FROM MY LIBRARY WINDOW.
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��where he filled various offices of trust and responsibility.
Above the " shop " a majestic elm stretches its leafless branches, and in the wind they give forth a plaintive tone — mayhap the requiem for the departed greatness of the building over which they exercise a sort of protecting care.
At a short distance from, and, as we sit, to the left hand of the " old school house," is a square structure, two sto- ries in height and very low posted. Along its front and westerly end ex- tends a broad piazza, whose roof is upheld by five pillars, representing neither of the great orders of archi- tecture — plain, wooden columns, devoid of all ornamentation. From the same end projects a long wood- shed, adjoining which is an immense barn. The house once rejoiced in a coat of white paint, but time and storm have mostly worn it off, and the clapboards show a decisive wood col- or. The easterly extremity, however, is painted red. The panels of the front door are yellow, edged with black. Between the house and the highway is a large yard, the most prominent object in which is a chain pump.
How long ago the foundation of this dwelling was laid is uncertain — an hundred years at least. A half century since the upper story and out-buildings were added ; and, from that time, for many years, it had a wide reputation as " Purinton's tav- ern." In the rtwA'-railroad days it was well patronized — located as it was on the direct route from Vermont to Boston.
" Uncle Elijah." the quondam land- lord, is still alive — a gray-haired octo- genarian — and delights to tell of the ancient time, when the six-horse teams were proudly driven to his door, when the first thing attended to by the Jehus, on their arrival, was the slaking of their thirst at the bar. No gilded mirrors or sparkling cut glass met their gaze, nor were the beverages called by fanciful names ; but the
��liquors were pure, and were drank with a zest.
In the hall, over and running the entire length of the woodshed afore- mentioned, the aged and the young were wont often to congregate and " trip the light fantastic toe." There was no orchestra of skilled musicians ; frequently there was but a single "fid- dler," who rasped away on a squeaky instrument. And the " figures " then danced taxed the physical energy as well as the skill of those who engaged in them. They were exempt from all suggestion of unwarrantable freedom between the " partners," and were, un- doubtedly, more heartily enjoyed than are Terpsichorean amusements now-a- day.
Had the walls of " Purinton's tavern" ears and tongues, what scenes of jollity could they rehearse. Alas ! the fabulous epoch has passed.
On the opposite side of the highway from the hostelry, and nearer the an- cient school-house, stands a cottage. Nothing about its exterior would hold one's attention, unless, perhaps, to the extent that he who looked upon it might say : " If it were mine, I would have the old thing painted," — and, assuredly, its tawny hue is far from pleasing to the eye.
A few months since a newly-married couple moved into this house. No young husband and wife were ever more devoted to each other than were these two. nor was there ever a couple whose prospects for future prosperity and happiness fairer. A babe was born to them, and two weeks later the mother died, leaving the husband and father nearly distracted wilh grief.
Why mention so every-day an occur- rence ? You laugh, weep, exult, la- ment, according to the varying situa- tions of the principal characters of some romance that you read. Does the most thrilling work of fiction that has been written — can any novel that will be written contain essentials other than life, love, death ? The minor circumstances admit of infinite varia- tions, as do the pictures formed in a
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