corn -fields; the clamorous low of cattle 

 trooping in from outlying pasture-land; the 

 keen, hungry squealing of pigs unfed ; the 

 house-dogs barking in a dozen farmsteads ; 

 now and again a cock's crow breaking 

 through. Over all, accenting it into time 

 and tune, a ringing rhythm of axe-strokes 

 anear and afar. 



What a dear sound it is ! It brings the 

 sense of hearth and home, means sweet- 

 ness and light, and warmth and love. If 

 all the world and his wife could but sit by 

 a wood fire, what a lessening there would be 

 of the sum of human unhappiness. 



For is it not, indeed, the soul of good 

 cheer, made beautifully manifest in billow- 

 ing smoke? in leaping flame? red coals? nay, 

 even in clean, pearly ashes ? What treason, 

 stratagem, or spoil can endure its clear shin- 

 ing, or take hold upon a soul warm with its 

 vital heat! Envy, malice, and all uncharit- 

 ableness must evanish up the chimney. No 

 foul thing surely can abide the hearth-fire's 

 glow. 



Alack ! the sundown symphony is made 

 up, for the most part, of wailing minors, that 

 drown the cheery axe-strokeyea, bury it 

 out of hearing. Black dark is not so deso- 

 late as this cold twilight. It is more pitiless 



