twelve-though one after a fall-stood firmly to their Master, and will be in good favor in the church to the end of ages. How unjust then in a wholesale way to visit the sins of a few upon all, acting like a foolish man who should cut down an entire orchard, because one tree has yielded bitter fruit.

Both scripture and experience prove that as pious parents have the promises in behalf of their children, so, alas, have they the blessing, if they only claim it by faithfulness. What encouragement lies in the glorious fact, that God includes the children in every promise which he makes to parents! Who could ask a greater honor than to train citizens for heaven-to aid in peopling those blessed realms of light and life with such as shall be the companions and favorites of the Lamb. What joy to have those that are flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone, made like unto the angels to share with us the resurrection of the just and life everlasting.

THE OLD VILLAGE GREEN.

THE Old Village Green! 'tis a magical sound!

There's a charm in the words that makes my heart bound;
But the thrill of delight doth blend with a sigh,
And the smile at my heart with the tear in my eye.
'Twas there, in the freshness and morning of life,
With mind yet unschool'd by the world and its strife-
'Twas there, with my playmates, I hail'd the glad scene,
And shouted for joy on the Old Village Green.

To that favor'd spot we would haste, one and all,
To raise high the kite, and to strike up the ball;
And the shout of wild glee as it swept through the air,
Came fresh from the heart, unclouded by care.
When school time was over, how blithely we'd start,
With a cheering "huzza," and a quick throbbing heart;
And he who was first at that eager-sought scene,
Was chief of the game on the Old Village Green.

At last Hope appear'd with its glittering beam,
And beckon'd me forth on the world's broad stream;
Then I launch'd my bark from the smiling shore,
Nor thought of the rocks and shoals in store.
Long years have roll'd on with unvarying course,
And brought in their train both joy and remorse;
Some joy, and more sorrow, by turns have I seen,
Since I gambol'd a boy, on the Old Village Green.
Blest haunts of my boyhood! you'll ne'er be forgot-
The moss-cover'd barn, and the vine-trellis'd cot;
The broken old stile, where I've sat with delight,
And watch'd the sweet lark take her heavenward flight.
As I think of them ever my heart throbs with pain,
For I feel I shall never more see them again;
But dear as they were, yet they have not been
So ardently loved as the Old Village Green!

THE GUARDIAN:

A Magazine Devoted to the Interests of Young Meu and Ladies.

WE have all heard and read a great deal about garrets. The pitiable story of poor poets and geniuses sighing out their breath, and burning out their brains, in lonely garrets, has been told us; and we have wept over the tale of their unrewarded merit, and grown angry at the ungrateful and stupid world, which, like the Grecian cities of old who starved Homer while he lived and sought to glorify themselves by claiming his birth-place when he was dead, only awakes to a sense of its mercies when it has wickedly cast them away. Then, too, we have heard of poor widows, or the wives of drunken husbands, stowed in garrets, plying the needle, and wasting themselves away in monotonous, weary, and painful toil, to procure bread for their dependent little ones lying asleep around them in happy ignorance of the bitter, bitter cup of poverty's woes. This kind of garrets, however, is confined to cities. Our theme, however, pertains to a country garret. What a difference! In no way is the country like the city. As God made the one, and man the other, how can they be alike. The people are different, the houses are different, even the dogs are different-compare the spindle-shanked city spaniel with the well-built and substantial farm-house dog-they are no more alike than the street poplar is like the mighty country oak. In short nothing in the cities is just what it is in the country. We are therefore led to this, as to a necessary conclusion, that country garrets are not like city garrets.

Let actual investigation settle the question. You shall go with us into the garret "at our house"-for we always go into it when we make a visit home. Now observe closely, and let not your supposed familiarity with all things that pertain to a garret betray you into carelessness. Open the door at the head of the stairs. Do you not feel and hear, as you put your foot down upon the first step, that you are entering the

garret? There is no sounds in the silence. -but the outside is.

carpet on the stairs-hark, how your foot-tread Observe the inside of the door-it is not painted In fact there is nothing painted, after you pass the outside of the garret door.

The subject here requires a digression. Do not say that our forefathers were hypocrites who made clean the outside of the platter, to make a fair show before the faces of men, and therefore they painted the outside and not the inside of the garret door You do them great injustice by such a wicked, censorious, and uncharitable thought. To convince you of this, you shall go over the whole premises and assure yourself that in all things did our ancestors pay chief attention to the inside of things. Look at that barn, respectable enough it is true on the outside, but its chief glory is within. See the hay-lofts, see the grain mows, see the oats chests, see the well filled racks, see the sleek and well fed horses, the contented and cared-for kine, and the round, woolly sheep, the pudding like chickens, and the plump, waddling, independent, consequential geese. Look at the farm house from the outside; it is neatly plain and hath an air of comfort, that is true; but it has not the city flourishes of architecture along the eves, and over the doors; nor has it the name of the owner upon the glistening plate with the silver knocker and the lion's head over it-nor do snowy and purple curtains beautify one another in the windows. But go in-see! all is well enough-better than you expected-not so? go into the cellar and peep into the meat barrels, milk crocks, butter crocks, cheese crocks, potato piles, turnip piles, beet piles, apple piles-all well enough, is it not?-all neat, clean, and plenteous. Go into the kitchen-for the country people are not ashamed of their kitchens, and do not keep them as places which cannot be seen without a death-stroke to their reputation for cleanliness— go into the kitchen, examine the cupboards; the dishes have no marks of the dish-rag's greasy swab over them; every thing inside and outside, looks as clean and bright as a new dollar from the mint, and you can eat with as much relish after you have seen the kitchen as before; yea, we believe your appetite will increase. Go through the rooms, examine the corners, are they all clean enough? look under the beds, and see whether the dirt and dust have been swept thither in order to be out of sight! In short, make the acquaintance of the plain looking farmer, and of his tidy, rosy house-wife, and see whether there is not more genuine kindness and hospitality in their hearts than there is vain show about the house.

Having now, as we believe effectually routed and forever put to shame the wicked thoughts of your heart in regard to the supposed hypocrisy of our ancestors, let us return to the garret stair-door, from which an uncharitable suggestion has diverted us. Now bethink thyself, and see whether there may not appear to be another, a better, and a truer reason why the inside of the garret door is not painted? Can you not suppose that it may have been economy? This is always a virtue; and at the time this house was built the family were only beginners in life. The farm was not yet all paid for and a rising family was growing up around them. At that time too the old-fashioned notion that men ought to pay their debts and be honest was still in vogue; and they believed that the price of so much paint would be better applied to their creditors

1857.]

The Garret.

131

than to the inside of the garret door. You, our critical reader, if you are of a certain class, we feel an inward inspiration to deal plainly with your stuck up captiousness. We hope that no offence is committed against the laws of charity, when we suppose that you are one of those who feel it to be the privilege and mission of their lives in a worthless manner to spend the money which your hard-working economical parents have gathered for you, and then to turn up your useless noses at those staid and steady ancestors whose descendants you are not worthy to be. Yes, you-you, could paint the inside of the garret stair-door with money that you never earned, and which you are not fit to possess.

But now bringing this little battle at the garret door to a conclusion, we proceed up stairs. When we pass the first flight, and turn on the platform, we shall have railing again to help us along; but it is not a smooth hand-rail, like in the story below; rather it is a cheap framework of plained laths running up, and round the entire pit a kindhearted and thoughtful precaution to keep the children from getting a fearful fall. Rather a low place here at the turn; and where, as a boy, we could whirl round erect, we now find it necessary to incline both head and body considerably in order to pass clear of rafters and roof. This reminds us that there are other places where we have since found that it is more easy to get along as boy than as man.

Having with some difficulty made our way up, and standing finally upon the broad floor, let us look around-this is the garret. There are the small low windows at either end, but there is light enough to see all that is to be seen. Yonder, along the heavy sloping chimney are ranged the salt barrels-not exactly barrels, but something of the same kind made out of thick hollow gum logs, sawed about three feet long, with one end nailed shut with boards. They must be many many, years old, and were made in the primitive times when barrels were not as plenty as they are now. They carry us back to the good old days of ancestorial economy. What objection, we earnestly ask, even now, can you have to them are they not even better adapted to their use than any barrels which the cooper can make? "True enough," says the smart young man, "but they are very old-fashioned." For this saying, were we not restrained by our exuberant good nature, we would fall upon you with a withering rebuke, saying: "It is well for you that your ancestors were more old-fashioned than you are, or you would not have a cent to spend, or a shoe to put on your wayward feet!"

Do you see above your head, here and there, batches of boards laid together upon the collar-beams? Do you know what that means? That is the place where the chestnuts, and shellbarks, and hazelnuts are spread to dry; and they are put up so high partly on account of the mice, and partly on account of the boys who come up hither to get salt for the cattle. "Lead us not into temptation." It is better for the nuts and better for the boys that they should not be too conveniently at hand. Christmas is the time when, by common consent, those boards are to yield up their treasures. Be patient, boys, till then-get your salt and go your way, repeating, for the purpose of strengthening your moral courage, the tenth commandment.

There is really a very pleasant fragrance, like the smell of autumn, spread over the garret. Can you guess what it is? See yonder, tied

morial that each boy-young gentleman they are called in the citiesin bunches, and suspended all along the rafters, do you not see the herbs and the teas from the garden, the fields, the meadows, the woods and the mountains. There is the bone-set, the penny-royal, the life-everlasting, the sarsaparilla, the snake-root, the elder-blossom, the dock, the wormseed, the tansey, the thyme, the camomile, and a dozen others "too tedious to mention." They give forth a delightful odor, and they make good tea-that is, tea that is good for all sorts of ailings; and the careful, considerate housewoman knows exactly what they are good for. Even the Doctor has confessed that these herb teas are good; and though he did it in a way which seemed to indicate his indifference in regard to the use of such teas, yet he did clearly say that "in some cases they can be given with good results," and the house-woman believes it-indeed she believed it firmly before he said so, and she would believe it if he had not said so. Are not their virtues well known? When was that garret without its bundles of herbs? From the days of old, from ancient times, from the years of many generations, have those herbs been there ready for use, and often have they been used with success. To say all in one word, and to silence forever all doubt and prejudice, permit us to proclaim the truth, saying: Those herbs grew in the world before the Egyptian "physicians embalmed Israel." Gen. 50: 2. And before ever the son of Sirach said, "Honor a physician with the honor due unto him for the uses which ye may have of him." Eccl. 38. Let this forever set at rest the controversy concerning herb teas.

There are

But time would fail us to describe all the interesting objects that make up the store of the garret's peculiar furniture. There is a pair of stag horns, wide-forked and with many antlers, the fleet owner of which had been shot by "grand-father" when father was a boy. There is a curiously figured powder horn that was used in the war. hats many, shoes many, and all kinds of leather straps, buckles, bridle bits and other fragments, too good to throw away, and yet it is difficult to divine what use can ever be made of them. It is however a feeling not to be despised, which disinclines us hastily to cast away that which once was useful to us. The same tender clinging to the old and good which leads to the preservation of these old relics on the garret, suggest also that an old horse be not shot as soon as he is worn out, but turned to leisure out the end of life in the meadow. Yea, we verily believe that it is only a higher grade of the very same feeling which keeps us from pushing our parents to one side when, on account of age and infirmity, another spirit would regard them rather as a trouble, than as a pleasure. It is not our conviction that the tendency at present is toward too much respect for what is old, and therefore we do not deliver ourselves as of that opinion, but rather we are inclined to the contrary judgment. this reason also it is rather with pleasure than with disaffection that we see that motley medley of antiquated things in the corner of the garret.

For

On the collar-beams hang the saddles with the girths and stirrups hanging down, with each one's corresponding bridle in an orderly way on a peg beside it. But why are there so many of them? That this mystery may be explained, be it known that "each of the larger boys" has his own saddle; for it has been the custom and law from time imme