unpleasant nature was in store for me. "I do not know whether he was stolen or whether he strayed away; but at all events he has been found, my dear," replied Mrs. S. "Where did they find him, Mrs. S.?" said I, feeling a little nervous. "In the Pound!" replied Mrs. Sparrowgrass, with a quiet, but impressive accent on the last word. "In the pound!" I echoed, "then, Mrs. S., we will leave him in the hands of the village authorities." "Bless me!" replied Mrs. S., "I had him taken out immediately, so soon as I heard of it. not have your horse kept in the for everybody to make remarks upon? He is in the stable, my dear, and as fat as ever; the man that keeps him said it would do you good to see him eat the first day he got back. You will have to pay a pretty nice bill, though.

fees of the pound-master, and the

Why you would pound, my dear,

There are the

damages to the

Rev. Mr. Buttonball, for breaking into his carrot patch, where he was found, and then you will have to get a new saddle and bridle, and ".

"Mrs. Sparrowgrass," said I, interrupting the catalogue of evils, by putting up my hand with the palm turned toward her like a monitor, "Mrs. S., there are times when trifles occupy too conspicuous

ADVERSITY'S SWEET MILK. 159

a position in the human mind. Few people lose their night's rest from a superabundance of joy, but many suffer from a species of moral nightmare. Do not let this matter, then, give you any more uneasiness." Mrs. Sparrowgrass said it did not give her any uneasiness at all. "If this wretched animal is again upon our hands, we must make the best of him. While I was away, I heard in the country there was a prospect of oats not being able to keep up this winter. Next year we can put him out to pasture. I also learn that a new and fatal disease has broken out among horses lately. We must hope, then, for the best. Let us keep him cheerfully, but do not let us be haunted with him. He is, at least, a very nice looking animal, my dear. Excuse me a moment

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which we cannot destroy.'

You had, at least, the pleasure of riding after him once; and I had the pleasure of hearing that he was stolen-once. Perhaps somebody may take a fancy to him yet, Mrs. Sparrowgrass.'

CHAPTER XII.

Our New Barber-Reminiscences of our Old Barber-A Dog of another ColorOctober Woods-A Party on the Water-Home, Sweet Home, with Variations (flute obligato)-A row to the Palisades-Iroquois Legend-Return to the Cottage.

WE have gotten a new barber in the village. It is a good thing to have a barber in the country. You hear all the news, all the weddings, the engagements, the lawsuits, and other festive matters, in his aromatic shop. Our former Master Nicholas has left us suddenly. "Maese Nicolas, quando barbero, del mismo pueblo." We miss him very much. I used to admire his long and learned essay upon the 'uman 'air. The 'uman 'air, for want of capillary attraction, could not maintain its place upon the 'uman 'ead, without the united juices of one hundred and fifty-five vegetables. So long as he devoted himself to procuring the necessary vegetables, and hung his argument upon a hair, he did

OUR NEW BARBER.

161

very well. It was pleasant to doze under his glib fingers and his vegetative philosophy. But unfortunately he got into politics. Barbers usually have excitable temperaments. The barber of our village became the softest of the softs. He was ready to argue with anybody, and everybody, in his "garden of spices."

One day while I was under his tuition, at the end of a prolonged debate with one of his sitters, by way of clinching his point, he did me the honor of tapping me twice upon the cranium with the back of his hair-brush. "Sir," said he (tap), "I tell you that is so" (heavy tap). In consequence, I predicted his speedy downfall. Sure enough, he laid a wager that his candidate would have a majority in our village over all the rest of the candidates, and the next election only gave his candidate two votes. Next day our barber was missing. Public vandalism had crushed him.

We have procured a new barber. He is in the dyeing line of business. It is the color, not the quantity of hair, that engages all his lubricating efforts. To convert the frost of age into a black or brown scalp is the highest ambition of his genius. Not only that he anticipates time, and suggests

preventive treatment to younger men. is excessively tiresome.

To me he

I have bought me a new dog. A snow-white terrier, with rose-colored ears and paws. She is as white as new-plucked cotton, or February clouds. All our other dogs, Jack, Zack, and Flora, are black; Juno, by contrast, looks strikingly white. One day, I found four black dogs under the porch. Of the four, I should say Juno was the blackest. She had been to the barber's on a visit, and he had given her a coat of his confounded Praxitiles balNow she is growing out of it, but her present appearance is so repulsive the other dogs will not associate with her. Some day I mean to give that barber a talking to about the matter.

sam.

Who that loves nature can forsake the country in October? Before the leaves fall, before "the flying gold of the woodlands drive through the air," we must visit our old friends opposite-the Palisades. We must bring forth our boat once more, and "white-ash it" over the blue river to the "Chimneys." "What do you think of it, Mrs. Sparrowgrass?" Mrs. S. replied, she was willing. So, then, on Saturday, if the weather be fair, we will make our final call upon them. The weather