SUMMER. 55 



So saying, he unhitched a corrugated shackle -jointed steed, and backed 

 around his indescribable impromptu covered wagon — a sort of a hybrid 

 between a " one-hoss shay " and a truck. 



" 'Tain't much of a kerridge fer city folks to ride in, that's a fact," he 

 continued, " but I cal'late it's a little better'n shinnin' it." After some lit- 

 tle manoeuvring in the way of climbing over the front seat, we were soon 

 wedged in the narrow compass, and, with an old horse-blanket over our 

 knees, we went rattling down the hill toward the village and home of my 

 boyhood. 



Years have passed since those days when, as a united family, we dwelt 

 under that old roof; but those who once were children are now men and 

 women, with divided interests and individual homes. The old New Eng- 

 land mansion is now a homestead only in name, known so only in recol- 

 lections of the past and the possibilities of the future. 



" Wa'al, thar's the old house," presently exclaimed Amos, as we neared 

 the brow of a declivity looking down into the valley below. " Don't look 

 quite so spruce as't did in the old times, but Warner's a good keerful ten- 

 ant, 'tain't no use talkin'. I cal'late yeu might dig a pleggy long spell 

 afore yeu could git another feller like him in this 'ere patch." 



In the vale below, in its nest of old maples and elms, almost screened 

 from view by the foliage, we look upon the familiar outlines of the old 

 mansion, its diamond window in the gable peering through the branches 

 at us. " Skedup !" cried Amos, as he urged his pet nag into a jog-trot 

 clown the hill, through the main street of the town. The long fence in 

 front of the homestead is soon reached, a sharp turn into the drive, a 

 " Whoa, January !" and we are extricated from the wagon. 



" Wa'al, I'll leave ye naow. I guess ye kin find yer way around," 

 said Shoop, as with one outlandish geometrical stride he lifted himself 

 into the wagon. Cordially greeted by our hostess, with repeated urgings 

 to " make ourselves at home," we were shown to our room. The house, 

 though clad in a new dress, still retained the same hospitable and cosy 

 look as of old. 



Hometown, owing to some early local faction, is divided into two sec- 

 tions, forming two distinct towns. One, Newborough, a hill-top hamlet, 

 with its picturesque long street, a hundred feet in width, and shaded with 

 great weeping elms that almost meet overhead ; and the other, Hometown 

 proper, a picturesque little village in the valley, cuddling close around the 

 foot of a precipitous bluff, known as Mount Pisgah. A mile's distance 



