Brook Farm

hat there ever was in New England a body of men and women who for so long a time, maintained such friendly and intimate relations, and yet kept up such an interminable fire of small fun and jok

painted on it by one of the young ladies; putting parsnip ends into his study lamp for wicks, etc. But these are not to be classed with the fun that was present of the genuine sort. There were

day. "Why," queried one, "are those children like native A

ter?" "Not a bit of one, th

ed fellow opposite?" said one. "He is

ends meet," said one. "You may stake y

Yes, I know it; she goes by steam--self 'st

hat "the larger the kettle the more tin it would have." "And the more iron in (g), too!" some one would ejaculate. Then another would say that "after sh

as a pump, "Is it well with it?" If it was a shepherd, they would like to inquire "if he was not a baa-keeper?" and the first would reply that he w

inquiry. "It had a hooked end," said number one. "I have not seen it," was the re

o her friend, "Isn't he a little honey?" "Yes," she

? She bows to perfection." "Yes; but s

old man?" (The name of the boat was "the Dart.

e day to me when I put something unusual in the swine's mess, "the hogs will all die after it!" with a most serious look on his pleasant face. In my

ry to have a quorum to pass certain important votes, and one of the members, being a trifle weary of business, had stepped out to converse with a friend in the vestibule. After a while, hearing

u there, you

ou fare

t for rede

since bee

impromptu or whether it was part of one of the inspiring Sunday hymns our grandfathers sang

wretches s

we ye

ess, 'tis a

s us up f

een the one Mr.

to any one else. It is certainly not an unhappy frame of mind, and I am not aware that it indicates any depraved condition. I don't know of any very bad men who make puns, but I have known of many

f our criminals who profess they committed the deed because they "couldn't help it," or the boy who was asked angrily "why he whistled?" "He didn't," he replied, "it whistled itself." I imagine our literary friend thinks that a punster draws the steel blade of his intellec

rigid zone quicker than a telegram goes. If you hold on to it, you will find yourself in both places in a jiffy, and back again to the

seeking a modern El Dorado, but they did not carry with them the lust for gold. They were seeking something which, had they found the realization of, would have carried peace to troubled hearts, contentment and joy to all conditions and classes. They were builders, not destroyers. They

s of harmony; that we had gone back from the uncertain and flimsy foundations of present society, and placed our corner stone on the eternal rock of science and justice; that the social laws God ordained from

wronged no man. I have this day worked for my race, I have let all my little plans go and have worked on the grand plan that the Eternal Father has intended shall sometime be completed. I feel that I am in harmony with Him. Now I know He is truly our Father. With an unending list of crimes and social wrongs staring me in the face I doubted, and my heart was cast down. Now the light is given me by which I see the way through the labyrinth! It is our Father's beautif

ll things come to you, and wouldn't you chirrup like a bird, and buzz like a bee, and turn imaginary somersaults and dance and sing, and feel like cutting up "didoes," and talk a little high strung, and be chipper with the lowliest and l

he associates there were leading a just life, and could go to their labor, hard beds and simple fare-down to plain bread and sometimes mythical butter-with cheerfulness just in proportion as

ds, that Mr. Dwight gave the toast, "Here's to the c

f securing the funds and bringing them home for use. Somewhere about nine o'clock in the evening the dwellers at the "Hive" were disturbed by the approach of a team and the groans of a person. Go

wagon, unable to rise, and the horse had come home of his own accord. This is the outline of the story. Parties went out on the road with lanterns, but found no lost pocket-book. The news of the robbery

elling that morning through Muddy Pond woods, in a thick part of which he had seen-what? Why, a shirt hanging on the bushes to dry; and had heard voices in the woods near. He

t there was any danger in the affair. A party of volunteers, consisting of some six or eight, was formed, and the valuable Glover placed himself at our head. "By the by," said he, as we were about to start, "I'll go and borrow Mr. Shaw's pist

arty on their tramp. As I remember it, there were some four of us who

lassic locks and natural beards-those who had any-with our unique tunics or blouses, with a certain regular quaintness running through them, were picture

given new zest to country life. We straggled by the roadside; we sought wild berries; we observed the varieties of foliage and flower, and conversation never flagged. Glover and Hero were ever in earnest talk. The

was a tender spot in him that I did not venture on, although I knew it was there. He was

ay or night. All along the way we breathed health and vitality; the air was full of singing birds, and our hearts were crying out, "What is so rare as a day in June?" In fact, our June days lasted longer t

and behold, I see it! It is a white thing hanging on a bush! Yes! And listen, I hear voices! It is the robbers! Why, no, these are only children's voices! They are picking berries, the dear things. Poor children! Don't you know t

otten. Come, boys, we are sold! What an old goose that fellow was to get us out here for such a thing as this! I am going home! I

knock down a wild apple or two, to try if they contained, as Emerson has said of one of them, "a pint of cider and a barrel of wind"; whipping off the heads of the wild daisies with our canes and switches; pulling sprigs

had not been served with dinner. The "Waiting Group" was one of the most cheerful, lively, witty and jolly groups on the place.

hunger; but the merry cheer was indescribable. It was the Professor (Dana) who sat at the head of the board. It was the brilliant and witty "Timekeeper" (Cabot) who was at one side, and when our party was added to them-"the Hero" (

wer in parliamentary language, but parried wit with wit, fun with fun, joke with joke. The story had to be told and embellished. The shirt, it was nothing but a rag, and the childr

he had "popped" the robber would there have been any pop-bier (beer) there? "If I had killed him," he said, "there wouldn't have been any sham pain." Pooh, pooh, you could only have hocked him! "I would have made him whine anyhow." You might have made him whine but-"Wine butt," did you say? (Int

ersonality dropped out of them--with the connection unbroken; with youth, friendship and love to join them together, and all the surroundings in keeping, were lively and bright, and added a glow to the toil that made all