Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland

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in the recesses of the soul, to spring into life at the touch of her magic wand. Here let us sit on this mossy stone, beneath this wide spread elm, and as its waving branches fan our feverish cheeks, fold back the dim, misty curtains of the past, the silent past, and hold communings with the years that are gone. Listen to the murmur of yonder rippling stream, that

to catch the gorgeous butterfly that floated through summer air on silken wings, and then cla

and the rustling of the leaves as they were stirred by the gentle summ

uch deep, broad shadows over so fair a landscape; little heeding that they were emblematical of the shadows that coming years would cast upon

d spot and wander over other sce

by the winds of heaven. Here, too, we gathered sweet blue violets, yellow buttercups, Ladies' traces and London pride, with all the beautiful variety of simple meadow flowers, and entwined them into pretty wreaths, or fragrant boquets. But the touch of time has rested upon this spot, and his finger has left a deep impress upon it. The sloping hills

ry sports, have literally passed away; having been shovelled up and transported to the various places for many miles arou

sound, requiring but one smooth round stepping stone for a bridge, we sigh and feel that the change of years is upon us, for here almost every thing speaks o

press this spot with childish footprints. This trunk was then a beautiful, stately tree, bearing its leafy honors thick upon it, and laden with delicious golden fr

change are

rom one part of it to the other. Let us follow the road up this steep aclivity, and enter the large capacious door-yard which contained several rods of land, and was s

nd the morning sun, as he parted the rosy curtains of the eastern sky and came forth rejoicing to run his glad race, and pour a flood of golden light upon the earth, shot his first crimson rays upon the thick curtains of morning glories that hung clustering over our window, fragrant with their verdant leaves, and rich purple blossoms, and causing the dew-drops to glisten like sparkling diamonds, while the sweet odors of many scented flowers were borne upon every passing breeze. But could we now recognize this spot? oh no! the destroyer has been there, and there remains no trace of herb or flower; an ell has been built on to that end of the house, and the barn has been moved, so that our be

dividing one into a sheep-pasture, the other into a large garden for the cultivation of winter vegetables. In the pasture used

ng houses have been erected, and the busy hum of active life there resound

lock, that rendered it a pleasant retreat from the scorching rays of the summer sun. The air was filled with the notes of the feathered songsters that built their nests and warbled in their branches, mingling their music with the rustling leaves and the murmur of the distant spring that rippled near, for a gradual descent brought us down to the spring lot, which, with the grove and the swamp that lay below, was used

for the weary children of eart

hronged with the busy crowd whose restless feet are bearing them swiftly on to the end of life's j

ad never yielded to cultivation, where we sometimes used to jump from one hillock to ano

it with her handy work. It has been drained; the brush cut from its surface, rich loam carted upon it, and now it presents the appearance of a well cultivated garden, is covered with luxuriant grass, and staked out into yards for the accommodation of families who wish to lie down s

and many of the buildings are the same; but, oh, how many and varied are the changes that strike the eye, and awaken in the breast ten thousand bewild

been pent up by a high dam, over which the water fell, over the bridge we are now cross

stood, what was ever called, the woods. Here, in their season, we gathered the largest whortleberries, the best walnuts, and the nicest black birch that were to be found all the country round. And when we had wearied our limbs, and fille

the distant thunder murmured behind their eternal summit. This stands the same, and as you glance down the other side, you see the broad, black river, still rolling at its base. But the woods--the bright green woods--where are they? Echo answers, "where?" Supplanting

rees under whic

. Well do I remember your cooling shade as I walked beneath it to the district school house, which was situated in one corner of the dear old orchard. There, too, h