melody, like the winding horn of the hunter, a they came circling across the still lake of th summer air. And all these sounds commingl mysteriously with other sounds, and agai with one another, so that in such a place and at such an hour, the sensitive and contempla tive soul lapses into a mood of the profoundes worship.

Trudging thoughtfully home again at night fall, the sun throwing level beams across the landscape and lodging them in the tops of the trees, and the shadows deepening in the grassy lanes and damp lowland reaches, it rises in every one's thought that this one day out in the pastures has been the crown of all the days of the year. Not often does it indeed come round, whole and entire like this, in a single season; but still it holds its fixed place, like the sweet Pleiades in the heavens, in the calendar of every passing year.

Jaded and fagged, unable to go one step further, almost reeling and stumbling into the house, the excursionists finally bring in their berries and set them down on the table, and

are ready for bed as soon as they have eaten their frugal supper. ちん

Is there sweet sleep dispensed for the blessed anointing of mortal lids, by any of " the drowsy

s of the world," like this which rests on irits of the tired huckleberry party?

n even childhood throw itself into the of the drowsy god with a perfecter trust sability to bless with the single blessing 00 weary to ask for?

IT.

who strives to domesticate his sentiment and give them a genuine home expression. The inhabitant of Constantinople does not seek a like realization of his desires with the native of the Swiss Valley, or of the green slopes of Eng lish Kent. The dweller among the breezy New England hills nurses a very different sentiment concerning Home from his congener around the bayous of Louisiana, or more directly under the suns of the tropics. Hence the Northern house wears another aspect, and has entirely distinct belongings from that of any other latitude and location. The climatic needs being peculiar, the sentiment that springs out of them must, perforce, correspond.

May it not be accepted as an universal truth, that the love of Home exists nowhere, and is incapable of actual expression, except it is first caught wild from Nature, and shut down under ridge-poles and sheltering eaves and roofs? Is

ment to home best bred in caves and

Can Nomads be called home-loving? owfeet and Flatheads know by experience e domestic sentiments and virtues?

th the Home goes the Barn; that is a r altogether of course. Hovels do not re barns as domestic complements; but es, with low roofs and broad hearths, do. Barn is as much an object of interest as welling, and the life that swarms and is red in the one bears very close relationto that which hives in the other. The husbandman who fodders his sheep and within the snug enclosures of his barn home, grows more attached to them than merely knew they were browsing miles the woods, or straggling without aim s vast prairie lands, and here and there ng at exposed hay-stacks. This love, too, mes a personal affair, and, by its operation, profounder love of locality and home is and developed. If the man of New Engmigrates, it is only for better land and, efore, a better HOME; but the man of Tenee and Mississippi moves farther on, that may own a thousand ACRES, in lieu of his ent three hundred.

is a fair study of the growth of sentiment

and taste, to look about the country and se how farmers place their barns; they may estimated pretty well by so slight a token. can go and put my hand on many and man a broad barn-door, that discloses an interi view pat before the home windows. Concer ing the use and value of barns, their hone owners hold the right idea, but happen to b lamentably deficient in taste; and, no doub would frankly admit that they cared not a wis of hay about it. They assume what is tru -that the barn is the workshop of the farm establishment, where all labor and profit begin and ends; and hence, like men who love thei money-bags best of all things, they want th workshop where they can see it; and even per mit the tyrannical sense of smell to becom subordinate, where it should have its way un challenged. Then, too, they would have thei place of business as handy to the door as may be; like the shoemaker, with his plaything of a shop right in the L of his house, or the doctor, whose instruments, jars, and saddle bags lie kicking about like ordinary household trumpery.

There are two sorts of barns, now-a-days the Commercial, and the Picturesque. Mechi, of London, writes overpoweringly of the for