Natures Serial Story | Page 4

pleasant excursions, with which it is their
custom to relieve their busy life; we shall take part in their rural labors,
and learn from them the secret of obtaining from nature that which
nourishes both soul and body; they will admit us to their confidence,
and give us glimpses of that mystery of mysteries, the human heart; and
we shall learn how the ceaseless story of life, with its hopes and fears,
its joys and sorrows, repeats itself in the quiet seclusion of a country
home as truly as in the turmoil of the city. Nor would our visit be
complete did we not witness among the ripened fruits of conjugal
affection the bud and blossom of that immortal flower which first
opened in Eden, and which ever springs unbidden from the heart when

the conditions that give it life and sustenance are present.
The hallway of this central scene of our story is wide, and extends to a
small piazza in the rear. The front half of this family thoroughfare,
partitioned off by sliding-doors, can thus be made into a roomy
apartment. Its breezy coolness causes it to be a favorite resort on sultry
days, but now it is forsaken, except that a great heater, with its ample
rotundity and glowing heart, suggests to the visitor that it stands there
as a representative of the host until he shall appear. Some portraits, a
fine old engraving, a map of the county, and some sprays of evergreen
intermingled with red berries, take away all bareness from the walls,
while in a corner near the door stands a rack, formed in part by the
branching antlers of a stag, on which hang fur caps and collars, warm
wraps and coats, all suggesting abundant means of robbing winter of its
rigor. On hooks above the sliding-doors are suspended a modern rifle
and a double-barrelled shot-gun, and above these is a firelock musket
that did good service in the Revolution.
The doors opening into the rear hall were pushed back, revealing a
broad stairway, leading with an abrupt turn and a landing to the upper
chambers. A cheerful apartment on the left of this hall was the abode of
an invalid, whose life for many years disease had vainly sought to
darken. There were lines of suffering on her thin, white face, and her
hair, once black, was silvered; but it would seem that, in the dark,
lustrous eyes of the patient woman, courage and hope had been kindled,
rather than quenched, by pain. She was now reclining on a sofa, which
had been wheeled near to a wood-fire glowing on the hearth of a large
Franklin stove; and her dreamy, absent expression often gave place to
one of passing interest as her husband, sitting opposite, read from his
paper an item of news--some echo from the busy, troubled world, that
seemed so remote from their seclusion and peaceful age. The venerable
man appeared, however, as if he might still do his share in keeping the
world busy, and also in banishing its evils. Although time had whitened
his locks, it had touched kindly his stalwart frame, while his square jaw
and strong features indicated a character that had met life's vicissitudes
as a man should meet them. His native strength and force, however,
were like the beautiful region in which he dwelt--once wild and rugged

indeed, but now softened and humanized by generations of culture.
Even his spectacles could not obscure the friendly and benevolent
expression of his large blue eyes. It was evident that he looked at the
world, as mirrored before him in the daily journal, with neither
cynicism nor mere curiosity, but with a heart in sympathy with all the
influences that were making it better.
The sound of a bell caused the old man to rise and assist his wife to her
feet; then, with an affectionate manner, tinged with a fine courtesy of
the old school, he supported her to the dining-room, placed her in a
cushioned chair on his right, at the head of the table, and drew a
footstool to her feet. There was a gentleness and solicitude in his
bearing which indicated that her weakness was more potent than
strength would have been in maintaining her ascendency!
Meanwhile the rest of the family flocked in with an alacrity which
proved either that the bitter cold had sharpened their appetites, or that
the old-fashioned one-o'clock dinner was a cheerful break in the
monotony of the day. There was a middle-aged man, who was
evidently the strong stay and staff on which the old people leaned. His
wife was the housekeeper of the family, and she was emphatically the
"house-mother," as the Germans phrase it. Every line of her good, but
rather care-worn, face bespoke an anxious solicitude