If this identical implement had been turned into a dozen good broad-swords, in these "piping times of peace," it would have hastened the Millennium, at least one generation, in the Meadow back of the Orchard.

What John Rogers-like families of infant mice were orphaned; what snug and cozy little homes were destroyed, no body can tell. If all ploughmen were poets, and all poets were Burns-es, and all Burns-es had sung,

"But, mousie, thou art not alane,

In proving foresight may be vain ;
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft a-gley,

An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy,"

it wouldn't mend the matter; it wouldn't turn back the turf, nor restore the wee ones to their "mither " again.

Two of the beautifully dappled eggs of the Meadow lark were brought in by one of the 'boys,' this morning, thus left without "a local habitation;" furnishing, so it seems to us, an admirable escapement for the overflowing philanthropy that renders so many people so very miserable. Wouldn't a nest for the nestless" society be just the thing! And if some

body, whose sympathies have been "wool-gathering" at the sources of the White Nile, would volunteer toI feel a delicacy about suggesting it-to-to hatch the eggs aforesaid, two innocents would be spared an untimely fate. They are wrapped in cotton-wool, awaiting orders. "References exchanged."

Fire has also been called into requisition, to finish the work commenced by the share. Hard by a brush-heap, a Quail had hidden her summer hopes sixteen spotless eggs-a cup full of pearls; within which, ere long, "Spiritual Rappings" should be heard, and a brood of life emerge, and skulk away, each with his cradle of a shell upon his back. The sad story is soon told; they set fire to the pile, that was to become a funeral-pyre; the brush sparkled and blazed, the logs kindled and glowed, but the bird, Phoenix-like, sat upon her nest. The flames surged around her, but when the dark volumes of smoke lifted, our bird was still there.' The red fire at last, drove over the nest; the very straws were lighted, and the mother whirled despairingly away with a cry of anguish, and was seen no more. Many a heart heaves the twin billows of Circassian bosoms to-day, neither so true nor so wrung, as the little morsel of irritable muscle in the breast of that Quail mother

Many a marble has been graven and set up over less worth. Many an eloquent tribute has been paid to the memory of a less melancholy fate.

"Our Defences."

WHO talks of arsenals and armories-of Colt's Revolvers and "Dupont's best," when, on this quiet farm, in this peaceful neighborhood, where every body believes in the New Dispensation, Elihu Burritt, and Universal Brotherhood, there are more weapons of war, aggressive and defensive, than ever followed the Roman Eagles to conquest?

Why, you can meet any where, gentlemen in black, who wear rapiers, that are whipped out upon cause the slightest I always give them a wide berth and whole communities of individuals, engaged in "the SUGAR trade," to say nothing of "the cotton line," that carry blades, Toledo-tempered every one of them, and make nothing of using them too.

Under that pile of plank, boards a WATCHMAN, one of Nature's own Charlies," springing a rattle that "Old Hays" would have patented, and flourishing a

case of lancets that Cooper would have coveted.

Chivalry is here; for gallant knights in long spurs, stalk about the yards, and challenge each other from the tops of the fences. A genius crept out of the grass yesterday, with shield and breast-plate, like an old Roman. It was, as if one should invert a huge shell card-basket, give it a serpent's head, an elephant's feet, and a lizard's "continuation," inscribe it all over with Chinese characters, and "let it run."

Every evening, a Worthy of the QUILL comes rustling out from under the barn; quills behind his ears; quills under his arms; in fact, a back-load of quills. A very pungent, pointed author is he, with his quills; has talent for a modern critic, would work for his board, and ought to be encouraged.

Go" across lots" to CHARLES', and you will catch glimpses of pairs of little heels without owners, twinkling in every direction: GOPHERS going for quarters. Unfitted for a field fight, too weak for a sortie, they are prepared to stand a siege in their subterranean fastnesses. Set your Sappers and Miners to unearth the Garrison, and they will find the fortress deserted and the Gophers gone; for they have a proverb among them-those Gophers-that has been rudely translated into English, thus: "There are more ways than one."

Do you see that glitter between the trees? It's a magnificent trinket, of which Nature has left a number hereabouts. It's a mirror, and how it came here, and all about it, is, as nearly as any body knows, in this wise. Some day or other, NATURE made her toilet here, preparatory to going out upon the Prairies; and while she was arranging her hair, putting on her flowered sandals, and letting down her broidered skirts, that she had gathered up as she crossed the Alleghanies, she caught a glimpse of the Prairie she had come to smile on, and forgot she was in dishabille, and left her "things"-mirrors, and flounces, and furbelows, and all-scattered about, and never thought of them again, for away she tripped and smiled.

Well, that glitter you see, is one of the "aids to reflection" she threw aside as she ran, and it was shattered into ever so many beautiful fragments, and among them is PINE LAKE, where, "an you will," we are this very instant. It's a sunny day; we, upon the margin of the Lake; the water, crystal; you, looking down. And looking, you see, lying motionless, a NAVIGATOR older than Noah or Jason, or any of those "outside barbarians;" a sailor whose forefishes were literally of the first water.'

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