May-Day Ramble.

V AMICS. There! now we are all ready: forward
march!

LUCY. ‘Where are you going to, James? that
is not the way to up—farm grove ; you know it is n‘t!

JAMES. Well, then, right about face! Iwill be
captain, anyhow.

THOMAS. Yes, and we’ll play we are going to
defend the lady-flowers from the ugly weeds and
thistles, won’t we?

LUCY. Yes, I’ll warrant you ’ll be very brave 
at defending lady-flowers from ueg thistles, es-
pecially as it is not yet time for such things. I
wish you had been as brave last night, when we

 

met that ugly cow, as we were coming from school.

MARY. \Vell, never mind the thistles and cows,
but let us be hurrying on, so as to get home early,
for you know sister Charlotte is going down to
Uncle \Vilson’s to-night, and we have pron‘iised to
bring her a bouquet of some of the prettiest wild-
flowers we can find. _ 

HATTY. Yes, and I ’m to select the violets, am I
not, Mary?

MARY. Certainly, Ilatty, you may select the Vio-
lets ; but you must be very particular, you know,
for we want to make the bouquet very pretty

CHARLES. And what flowers shall I find, Mary?
I hope you will say roses, they are 50 fine, and

R-kd'i\ 

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3:»; ;¢\\\1ll‘i";§””¢“; ‘ I do love Sister Charlotte dearly.
7 'm “ MARY. Ah! Charley, it is too early for roses;
“i” "3‘s; 1/ but we will see when we get there- I thilfi there
" / will be enough for us all.
 And thus they wentIOU, .hlty-‘City, up the road,
\\\\e“~\ and the lane, and the Side-hill pasture.
lb. \ yon. I. 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

70 YOUTH’S

CASKET.

 

It was May-day, and they were enjoying
it as happily as a bright morning and pleas-
ant anticipations would enable them to.
They were on their way to up-farm grove,
as it was called, in quest of wild-flowers
and Sport.

It was near the middle of the forenoon
ere they reached the grove, and glad they
were to sit down, and rest a while, when
they got there; not only because they were
somewhat out of breath, by reason of the
up—hill jaunt they had had, but also be-

cause that, from the spot where they were,

a most enchanting prospect was spread
out before them, made up of hills, valleys,
broad meadows separated now and then by
the windings of a bright, smooth river, with
a range of mountains, distant and blue,
just lifting their faint outlines above the
farthest horizon, and a score of other
characteristics usually mingled together
in extensive landseape views.

LUCY. 0 what a beautiful sight it is. If
we could only draw, as uncle Samuel can,
what a beautiful picture we could make.

HATTY. And then we would have it to
hang up in our play-room, would n’t we,
Lucy. How nice it would be. I wish
James could make pictures.

JAMES. Well, I guess I shall learn to
draw, Hatty, and when I do I will make
you a real pretty picture.

Thomas. O dear! you couldn’t learn

‘ to draw; you are not rich enough; uncle

Samuel had to go away of? to New York,

.to learn; and he spent a great deal of

money.
Ham. Yes James could learn to draw,
I know he could; could n’t you, James?
ALL AT ONCE. 0! see! see! there goes
a. little squirrel, on the fence there; let’s
run and catch him. See! there! he is

z-fl’

,é—

 

going up that tree! Run, James, and
stop him! Here, Lucy, you stand here!
Now then, stop him, Jaties! 0, here he
comes! There! he’s gene! Dear me!
How sorry I am.

MARY. Well, never mind, we will go
now and see what we can find.

And here they commenced their stroll
into the grove, some running this way
and some scampering that; the earnest
and gleeful tones of their voices min-
gling with the music of the birds which
thronged the trees above them. And
most pleasant it was to see them darting
about, hither and thither; now, glancing
suddenly in the rays which fell on them
through the overspreading branches; and
now, almost losing themselves amid the
intervening shadows; before this tree and
behind that; giving wings to their enjoy-
ment, now in tones of curious surprise,
and now in cheerful bursts of merriment;
their voices, in the mean time, ringing in
broken and rambling echoes through the
wooded maze which surrounded them.
Of wild-flowers there was certainly no
lack. Mary had seen her hands full of
this kind; Hatty her apron half full of
that kind; and Thomas his hat full of all
kinds. And, ever and anon as they en-
tered deeper and deeper into the wood,
and came across a more abundant, or
more inviting Spot of posies, down would
go all, or half which had previously been
gathered, to make room for a more fa
vored collection which soon took their
places; these in their turn, perhaps, to
give way to more favored ones still. In-
deed, there was no end t0 their gyrations
and hootations; and pickings and leav-

ings, &c. &c. &c.: and so you would have . '

thought, had you been there.

 

 

 

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72  YOUTH’S

CASKET.

 

LUCY. 0 look! away up on the high
bank, by that old tree! what nice flowers
there are! How I wish I 00uld get up
to them. James, you will get some for
me, won’t you? they will be so nice for
the bouquet.

THOMAS. I will get them for you, Lucy,
if I can get up to where they are.

LUCY. Do, Thomas, and then, when I ‘

give them to sister Charlotte, Iwill tell
her how you got up to such a high place
for them, and all for her.

THOMAS. No, not all for her, but partly
for you, dear sis. So here goes.

MARY. Ah! Thomas, you will find it
rather a difficult matter; I fear you will
have to give it up. I

THOMAS. No sir! I,will get them if I
have to tear my clothes half off, for Lucy

a: “will mend them up for me, won’t you,
I“ . ‘ 

LUCY. Yes I will!

JAMES. Wait a bit, Tommy, and I will
tell you how we can fix it. Here, you get
on my shoulders, and then you can reach
them.

THOMAS. Wei, some of you hold my
hat. There! how I can reach them.
Hurrah I here are the posies ! and here i
and here! Won’t we have a grand time
though. "

LUCY. 0 what a nice bouquet we shall
have, now; and hOW glad sister Charlotte
will be.

HA'rrY. Yes, and she will be proud
too, won’t she? I should-

LUCY. 0 no, you should n’t be proud,
Hatty, because you know that is wrong.

HATTY. But I am proud, though, a great
many times; and I can’t help it, either-

, Mm. There, Thomas, I think we have
got qhito a plenty of flowers now; 50

 

you may come down, and we will start
on toward home.

And Thomas was about~ getting down
when their ears were saluted by voices a

little way off, in thegrove, heralding the ‘

approach of new comers.

THOMAS. 0! there comes Ahab and
Susan Jones.

Here Ahab began hallooing, at the top

of his voice, that he had found a bird’s

nest; and that he was so glad James
and Thomas were there, for they could
help him get it, and then they could
have the pretty eggs.

MARY. Why Ahab! I should think you
would be ashamed to rob the nests of
poor innocent birds. James will’not help
to rob birds’, nests, you may be sure:

THOMAS. No, nor I:

LUCY. Indeed we will not.

HArrr. 0! don’t rob the pretty birds,
will you, Ahab!

AHAB. Well, for my part I can see no
great harm in just getting a few birds’

eggs, when the birds can lay a plenty ~

more.

ALL. Why Ahab?

But the eggs Ahab was determined to
have, and he exerted all the eloquence
of a naughty tongue to prevail on the
party to assist him in getting them. All
he wanted with” some one should just
boost him up ‘t first limb, he said,
and then he was sure he could get to
the nest, though it was in the highest
branches of a tall tree. As it was nearly
in their way home, Mary and the others
followed Ahab‘to the tree, with no in-
clination, however, of helping them; but,
strange to say, when they came in sight
of the nest, James, after whispering to
Mary, consented to help Ahab up, which

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOUTII’S

CASKET. 73

 

he proceeded to do, I‘Iatty in the mean
time almost crying, in sorrow, that her
brother shOuld be so cruel. Well, by
dint of very hard tugging, Ahab at last
managed to get into the lower branches
of the tree, though not without making
some sad rents in his holiday pants. He
then got on very well until he had as-
cended to about the middle of the tree,
where he found himself in almost as bad
a predicament as when on the ground,
for the next limbs were beyond his reach;
but as perseverance will conquer, too of-
ten in a wicked cause, he at last (after a
few extra rents, which vexed him exceed-
ingly) got over that difficulty, too, and
finally reached the nest, when, 10! to his
great disappointment and chagrin, it was
an empty old nest of the last year. You
may be sure there was a shout, loud
enough to give Ahab the blues for a week
to come, from the throats of the little
multitude underneath; for none, unless
it was poor Susan, pitied him in the least.
As perhaps you may have guessed, Mary
and James were quite prepared for the
joke, (but had kept it all to themselves)
for they saw at once, on their first arri—
. W

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Ahab was
glad enough to get down and hurry away

val, that it was an old nest.

with himself, as fast as his legs could
carry him.

They now turned their happy faces
homeward, joyful in their confidence that
when they got to sister Charlotte, they
would make glad her heart, with one of
the “ prettiest bouquets that ever was,” as
little IIatty expressed herself.

MARY. Let us go and see where Eddy
lies, and leave some of our beautiful flow-
ers on his grave, for he was a dear brother.

LUCY. 0 yes! let us; we all loved him,
he was so good.

And so they went around by the meeting—
house, behind which Eddy was buried, and
scattered some of their choicest gatherings
over his grave; and then, still happy, yet,
with their happiness and conversation soft-

ened in a measure by their remembrance of 
Eddy, they wended their way homewardgiij

where their satisfaction was heightened still
more by the approving smiles and commen-
dations of “ sister Charlotte,” who was as

pleased as they could have wished with the
beautiful bouquet she was presented with.
And thus ended their May-day Ramble.

  

 

 

 

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74 YOUTH’S CASKET.

 

Early Habits of'.0bservation—-The Young Ornithologist.

NEVER was a “bird nester,” in the
common acceptation of the term, and
my father allowed of no such amuse-
ments; but I was very fond of study-
ing the habits of birds, insects, &C. One
time I knew a place which, for many
years, had been almost annually chosen as
the habitation of a pair of tomtits : whether
the same couple had been the constant
Occupants, I must leave others to guess.
The Spot chosen was a hole in a wall, open-

 

ing into a dark chamber, and into this
opening I could peep, without being
observed by the little architects.

These favorable circumstances not being
of everyday occurrence, I resolved to
avail myself of them, should the place
again be selected as a habitation. As a
preliminary step, I placed a small, square
box in the hole, with a view not only to
my own accommodation, but that of the
birds also, for the hole came through the
wall, and against it, but not quite close,
was placed a shutter: and, before I gave
them the box, many and many a bit of
green moss did “Tom” and “Peggy”
bring for their nest, which fell down, one
after the other, between the shutter and
the wall. Indeed, I have seen more than
a. hat—crown full 0f moss disposed of in
this way, before the bird had been able to
commence the formatiOD 0f the nest.

A pair of birds soon tOOk possession of
the box, and, pleased that my scheme was
likely to succeed, delight took possession
of me; and many and with short times
between were the visits that I paid to my
little proteges. Very soon the nest was
almost finished, and I waited impatiently
for the appearance of the first egg. Day

 

after day I inspected the box, but no egg
did I find; I began to think that either a
lad or a mouse must be the manufacturer,
for there was very little appearance of
“architecture;” the brown moss seemed
to be just laid in the box. I therefore
examined the nest, and I found, carefully
hidden, with apparent carelessness, three
beautiful eggs. The nest was thus covered
after the deposit of each egg, (I believe
one was laid every morning,) till the num-
ber was completed, when the birds began
to sit, and of course the eggs were not
afterward covered. Fourteen days (I be-
lieve fourteen,) brought to light a fine
family of little ones. We three, that is,
the father, mother and myself, were all
very happy with our fine prospect; but
in a few days one of the old ones —I sup—
pose the mother—was brought lifeless to
the ground, by a stone from the hand of
a wicked, mischievous lad. The young
ones died in a few hours; indeed I am not
aware that the widowed bird ever visited
the nest after he lost his mate. Thus
ended the first trial.

In the following Spring another nest
was built, eggs were laid, and the birds
began to sit. In order to ascertain whether
birds sit so “hard” as is represented, I
repeatedly disturbed the hen while on the
nest, and several times, with a small stick,
actually turned her “topsy-turvy;” but
never frightened her from the nest. In
due time I had a breed of tomtits. When
they were first hatched, the hen sat upon
the young ones several hours during the
day. This time was gradually shortened,
till they were sufficiently fledged not to
require such a protection from the air.

*1

 

 

 

 

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YOUTH’S CASKET.

75

 

So far as I ascertained, they were fed
entirely with small grabs and caterpil-
lars: many of these were brought from
some apple-trees growing near; but I
never observed a single bud of any kind,
and I was induced to believe that these
birds are at this time of the year very
useful in freeing the blossoms of fruit-
trees, from these noxious little occupants.

The young birds grew very fast; but,
when nearly fledged, the nest was discov-
ered by some idle lads, who took them
from their “clean, warm, soft nest, and
from the parent birds,” and one by one,
deliberately pelted them to death. Such
' was the untoward result of my second
attempt to rear 9. brood of tomtits.

My next step was to hang up‘a small
box, with a hole just large enough to ad-
mit a small bird, against the wall of an
outbuilding, in hopes that some confiding
tomtit would adopt it as a habitation.
The first summer “Tom” did not come,
at least he did not build. The second
summer I was one day walking past, when
I heard a noise as if some bird was con-
fined in the box, and beating the sides
with its wings. I found it was “ Tommy ”
building his nest: the noise, which I often
heard afterward, was made by the bird,
The
nest was completed, the eggs were laid,
and so “hard” did the old bird sit, that
I several times carried the box into the
house, a distance of forty or fifty yards;
yet she never attempted to escape. It
is true I closed the Opening, but she made
no effort to stir from the nest. The
result of this last trial was just what I
wished; the young birds “flew,” to the
great discomfort of the old gardener, who
thought i must be out of my senses, to

as I suppose, adjusting the moss.

 

train up a brood of such mischievous
little creatures. For my part, I am sat-
isfied of their utility; for the benefit
derived from their labor, in freeing the
blossoms of fruit-trees from noxious in-
sects, quite outbalauees the little liberties
which they doubtless do sometimes take
with the buds of trees, more especially
gooscberry-trees. Early in the spring,
when the weather is severe, they do visit
these trees; and, whether they are seek-
ing buds, or insects in the buds, the

effect is the same, the buds are destroyed.
-— Selected.

 

Early Remembrances.

 

BY MRS. J. M. 3.

 

‘3
4:

, dear children, if you will just
draw your chairs around the table,
and give me your attention, I will
relate a few incidents to you, that
transpired when I was like )‘011, a child.
Years have passed away Since then, but I
often look back to the days of innocent
childhood, with feelings which I cannot
describe : but if you “"0, Children, you will
well understand What they are. In the
first place, I will give you a slight descrip-
tion of my native village. If you will just
take your maps and look in the north-east-
ern part of the state of New York, you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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76 YOUTH’S

 

will see the names of VVatertown and Og-
densburgh. And situated about half way
between these two places, is the delightful
village of Gouverneur. I do n’t think you
will find the name on your map, but I am
quite sure, if geography-makers were as
fond of that place as I am, they would
put it down on all their maps, and describe
it in all their books. The first thing that
could be seen upon-entering the village
from the cast, was the belfry of the acad-
emy, which was a large stone building.
It was nicely finished, and always well
filled with students from all parts of the
state. The ringing of the bell every half
hour for recitation, and the many scholars
running to and from school, added a good
deal to the otherwise quietude of the vil-
lage, and made it appear lively; I presume
however, some of my little city friends
would have thought it very dull, and quite
monotonous; but I always thought it was
the loveliest spot on the earth. Below
the academy, standing on the green, was
the old brick school—house; and a little
further down, the church with its tall
spire. On one side of the most public
street, (as there were but two or three dif-
ferent ones in the whole village,) stood
two stores and the hotel or tavern; on the
other side was the post-office, and a little
way down was the mill; the buzz of whose
wheels I often fancy even now I can hear.
Of the beautiful l‘lVOI‘ I have not yet
spoken, and I am half astonished-at my-
self to think I have left it until nearly
the last thing to mention. The name of
this lovely river was “ Oswegatchie.” N ow,
children, that is rather a hard word to
speak, but it is, I suppose, an Indian name,
for a great many years ago, before you or
I can remember, Indians inhabited that

 

 

very place. The river was not very wide,
but many miles long and very crooked,
and such beautiful trees and flowers as
grew on either éside, I have never seen
since. There was~ & rough-made bridge
over it, and speaking of it, reminds me of
the many times I have run across it with
half a dozen children of my own age, in
search of nuts, winter-greens and flowers.
There is a story connected with this river
which I am going to tell you, and if I am
not careful, I shall take up too much time
with my preliminaries. There is one place
more I must mention, which seems dearer
to my heart than any other. It was my
own dear home. “Our house” stood on a
gentle eminence, and was such an one as
novel-writers would call a white cottage.
Just back of it was a beautiful grove of
forest trees, and in front was a. large gar-
den filled with a‘ great variety of shrubs
and flowers; indeed, the house was nearly
hidden from the road by the shrubbery.
Over the front door was a. trellis-work
porch, completely covered with the sweet-
scented honeysuckle and woodbine. Oh,
how often when a child, I have sat on that
very porch, in a calm, moonlight evening,
by my father’s side, and listened while he
played his sweet flute, which made the
whole village re—echo the melody. There
are also some sad, sad memories connected
with that dear home. But a little way
from “our house,” and by walking down

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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YOUTHs

CASKET. W

 

to the gate, I could see the white tomb-
stones that marked the spot where a dear
old grandmother, and a sweet young
brother slept. When recollection wanders
to that dear retreat, my heart throbs with
emotion, and memory seems painful.

By the way, dear children, if any of you
have an aged grandmother, always be kind
to her, for a grandmother's dying blessing
is worth a world of rubies. I remember
as though it was but yesterday, the last
time my poor old grandmother laid her
death~palsied hands upoutny' young head,
and charged me to be kidd to my parents,
and always to speak the truth. Oh ! how
often I have thought of that parting ad-
vice. My poor grandmother’s dust has
long slept in the ground, but she still lives
in heaven, and I hope at last to meet her
there. But, children, I have been so long
with my remarks, that I cannot tell my
story until the next number; however,
dear young friends, wait patiently, and
you shall hear the remainder.

 

The Berry Boy.

, NE day last autumn, a hardy, tough-
looking Yankee boy came into the

 

city with a quantity of berries for
sale, and while one of our mer-
chants was paying him for a few quarts of
berries, he learned from him several inter-
esting facts in his history, which we think
worthy of being recorded to the honor of
the boy’s perseverance, and for the en-
couragement of others, both men and
boys, in the battle of life. The boy is only
a little over twelve years of ago. His fa-
ther died when he was young, leaving a
poor widow with three children, this boy

 

and two little girls. When the boy was
less than ten years of age, he conceived
the idea, a truly American idea, and which
we wish every American fully entertained
and appreciated, of owning a piece of land,

and he set himself about a calculation

how he should pay for it. Having satisfied
himself of the result, he found a piece of
land which would suit him about three
miles from the city, and his application
was received, and he entered upon the
land and set himself to work to pay for it.
During the berry season, he and his sisters
pickeQ berries and brought them in and
501d them, paying over such little sums as
he could part with toward the land. That A
season he sold forty dollars worth of ber-
ries, and on the day mentioned, he owed
but nineteen dollars for his land.

This little fellow is not only a heroic
worker, but an efficient teacher by exam-
ple. How many men with greater strength
and greater ability to accumulate, have
lived through the three past years without
accomplishing as much as this boy. How
many young men waste in useless indul-
gences and extravagances, enough in three
years to pay for a lot of land for a home-
stead, in which they could plant trees and
flowers, and make attractive with its wied
beauty, and on which, after a few years Of
prudent saving, they could erect 8 Heat
dwelling for a home P We like the teach-
ings of this boy’s example, and ifthere isgme
thought of wordly wisdom above 01:39“,
which we would plant in the mind of every
American, it (is this—secure the title of
a piece of land and make it a home, and
make that home beautiful and attractive
in all its externals and its internals, make
it the nearest possible, a representation of
heaven.— Selected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOUTH’S

CASKET.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Family Chats.

usr fancy yourself, my young friend,
,taking a trip, with cousin Kate, to a
pleasant New England village.

Shall we stop at this pretty, white
cottage, so snugly hid among the trees?
It is a cold, winter night, and as we enter
the parlor you will be very apt to make
directly for the cheerful fire that is blazing
away in the Open grate; but wait a moment,
little impatient, while I introduce you to
this pleasant circle.

That old lady, in the corner, (knitting
away so steadily that puss, there, has to
purr fast, to keep up with the hum of her
needles,) is the grandmother of the family.

Mr. Cummings, the father of the family,
sits in the other corner, gazing into the
fire with such an easy, contented look,
that I dare say he is thinking of nothing
at all, or nothing in particular. _

That pleasant looking lady, by the work-
stand, is Mrs. Cummings. I should not

wonder if she was making that warm frock
for the roguish little girl who has just
drawn up her stool to commence a frolic
with Madam Jesse, the puss.

Charles and Mary have recited their
school lessons for the next day, and
Charles, having reached the discreet age
of twelve years, feels himself vastly too
old for childrcns’ sports; so he sits looking
very scornfully at his little sister, as much
as to say, Pooh! what fun can there be in
teasing a cat?

Mary’s thoughtful face is turned upon
the fire. I wonder what she is thinking
about. Listen!

“Father, do you think there are many
poor people who havn’t got any fire
to-night ?”

“Well,” exclaims little Jane, dropping
kitty’s paw, “they must be foolish to go
cold, when there is so much wood in the
world. I guess you’d think so, Mary, if

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

V

 

 

YOUTH’S

CASKET. 79

 

you had gone to Maine to see Aunt Ra-
chel, as mother and I did, last summer.
Why, we rode miles and miles straight
through the woods, and the trees were so
thick that they made the wood almost
dark. Was n’t it so, mother ?”

“Yes, daughter, and you remember Un-
cle John said they had a great deal larger
forests than you saw. He said the men
would take their axes, and enough to eat
for several weeks, and go deep into the
woods, far way"f1'01n home. There they
would build little hutsfand stay all winter,
chopping wood for marketf"

“ Oh, yes, mother, I remember all about
it. I guess if Mary had heard that,
she would n’t have thought any body
need freeze to death.” And little Jane
looked up_very complacently at her older
sister.

“Jane,” said Mr. Cummings, “can you
tell how many people there are in the
United States 3”

“No sir; the teacher said Our classes
were so small we need not learn the
population.”

“I know the population,” said Charles,
with a marked accent upon the last word;
“there are about twenty-four millions.” '

“ N ow, Jane,” said the father, “it would
take you about nine months to count
twenty-four millions, if you should count
one every second without stopping a mo-
ment to take breath. Do n't you think
those men in Maine would have to 0110p 13.
good while, to give us a stick apiece, all
round P”

Jane looked quite crest-fallen; but in a
moment, clapping her hands, she ex-
claimed, “I know how it is. There are
Woods in a. great many places besides
Maine, and I heard Mr. Harris tell the big

 

class in geography about ever so many
logs in a river; a — a’— what did he call
it, Charles ?"

“Yes,” said Charles, straightening him-
self up, as if he was thinking, “now, I’ll
show father how well I remember my les-
sons.” “It was the raft of Atchafalaya in
the former bed of the Red River. About
twenty years ago it was ten miles long, and
two hundred twenty yards wide. It had
great trees sixty feet high growing on it,
when it was cut away.”

“VFW well, my son; that would be
quite an addition to your stock of fire-
wood, Jane. But then, there are all the
shops, and factories, and steam-engineS, all
over the country, to be supplied”.

“And the meeting-houses, too,” cried
Jane, quite forgetting her side of the ques-
tion. They all laughed, but the little girl
was sure a great deal would he wanted for
the churches.

“Ah, Jane,” said the grandmother; “if
you had lived when I was little, you
wouldn’t have calculated on much wood
for the meeting—house.”

“Now do tell us all about it,” cried
both girls in a breath; for they all loved
grandmas stories of old times, though
W’s fastidious car, was sometimes
shocked by the old lady’s utter want 0f
reverence for grammar and pronunciation.

“Well;” and the old lady laid down her
knitting and raised her spectacles. “ ‘Vfill,
in them (lays, folks didn’t lie abed till
nine o’clock Sunday mornings but We
were all in a stir as quick as we could "see
a speck of light through the chinks in the
logs, (for we children slept up in the loft,)
and if we found an extra blanket of snow
on our beds in the morning, we did n’t
mind it no more than nothing, but jumped

 

 

 

 

 

 

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80 YOUTH’S

CASKET.

 

up quick and run down the ladder barefoot,
and put on our warm stockings and cow-
hide shoes by the kitchen fire—and a
roaring great one it was—then we took
our pails and piggins “—

“Your what, grandma ?”

“Piggins, Mary. I wonder if you ’ve
lived so long in the world, without seeing
a piggin; well, it beats all! what are our
girls coming to ?” And the old lady drew
a. deep sigh, and then resumed the thread
of her discourse.

“Well, as  was saying, we .next went to
the barn to milk the cows, and when we
got through, our mother would have a nice
dish of porridge ready for us children-—
they don’t make any such porridge now-
a-dayszetsey, (aside to Mrs. C.,) and the
minute prayers were over, we did up the
chores and fixed for church.”

“ O, grandma, do tell us what you wore,”
said Mary coaxingly.

“Yes, child, and if you think we were
worked Merinoes, and pink satin hats with
feathers, and such folderols, you are vastly
mistaken. I calculate we had sense enough
to dress according to the weather, in them
days; and you never see any thing neater
than we looked in our best flannel gowns,
and cloth pelisses trimmed with rabbits’
fur; our black Silk hoods and our white
mittens, spotted with pink. Did n’t we
look nice and comfortable-like?”

Grandma was really growing eloquent
0:61' the remembrance, but Charles, whose
taste did not lie in the discussion of girls’
war'drobes, asked “what sort of sleighs
they used to have ? ”

“Ah! you may well ask that, Charles;
Why in these degenerate days, the snow
is n’t a circumstance to what it used to be!
Many and many a time I’ve rode to

 

church when I could see nothing but the
ptOp rails of the fences. A pretty fix we
should have been in, if we had tried to
flounder through the drifts in your little
fancy sleighs—we knew better. When
We got ready for meeting, we all piled on
to the ox-sled, and father tucked the blan-
kets and sheep-skins snugly around us,
and we started. To be sure the oxen
warn’t very spry critters, and by the time
we. got to the end of our ride we were as
stiff as frozen eels. And “for the old
meeting—house, that was always perched
on the top of a hill, so as to be exactly in
the middle of the parish.”

“ I guess, grandma, you went straight to
the stove as quick as you got there,”
said Jane.

“ Stove! we didn’t have any stoves, or
fire-places, in the meeting-houses in those
days. So you see we didn’t need any
wood; and besides, Parson Clark always
preached a special long sermon on cold
Sabbaths, and Thomas (our Tom was a
proper roguish boy,) used to say he did it
on purpose to see us children shiver; but
I always told him it was wrong for him to
speakso of the minister.” ‘

“How glad I am I did not live in those
days,” exclaimed Mary.

“And I, too,” said Charles, adding fresh
fuel to the fire.

This last movement aroused Mr. Cum-
mings, who had fallen asleep during
grandma’s episode about old times. “ Well,
children,” said he, rubbing his eyes, “ have
you settled about the fuel yet? I can tell
you there’s a pretty large wood-pile you
have not reckoned upon yet, but as it is
Jane’s bed-time, we will talk about that
another time.

'Cousm KATE.

 

 

 

 

 

Tam. v ..- _

W-.. .Mfl.

._.. mums-.— Mann..." 9‘5)“: .m damn. >-

 

 

 

 

YOUTH’S CASKET. Bl

 

  

'1.

EAR little friends: we know of no,
subject on which we could tell you
a greater variety of pleasing and
interesting anecdotes, than that of

the dog.

How well do we remember— and it was
as far back as our memory extends — one of

 

our earliest and best friends, and our con—
stant companion when abroad among the
hills and valleys, brooks and meadows,
woods and fields, which have a thousand
times echoed t0 the sound of our merry
voices.

This friend and companion was our good
dog “Tiger,” so named on account of his
color, which was of a yellowish brown, and
striped on his sides. We shall never for-
get our first introduction to him, although
it happened over twenty—five years ago.
Our father had been out on business, and
we children were all in bed and asleep
When he came home at night. In the
morning we were the first to awake, and
creeping out of bed, all impatient to see
if father had brought us home any thing
from the village, we hurried toward his

 

 

The Shepherd’s Dog.

room, but on opening the door into the
hall, we were saluted by the barking of a
dog not then much larger than a eat; but
a full grown tiger, direct from Bengal,
could not have frightened us more, and
we scampered back to our bed as fast as
our little legs could carry us ; but our fears
soon subsided, and long before night, we
had become very familiar: so much so,
that we shared our supper of bread and
milk with him, and it was quite a grief to
us that we were not permitted to sleep to-
gether. He became a great favorite with
the whole family, which was composed 0f
a goodly number of brothers and SiStOYS,
all of whom shared their affOCtionS With
the new-comer.

The Shepherd's Dog, WhiCh is repre‘
sented in the above engraving, is one of
the most intelligent and useful dogs in
the world. In the northern parts of Scot-
land, on the high mountains, are kept large
flocks of sheep, attended by a man called
a shepherd, and one or two dogs. These
(logs have such a peculiar instinct for the
management of sheep, that under the

 

 

 

 



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82 YOUTH’S

CASKET.

 

direction of the shepherd they soon have
almost the whole control of the flock. By
a word or sign they perceive the wants of
their masters and quick as thought start
off to execute them. They are not only
useful in collecting and driving the flocks,
but, being very large and strong, are good
in guarding them from the attacks of
wolves and other animals, that inhabit
those mountainous regions.

The following anecdote was often told
by the gifted poet, Mr. James Hogg. It
will undoubtedly be interesting to most
of our readers.

“On one night, a large flock of lambs
that were under the Ettrick Shepherd’s
care, frightend by something, scampered
away in three different directions across
the hills, in Spite of all he could do to
keep them together. ‘Sirrah,’ said the
shepherd, ‘they ’re a’ awa!’ It was too
dark for the deg and his master to see
each other .at any considerable distance,
but Sirrah understood him, and set off
after the fugitives. The night passed on,
and Hogg and his assistant traversed
every neighboring hill in anxious but

 

fruitless search for the lambs; but he
could hear nothing of them nor of the
dog, and he was returning to his master
with the doleful intelligence that he had
lost all his lambs. ‘ On our way home,
however,’ says he, ‘we discovered a lot
of lambs at‘tip bottom of a deep ravine
called the Flesh Cleuch, and the indefat-
igable Sirrah standing in front of them,
looking round for some relief, but still
true. to his charge. We concluded that
it was one of the divisions which Sirrah
had been unable to manage, until he
came to that commanding situation. But
what was our astonishment when we dis-
covered that not one lamb of the flock
was missing! How he had got all the
divisions collected in the dark, is beyond
my comprehension. The charge was left
entirely to himself from midnight until
the rising sun; and, if all the shepherds
in the forest had been there to assist
him, they could not have efl‘ected it with
greater promptitude. All that I can say
is, that I never felt so grateful to any
creature under the sun as I did to my
honest Sirrah that morning.”

Hide Them Away.

 

y“
Wt

BY ANN PAGE.

 

HIDE them, 0 hide them all away_.
His cap, his little frock;

And take from out my aching sight
Yon curling. golden lock ;

Ah! once it waved upon his brow I
Ye torture me anew, —-

Leave not so dear a. token here ——
Ye know hot what yo do i

Last night the moon came in my room,
And on my bed did lie; at '
I Woke, and in the silver light ‘
I thought I heard him cryi‘v,yvi
I leaned toward the little on  ' I
The curtain drew aside,  
Before, half sleeping, I bethought

Me, that my boy had died l

  
 

 

 

 

 

 

. r. i.  o.

 

 

 

 

YOUTH’S CASKET. 83

 

Take them away i I cannot 1001:
On augl.t that breathes of him i
0, take away the silver cup,
His lips have touched its brim.
Take the straw hat from off the wall,
’T is wreathed with withered flowers :
The rustling leaves do whisper me
Of all the 10Ved, lost hours.

The rattle, with its music bells—
0, do not let them sound l
The dimpled hand, that graspd them once,
Is cold beneath the ground.
The willow wagon, on the lawn,
Through all my tears I see;
Roll it away, 0 ! gently roll:
It is an agony l

 

His shoes are in the corner, nurse,
His little feet no more

Will patter like the falling rain,
Fast up and down the floor.

And turn that picture to the wall —
His loving, mournful eye

Is piercing through my very heart,
Again I see him diel

O, anguish l how he gazed on me
When panted out his breathl

I never, never knew before
How terrible was death.

My boy — my own —— my only one—
Art thou forever gone ?

O God i help me to bear the stroke,
That leaves me all alone I

 

(Ehi’wr’r @uhlr.

The First of May.

1: almost envy our country friends
the freedom with which they can
enjoy this day: the bright usher-
ing-in time of the full glories of
the year. The green carpeted earth, the fresh
{caved woodlands, and the sunny fields, with
ill their innumerable hosts of birds and
flowers: ah how fine! We, who live pent
up in brick-walled cities, can appreciate such
luxuries, we apprehend, better, even, than your-
selves, little friends of the country. But if
you think erwise, just come and make us
a visit, n lay, and try it. See how you
would relish the being tumbled out of house

 

and home, in the midst of all the trumpery
which can be huddled together from the cel-
lar to the Mt; and then be trundled through
the street, across this corner, and around
that;  irito and banged about. by all
sorts 0f “muons, carts, wheelbarrows, &c., each,
like your own, loaded by one half the trash

 

and fol-de-rols in creation: one fourth of the
time, perhaps, dripping through showers; and
then, to end off with, the slim comfort of a
cold bite, and a couch-down for the night, al-
most shaking to pieces with chills and cramps,
on old beddings, carpetings, or any-things, so
that you can have the slightest chance of even
the most troubled and broken rest, after all the
miseries of the day.

However, even in cities, to those who have
leisure to enjoy it, May-day is a happy day;
for were there nothing more to endear it to
us, it is a day full of hope for future good
and enjoyment; crammed full, as it iii, of
pleasant Visions of plumS. P6301199: and apple
orchards.

’_——-—-

To CORRESPONDENT5.—By an oversight, such
as We shall be careful to avoid in future, we
omitted to acknowledge the answers to enigma
sent us by Some of our young friends, among
whom Were “ Effie,” “Grace,” and, we believe,

 

 

 

 

 

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84 YOUT-«H’S

\

Master “ Tafl'.” We hope they will pardon the
omission.

\Ve are heartily'obliged to “Cousin Kate,”
and “Mrs. J. M. 8.,” for their Valuable contribu-
tions. We tender them our compliments, and
hope they will remember us in good season for
the next number.

We have given “E. E. B." quite a resting
spell, and shall look for a contribution for June.

We have no inclination to forget “Uncle
Philo,” and hope he will not forget us.

We hafi received “Catherine W.”’s communi-
cation, but are sorry to say that it will not quite
answer. We appreciate her kindnem, and thank
her for it. She shall hear from us again.

"A. A. G.”’s enigma was not blind enough ;
he must try again.

“ R. O. W.” sends us an enigma, but it is not
so good as his first, and had better be remodeled.
His conundrum we have seen, somewhere,
before.

 

ENIGMA NO. VIII.

I am composed of 9 letters. My 1, 5, 6, 7, is
something every person needs. My 4, 2, 9, 6, 8,
is a useful animal. My 5, 6, 7, 4, 8, 9, is a girl’s
name. My 6, 3, 2, 7, 7, is the name of a distin-
guished general. My 4, 8, 9, is a personal pro-
noun- My 6, 5, 7, 7, 8, 5, is a useful article of
furniture. My 6, 4, 2, 5, 6, is an indispensable
article of dress. My Whole is the name of a city
in this state. mum

N

ENIGMA N0. 11:. U

I am composed of eleven letters, My 1, 2, 3,
ll, 5, 1, is a flourishing city in New York. My
2, 8, 1‘0, 1, 7, is a river in the United States.
My 3, 9, 10. 7, 4, is a sea in Europe. My 4, 5,
5, is a small harbor on the coast of the Atlantic.
My 8, 6, 7, is a lake in British America. My 10,
l, 3, 6, is one of the United States. My 1, 7, 7,
6, 3, is [a river in British America. My 8, 6, 2,
8, 1, is: bay on the coast of the Atlantic. My
1, 2, 6, 5, 4, is a river in Missouri. My 2, 8, 1,

 

CASKET.

7, 7, is a cape on the coast of the Pacific. My
whole is a river in the state of New York.
EMILY.

 

ENIGMA NO. X.

I am composed of 17 letters. My 16,14, 9, 5
17, is something in every house. My 16, 4, 8,
is a Weight. My 9, 2, 15, is useful to mariners.
My 6, 2, 16, is What we all must do. My 16, 4,
6, is an extremity. My 16,12,15, 16, is an arti-
cle of food. My 15, 2, 16, is a mischievous ani-
mal. My 6, 2, 15, 5, is a title of nobility. My
whole is the name of a distinguished man.

JOHN M. TAFF.

 

ENIGMA NO. XI

I am composed of 11 letters, My 2, 1, 7,8
is indispensable to seamen. My 3, 8, 9, 6, 11, is
What most children like to hear. My 1, 11, 3, 8,
4, 5, is what some people like to eat. My 2, 1,
9, 8, issa common article of dress. My 5, 4, 3,
'8, is what every. body needs. My 2, 9, 738, 8,
is something that lives on the earth. My Whole
is the name of a building. MARY.

 

ENIGMA no. xix.
I am composed of 2 letters. My 1, is a vowel.
My 1, 2, is a liquid. My whole is a city men-

tioned in sacred history. arm.

 

ENIGMA NO. XIII. ._ ,1
I am a word of eight letters. My 6, 3, 4,
8, 6, is a fertilizer. My 3, 8, 5, is wrathful. My

7, 1, 6, 5, is unfailing. My w ' all things
combined.

—.—-

ANSWERS r0 swarms, 8w.

We have received answers to Enigma No. v1.,
from Charles Newkirk, John M. Tail, and “Ef-
fie ; ” to Enigma No. vn., from “Maria,” John M
Taff, and Charles Newkirk. '

smog” so. vx.~—Youth’s Casket.

ENioMA x0 VIL—BHltlmOl‘fl.

coxuxnnum so I.——Hauser, (Haw-sir.)