; our education intervened. She
had gone through that grading process and
come out. By Jupiter! when she met me at
the door of Smith's pretty, English-looking
cottage, I took my hat off, she was so like
that little Brazilian princess we used to see
in the cortege of the court at Paris. What
was her name? Never mind that! Kate
had just such large, expressive eyes, just
such masses of shining black hair, just such
a little nose,—turned up undeniably, but
all the more piquant. And her teeth! good
gracious! she smiled like a flash of lightning,
—dark and sallow as she was. But she was
cross, or stiff, or something, to me for a long
time. Peggy only appeared after dinner,
looking pale and lovely enough to make Pe
ter act excessively like—a young:married
man, and to make me wish myself at an in
visible distance, doing something beside
picking up Kate's things, that she always
dropped when the sewed. Peggy saw I was
bored, so she requested me to walk down to
the poultry-yard and ask about her chickens;
she pretended a great deal of anxiety, and
Peter had sprained his ankle.
`Kate will go with you,' said she.
'No she won't!' ejaculated that young
MEM
'Thank you,' said I, making a minuet bow,
and off I went to the farm-house. Such a
pretty walk it was, too! through a thicket of
birches, down a little hill-side into a hollow
full of hoary chestnut-trees, across a bub
bling, dancing brook, and you came out up . on
the tiniest orchard in the world, a one-sto
ried house with a red porch, and a great
sweet-briar bush thereby; while up the hill
side behind stretched a high picket fence,
enclosing huge trees, part of the same brook
I had crossed here dammed into a pond, and
a chicken-house of pretentious height and
aspect,—one of those model instititutions
that are the ruin of gentlemen-farmers and
the delight of women. I had to go into
the farm-kitchen for the poultry-yard key.
The door stood open, and I stepped in cau
tiously,
lest I should come unaware upon
some domestic scene not intended. for the
naked eye. And a scene I did come upin,
fit for Retzsli to outline;—the cleanestkitchen,
a dresser of white wood under ono window,
and the farmer's daughter, Melinda Tucker,
moulding bread thereat in a ponderous tray;
her deep red hair,—yes, it was red and corn
ley! of the deepest bay, full of gilded reflec
tions, and accompanied by the fair rose
flushed skin, blue eyes, and scarlet lips that
belong to such hair,—which, as I began to
say, was puckered into a. thousand curves
trying to curl, and knotted strictly against
a pretty head, while her calico frock-sleeves
were pinned back to the shoulders, baring
such a dimpled pair of arms,—how they did
fly up and down in the tray! I stood still con
templating the picture, and presently seeing
her begin to strip the dough from her pink
fingers and mould it into a mass, I ventured
to knock. If you had seen her start and
blush, Polder! But when she saw me, she
she grew as cool as you please, and called
her mothei.. Down came Mrs. Tucker, a
talking Yankee. You don't know what that
is. Listen then.
'Well, good day sir! I'xpect it's Mister
Greene, Miss Smith's cousin. Well, you be!
Don't favor her much though; she's kinder
dark complected. See ha'n't got round yet,
lies she? Dew tell! She's dre'ful delicate.
I do'no' as ever I see a woman so sickly's
she looks to be sence that ere fever. She's
real spry when she's so's to be erawlin',—
Fxpect too spry to be thulsome. Well, he
tells me you've been 'crost the water 'Ta'n't
jest like this over there, I guess. Pretty
sightly places they be though, a'n't they?—
I've seen pictures in Melindy's jography,
looks as of 'twa'n't so woodsy over there
as 'tis in these parts 'specially out West.
Ire's got folks out to Indianny, an' wo sot
out fur to go n-cousin in', five year back,
an' we got out there inter the dre'fullest
woodsy region ever ye see, when 'twa'n't
trees, it was 'sketers; husband ho could'nt
see none out of his eyes for a hull day, and
I thought I should caterpillar every time I
heard ono of em toot; they certainly was the
beater•eel'
'The key if you please!' I meekly inter
posed. Mrs. Tucker was fast stunning me!
'Law yis! Melindy, you go git that 'ere
key; it's a•hangin' up 'side o' the lookin'
glass in the back shed, under that bunch o'
onions father strung up yisterday. Got the
bread set to rise, hey ye? well, git your bon
net an' g 3 out to the coop with Mr. Greene,
'n' show him the turkeys an' the chickens,
'n' tell what dre'ful luck he her hod. I
never did see Bich luck ! the crows they
keep a comin' an' snippin' up the little
creturs jist as soon's they're hatched; an'
the old turkey hen 't sot under the grape
vine she got two hen's eggs under her, 'n'
they come out fust,so she quit-'
Here I bolted out of the door, (a storm
at sea did not deafen one like that!) Mclindy
following, in silence such as our blessed
New England poet has immortalized,—si
lence that
.---like a poultice comes,
To heal the blows of pound.'
Indeed I did not discover that Melindy could
talk that day; she was very silent, very in
communicative. I inspected the fowls, and
tried to look wise, but I saw a strangled
laugh twisting Melindy's face when I inno
cently inquired if she found catnip of much
benefit to the little chickens; a natural ques
tin enough, for the yard was full of it, and
I had seen Hannah give it to the baby.—
(Hannah is my sister.) I could see only two
little turkeys,—both on the floor of the sec
ond-story parlor in the chicken-house, both
flat on their backs and gasping. .Melindy
did not know what ailed them; so I picked
them up, slung them in my pocket-handker
chief, and took them home for Peggy to
manipulate. I beard Melindy chuckle as I
walked off, swinging them; and to be sure,
when I brought the creatures in to Peggy,
one of them kicked and lay still, and the
other gasped worse than ever.
'What can we do?' asked Peggy, in the
most plaintive voice, as the feeble 'week!
week!' of the little turkey was gasped out,
more feebly every time.
'Give it sonic whiskey-punch!' growled
Peter, whose strict temperance principles
were shocked by the remedies prescribed
for Peggy's ague.
'So I would,' said Kate, demurely.
Now if Peggy had one trait more striking
than another, it was her perfect, simple
faith in what people said; irony was a mys
tery to her; lying, a rnyth,—something on
a par with murder. She thought Kate
meant so; and reaching out for the pretty
wicker-flask that contained her daily ration
of old Scotch whiskey, she dropped a little
into a spoon; diluted it with water, and
was going togive it to the turkey in all serious
ness, when Kate exclaimed,—
'Peggy! when will you learn common
sense? Who ever heard of giving whiskey
to a turkey?'
'Why, you told Inc tog Kate!'
'Oh, give it to the thine growled Peter;
'it will die, of course!'
'I shall give it!' said Peggy, resolutely;
'it does me good, and I will try.'
So I held the little creature up, while
Peggy tipped the doge down its throat.—
(row it choked, kicked and began again
with 'week! week!' when it meant 'strong!'
hut it revived. Peggy held it in the Sun
till it grew warm, gave it a drop more, fed
it with bread crumbs from her own plate,
and laid it on the south window-sill. There
it lay when we went to tea; when we came
back, it lay on the floor, dead; either it was
tipsy, or had tried its new strength too soon,
and rolling off, had broken its neck! Poor
Peggy!
There were six more hatched next day
though, and I held many consultations with
Melindy about their welfare, Truth to tell,
Kate continued so cool to me, Peter's sprain
ed ankle lasted so long, Peggy could so well
spare me from the little matrimonial tele-a
fetes that I interupted, (I believe they did'nt
mind Kate!) that I took wonderfully to the
chickens. Mrs. Tucker gave me rye-bread
and milk of the best; 'father' instructed me
in the mysteries of cattle driving; and Me-
Lady, and Joe, and I, used to go straw-ber
rying, or after 'posies,' almost every day.—
Melindy was a very pretty girl, and it was
very good fun to see her blue eyes open and
her red lips laugh over my European expe
riences. Really, I began to be of some impor_
tance at the farm-house, and to take airs
upon myself, I suppose; but I was not con
scious of the fact at the time.
After a week or two, Melindy and I began
to have bad luck with the turkeys. I found
two drenched and shivering, after a hail-and
thunder storm, and setting them in a basket
on the cooking-store hearth, went to help
Melindy 'dress her bow-pot,' as she called
arranging a vase of flowers, and when I
came back the little turkeys were singed:
they died a few hours after. Two more
were trodden on by a great Shanghai roos
ter, who was so tall he could not see where
he set his feet down; and of the remaining
pair one disappeared mysteriously,—sup
posed to be rats; and one falling into the
duck-pond, Melindy began to dry it in her
apron, and I went to help her: I thought as
I was ;rubbing the thing down with the
apron, while she held it, that I had found
one:of her soft dimpled hands, and I gave
the luckless turkey such a tender pressure
that it uttered a miserable squeak, and de
parted this life. Melindy all but cried.—
I laughed irresistibly. So there were no
more turkeys. Peggy began to wonder
what they should do for the proper Thanks
giving dinner, and Peter turned restlessly
on his sofa, quite convinced that everything
was going to rack and ruin because he had
a sprained ankle.
'Can't we buy some young turkeys?' tim
idly suggested Peggy.
'Of course; if one know who had them to
sell,' retorted Peter.
I know,' said I; 'Mrs. Amzi Peters, up
on the bill over Taunton, has got some.'
'Who told you about Mrs. Peters' turkeys,
Cousin Sam?' said Peggy, wondering.
'Melindy,' said 1, quite innocently.
Peter whistled, Peggy laughed, Kate
darted a keen glance at Inc under her long
lashes
know the way there,' said Mademoi
selle, in a suspiciously bland tone. 'Can't
you drive there with me, Cousin Sam, and
get some more?'
'I shall be charmed,' said I.
Peter rang the bell, and ordered the horse
to be ready in the single seated wagon, after
'inner. I was going right down to the
farm house to console Melindy, and take
her a book she wanted to read, for no fine
lady of all my New York acquaintance en
joyed a good book more than she did; but
cousin Kate asked me to wind some yarn
for her; and was so brilliant, so amiable, so
altogether charming, I quite forgot Melindy
till dinner time, and then when that was
over, there was a basket to be found, and we
were off—turkey hunting! Down hill sides,
overhung with tasseled chesnut boughs;
through pine woods where neither horse nor
wagon intruded any noise of hoof or wheel
upon the odorous silence, as we rolled over
the sand, past green meadows, and sloping
orchards; over little bright brooks that chat
tered musically to the bobolinks on the
fence posts, and were echoed by those sacer
dotal gentlemen in such liquid, bubbling,
rollicking, uprorious bursts of singing as
made one think of Anacreon's grasshopper.
'Drunk with morning's den•) wine'
All these we passed, and at length drew up
before Mrs. Peters' house. I had been here
before, on a strawberrying excursion with
Melindy,—(across lots it was not far,)—and
having been asked in then, and entertained
the lady with a recital of some foreign ex
ploit, garnished fur the occasion, of course
she recognized me with clamorous hos
pitality.
`Why how do yew dew, Mister Green? I
declare I pa'n't done a thiukin' of that 'ere
story you told us s tile day you were here,
'long o' Melindy.' (Kate gave an ominous
little cough.) was a tali's' husband yes
terday, 't I never see sec's a master hand
for stories as you be. Well, yes, we hew
got turkeys, young 'uns; but my stars! I
don't know more where they be than nothin';
they've strayed away into the woods, I
guess, and I do'no' as the boys can skeer
'em up; besides the boys is to school; It'm
—yis! Where did you and Melindy go that
day arter berries?
'Up in the pine lot, ma'am. You think
you can let us have the turkies?'
'Dew tell of you went up there! It's near
about the sightliest place I ever see. Well,
no,—l don't see how's to ketch them turkeys.
Miss Bement, she 't lives over en Wood
chuck Hill, she's got a lot o' little turkeys
in a coop; I guess you'd better go 'long over
there an of you can't get none o' her'n, by
that time our boys 'll be to hum, an' I'll set
'ens arter °sten; they'll buckle right to; its
good sport huntin' little turkeys; an' I guess
you'll her to stop, comin' home, so's to let sue
know of you'll hey 'ens.'
Off we drove. I stood in mortal fear of
Mrs. Peters's tongue,—and Kate's com
ments; but she did not make any; she was
even more charming than before. Presently
we came to the pine lot, where Melindy and
I had been, and I drew the reins. I wanted
to see Kate's enjoyment of a scene that
Kensett or Church should have made im
mortal long ago:—n wide stretch of hill and
valley, quivering with cornfield, rolled away
in pasture lands, thick with sturdy woods,
or dotted over with old apple trees, whose
dense leaves caught the slant sunshine,
glowing on their tops and deepening to a
dark, velvety green below; and far, far
away, on the broad blue sky, the lurid
splendors of a thunder cloud, capped with
summits,
pearly summits, tower upon tower, sharply
defined against the pure ether, while in its
purple base forked lightnings sped to and
fro, and revealed depths of waiting tempest
that could not yet descend. Kato looked on,
and over the superb picture.
'How magnificent!' was all she said, in a
deep, low tone, her dark check flushing with
the words. Melindy and I looked off there
together. 'lt's real good land to farm,' had
been the sweet little rustic's comment. flow
charming are nature and simplicity!
Presently we Caine to Mrs. Bemont's, a
brown house in a cluster of maples; the
door yard full of chickens, turkeys, ducks
and geese. Kate took the reins, and I
knocked. Mrs. Bemont herself appeared,
wiping her red, puckered hands on a long
brown towel.
'Can you let me hare some of your young
turkeys, ma'am?' said I, insinuatingly.
'Well, I do'no';—want to cat 'em or raise
'em?'
'Both, I believe,' wits my meek answer
'I do'no"bout lettin' on 'em go; 'ta'n't
no Bret good to sell 'em after all the resks
is over; they nit their own livin' pretty
much now, an' they'll be worth twice as
much by'n'by.
'I suppose so; but Mrs. Smith's turkeys
have all died, and she likes to raise them.'
'Dew tell, of you han't come from Miss
Peter Smith's! Well, she'd oughter do gret
things with that 'erc tneetinJus' o' her'n'Tor
the chickens; it's kinder genteel-lookin' and
I spose they've got the means; they've got
the ability. Gentility without ability I du
despise, but where Trin't so, 't'a'n't no
matter; but I'spect it don't ensure the faowls
none, duos it?'
'I rather think not,' said I, laughing; that
is the reason we want some of yours.'
'Well, I should think you could hoe some
on 'em. What be yon calclatin' to give?'
'Whatever you say. Ido not know at all
the market price.'
'Good land! 't'a'n't never no use to dicker
with city folks; they a'n't used to't.—
rape& you can hey , 'ern for two York shit•
lin' apiece.'
'But how will you catch them?'
'Oh, I'll ketch 'cm easy!'
She went into the house and reappeared
presently with a pan of Indian meal and
water, called the chickens, and in a moment
$1,50 PER YEAR. IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
they were all crowding in and over the un
expected supper.
‘:.\ - ory you jes' take a bit o' string and tie
that 'efe turkey's legs together; 'twun't stir,
I'll ensure it:'
Strange to sny, the innocent creature
stood still and eat, while I tied it up; all un
conscious till it tumbled neck nod heels into
the pan, producing a start and a scatter of
brief duration. Kate had left the wagon,
and was shaking with laughter over this
extraordinary goodness on the turkey's part;
and before long our basket a-as full ofstrug
gling kicking, squeaking things, 'worry pro
miscuous' in Mr. Weiler's phrase. Mrs.
Bemont was paid, and while she was giving
me the change,—
'Oh!' said she, 'you're goin' right to Miss
Tucker's a'n't ye?—got to drop the turkeys;
—won't you tell Miss Tucker 't George is
comin' home to morrow, an' he's ben to
Californy. She kuow'd us idlers, and Mc
lindy George used to be dre'ful thick be
fore he went off, a good spell back, when
they was nigh about children; so I guess
you had better toll 'ctn.'
'Cour:mud the,,e turkeys!' muttered I, as
I jumped over the basket.
'Why?' said Kate, 'I suspect they are con
founded enough already!'
'They make such a noise, Kate!'
And so they did; 'week! week! week!' all
the way, like a colony from some spring
waked pool.
, frht,r 'floe might 1, compared
To the croaking of frowi to a pool'
The drive was lovelier than before. The
road crept and curved down the hill, now
covered from side to side with the interlacing
boughs of grand old chestnuts; now barri
er ed on the edge of a ravine with broken
fragments and boulders of granite, gnarled
by heavy vines; now skirting orchards full
of promise; and all the way accompanied
by a tiny brook, veiled deeply in alder and
hazel thickets, and making in its shadowy
channel perpetual muffled music, like a child
singing, in the twilight to reassure its half
fearful heart. Kate's face was softened and
full of rich expression; her pink ribbons
threw a delicate tinge of bloom upon the
rounded check and pensive eyelid; the air
was pure balm, and and a cool breath from
the receding showers of the distant thunder
storm just freshened the odors of wood
and field. 1 began to feel susrLiousl3-
sentimehtal, but through it all came that per
severing 'week! week! week!' from the basket
at my feet. Did I make a fine remark
about the beauties of nature, 'week!' echoed
the turkeys. Did Kate praise some tint or
shape by the way, 'week! week!' was the
response. Did we get deep in poetry, ro
numce, or metaphysics, through the most
brilliant quotation, the sublimest
the most acute distinction, came in 'week!
week! week!' I began to feel as if the old
story of transmigration were true, and the
souls of half a dozen quaint and ancient sat
irists had got into the turkeys. I could not I
endure it! Was Ito be squeaked out of all
my wisdom, and knowledge, and device, of
this fashion? Never! I began, too, to dis
cover a dawning smile on Kate's face; she
turned her head away, and I placed the tur
key basket on my knees, hoping a change
of position might quiet its contents. Never
was man snore at fault! they were no way
stilled by my magnetism; on the contrary,
they threw their sarcastic uttcrings into my
teeth, as it were, and shamed me to my very
face. I forgot entirely to go round by Mrs.
Peters's. 1 took a cross-road directly home
ward.—A pause—a lull—took place among
the turkeys.
'How sweet and mystical this hour is!'
said I to Kate, in a, high-flown manner; 'it
is indeed
"An hour when hint ilelny to enrol:,
Oppre•Red wnli silence deep and purr;
When patn,es—'
'Week! week! week!' chimed in those con
founded turkeys. Kate Lurst into a help
less fit of laughter. What could I du? I had
to laugh myself, since I must not choke the
turkeys.
'Excuse me, Cousin Sam,' said Kate, in a
laughter-wearied tone, 'I could not help it;
turkeys and sentimentality do not agree—al
ways!' adding the last word maliciously, as
I sprang out to open the farm-house gate,
and disclosed Me!lady, framed in the but
tery window; skimming milk; a picture
worthy of Wilkie. I delivered over my cap
tives to Joe, and stalked into the kitchen to
give Mrs. Bemont's message. Melindy
came out; but as soon as I began to tell her
mother where I got that message, Miss Me
liudy, with the sang froid of a duchess,
turned back to her skimming—or appeared
to. I gained nothing by that move.
Peggy and Peter received us benignly; so
universal a solvent is success, even in turkey
hunting! I meant to have gone down to the
farm-house after tea, and inquired about the
safety of my prizes, but Kate wanted to play
chess. Peter couldn't. and Pecgy wouldn't:
I had to, of course, and we played late. Kate
had such pretty hand.: long, taper fingers,
rounded to the tiniest rosy points; no (Ens- I
pies, but full muscles, Erns and exquisitely,
moulded; and the dainty way in which she
handled her men, was half the game to me;
—I lost it; I played wretchedly. The next I
day Kate went with me to see the turkeys;
so she did the day after. We were forget
ting Melindy, I am afraid, for it was a week
before I remembered I had promised her a
new Magazine. I recollected myself; then
with a sort of shame, rolled up tho number
and went off to the farm-house. It seems
Kate was there, busy in the garret. unpack
ing a bureaus that had been stored there
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,428.
with some of Peggy's foreign purchaseP, fur
summer wear, in the drawers. I did not
know that. I found Mclindy spreading
yea , t-cakes to dry on a table, just by the
north end of the lamt , e, a hop-vine in full
blossom made a sort of porch-roof over the
window by which she stood.
'l've brought your book, Mclindy,' said I.
'Thank you, sir,' returned she crisply.
'How pretty you look to-day:' condescend
' ingly remarked I.
I dont thank you fur that, sir;—.
1161=11!
Is open disgrace"'
'Why, Melindy! what makes you so cross?'
inquired I, in a tone meant to be tenderly
reproachful,—in the meantime attempting
to possess myself of her hand; for, to bo
honest, Polder, I had been a little sweet
to the girl before Kate drove her out of my
head. The hand was snatched away. I
tried indifference.
'How are the turkeys to-day, Meliudy?'
ILre Joe, an eviznt terrible, Caine upon
the scene suddenly.
'Them turkeys eats a lot, Mister Greene.
Melindy says there's one on 'em struts jes'
like you, 'n' makes as much gabble.'
I 'Gobble! gobble! gobble!' echoed an old
turkey from somewhere; I thought it was
overhead, but I saw nothing. Melindy
i threw her apron over her head and laughed
till her arms grew red. I picked up my
hat and walked off. For three days I kept
out of that part of the Smith demesne, I as
sure you! Kate began to grow mocking
and derisive; she teased me from morning
till night and the more she teased me, the
more I adored her. I was getting desperate,
when one Sunday night Kate aAted me to
walk down to the farm hou.e with her alter
tea, as Mrs. Tucker was sick, and she had
something to take to her. We found the
old woman sitting up in the kitchen, and
as full of talk as ever, though an unlucky
rheumatism kept her otherwise quiet.
'How do the turkeys come on, Mrs. Tuck
er?' said t, by way of conversation.
'Well, I declare, you ha'n't beerd about
them turkeys, her ye? Tou see they was
loin' tine, and father he went off to salt fur
a spell, so's to see'f 'twouldn't stop a com
plaint he's got,—l do'uo' but it's a spine in
the back,—makes him kinder faint by spells,
so's he loses his conscientiousness all to
once; so he left the chickens things for
Melindy to boss, 'n' she got somethin' else
into her head, 'n' she left the door open ono
night, and them turkeys they up 'n' run
away. I 'xpect they took to the woods,
'fore Melindy brought to mind how 't she
hadn't shut the door. She's sot out fur to
hunt 'em. I shouldn't wonder if she was
out now, seein' it's arter sundown.
'She ain't nether!' roared the terrible Joe
from behind the door, where he had retreat
ed at my coming. 'She's settin' on a flour
barrel down by the well, an' George Be
mont's a huggin' on her.'
Good gracious, what a slap Mrs. Tucker
fetched that unlucky child, with a long
brown towel that hung at hand! and how he
howled! while Kate exploded with laughter,
in spite of her struggles to keep quiet.
'lie is the dreTullest boy!' whined Mrs.
Tucker. 'Melindy tells how he sassed you
Vother day, Mr. Greene. I shall hey to
tewtor that boy; he's got to hey the rod, I
gue; , l'
I bade Mrs. Tucker good night, for Kate
was already out of the door, and, before I
knew what she was about, had taken a by
path in sight of the well; and there, to be
sure, sat Melindv, on a prostrate flour-bar
rel that was rolled to the foot of the big
apple•tree, twirling her fingers in pretty em
barrassment, and held on her insecure perch
by the stout arm of George Demont,
handsome brown fellow, evidently very well
content just now.
`Pretty,—isn't it?' said Kate.
'Very,—quite pastoral,' sniffed r.
We were sitting round the open door an
hour after, listening to a whippoorwill.
and watching the slow moon rise over a
hill• range
,just cast of Centreville, when
that elvish little 'week, week!' piped out of
the wood that lay behind the house.
'That is hopeful,' said Kate; 'I think Me
lindy and George mutt have tracked the
turkeys to their haunt, and scared them
homeward.'
'George—who?' said Pcggy.
'George Dement: it seem' he is—what i 4
your Connecticut phrase?—sparkin' Melin
tly.'
'l'm very glad: he is a clever fellow,' said
ECM
'And She IS such a very pretty girl,' con
tinue,: intelligent and graceful;
don't you think so. Sam?'
•Aw, ye..., well enough for a rustic,' said
I languidly. '1 never rould endure red
hair, though!'
Kate stopped on the door sil:; sho had
risen to go up stairs
'Gobble! gobble! gobble!' mocked she. I
had heard that once before! Peter and Peg•
gy roared; —they knew it all;—I was sold!
'Cure me of Kate Stevens?' of course it
did. I never saw her again without want
ing to fight shy, I was so sure of an allusion
to turkeys. No, I took the first down train.
There are more pretty girls in Now York,
twice over, than there aro in Centreville, I
console myself. but, by George! Polder,
Kato Stevens was charming!—Look out,
there! don't meddle with the skipper's coils
of rope: can't yen sleep on fleck without a
pillow?