The bold wizzard mocker swells
In keen notes that cling
Round the brain like fire,
It's loud clear melodious spells.

Until all the air

Is one harmonie,

And the winds put music on,

And the echoes bear

Up the twice told glee,

Until fainter-more faint it is gone.

XII.

A crusty old gray-beard this winter must be
When a maiden comes after,

With her blithe songs and laughter,
And wooes him

And sues him,

T' tarry and travel with her,

To be hurried and flurried

And mightily worried,

To collect his blue-noses and go.

And sure a miscief maiden this Spring must be
To love an old Crusty so.

XIII.

Go where he will,

She follows him still,

Over far mountain and forest and dale,

Healing with love where he wounds with hate;

With gentle breath quelling his stormy rail,
Then tarrying awhile till the song-bird's mate

And the chiding call of the wedded quail
Is telling slow summer he cannot wait
To haste and hide his low nest in her veil.
Then sure and swift as the pinions of fate,

Sweeps on once again till the creaking wail

Out from the ice-coated woods tells the tale, How the old fellow is lording in state.

Again her kiss thaws through his frosty mail, Again she strews flowers where he had strewn hail. Till routed and scouted

While all the earth shouted,

In a terrible fright

The old fellow takes flight,

Clang! clanging away on his sleety wings,
Nor dares he to alight

Till he comes where long night

Her sable curtain o'er dreary land flings.

CHAPTER VI.

DRAGGING THE SEINE;

OR, A FISH FRY IN KENTUCKY.

FIFTEEN years ago, a Kentucky fish-fry was one of the oc casions to date from. Like the New England clam bakes, they were characteristic local scenes, in which you saw more of the heart of the people in a few hours, than you might, under other circumstances, in years.

We had other out-door festivals, to be sure, which were equally characteristic of time, place and people, but they were more public and miscellaneous-such as the barbecue, which was usually given in honor of some political person or event, and to which all classes were invited to join in festivities on a grand scale, and when oxen were roasted whole.

Then there was the bran dance, which—commencing with the barbacued feast-wound up with a grand dance upon the rolled earth, sprinkled with bran beneath the arbors—and in which everybody, high or low, participated with a reckless abandon of jollity. The confused jumble of all classes in this rude festival, made it more an occasion for roystering fun than refined enjoyment, and although forty years ago they were participated in by our ladies, and I remember well hearing my aunt and mother tell, many times, of dancing with the young Harry Clay at the bran dance, yet they gradually fell into disuse by the more refined.

By the way, I shall never forget the first picture of Mr. Clay at one of these dances, as drawn by my mother to my eager and boyish questioning. He was then, for the first time, a candidate for the Legislature, and, of course, very youthful, and "dressed like a young demagogue," as she laughingly used to say, in the home-made jeans cloth woven by the wives of the farmers of Kentucky.

It was considered that this dress was to propitiate the stout dames and ruddy-cheeked daughters of his constituents; and as the gentlemen of that day were excessively fastidious in their dress, and wore it of English cloth, and much more ornate and rich than now-a-days, the plainness of Mr. Clay's garb was laughed at among the young people of his own class, as an affectation. Nothing regardful of their sneers, the youthful politician, with his tall, thin figure, his graceful bow and fascinating smile, glided among the people, triumphantly winning everywhere the frank suffrages of simple and honest hearts.

They laughed, but he won-and a suit of that same Kentucky jeans has, since, consistently graced many a high position and noble circle, proudly worn by the older "demagogue" (perhaps?) in testimonial of his respect for that homely and honest constituency. It was, then, something of a sharp joke among the social peers of the rising politician, to accuse him of playing the demagogue in this earliest and manly expression of his preference for that home protective policy, which has now become one of the chiefest and most honorable distinctions of the great statesman's reputation.

While these more important festivals had all a political or public end, the fish-fry was entirely a social affair; a gathering of friends and equals for the purposes of out-door enjoyment. The event was usually talked of for a week or so, and, on one occasion which I particularly remember, the invitations to attend had been circulated by a sort of freemasonry, known among the elect, the responsible source of

which it would have been difficult to trace directly, though the fact that a large spring near the plantation of one of our well-known, hospitable, country gentlemen, had been selected as the scene of the festival, was quite endorsement enough on that score.

The

Before the arrival of the important day, all the minor preparations of gallantry had been made, the various parties of young men and girls having paired off, for the ride out to the spring-which was seven miles distant-and satisfactorily adjusted all other preliminaries, for the occasion. gentry of both sexes from the town, and from the principal plantations for miles around, commenced gathering from every direction, and at an early hour on the auspicious morning, moved towards the place of meeting.

The party of which I made one, consisted of four or five of the gayest and handsomest girls of our town of Hwith gallants "to match "—if I may be permitted the modest insinuation! Most of us were mounted on the dashing and spirited saddle-horses peculiar to our State, and, with the fearless command of accustomed riders, we gave way to our hilarious mood, and kept them up to their metal. Our girls usually ride with a boldness and a skill approached only by the daughters of the English country gentlemen. Those who preferred a more staid gait, fell back with the rear guard of the party, which consisted, principally, of elderly gentlemen, the fathers of these young girls, and other gray-haired citizens who yet loved fun and good things.

It was a delicious spring morning, and our hearts bounded merrily with the elastic movement of our horses. Our road was literally over flowers, for the "barrens," through which we swept, form the richest natural gardens in the world-far more varied and chastely beautiful than the prairies. The feet of our horses were stained at every stride with the red juice of wild strawberries, that crouched in luscious clusters beneath the tinted shadows of the over-hanging flowers, and the fresh, soft breeze bore up to us the delicate aroma of