Over the fields were scattered perhaps a hundred full-blooded South Down rams, ewes, and withers; the latter intended for mutton. The South Downs are the best mutton sheep in the world and also excellent wool producers.

After surveying these for a short time, we took a look at the Berkshire swine; fine hale-looking porkers, jet black, and almost too good to eat, we thought, on beholding a litter of young ones about four weeks old and worth even at that infant stage some five dollars a head. Still we could not refrain from the reflection that spring lamb is scarcely as delicate or appetizing a dish to the educated taste as roast pig-richly stuffed and with the savory odor of sage about it.

Of all the breeds, the Berkshires are foremost, and at the head of the porcine colony stands the boar, imported Eddystone IV., bred by the celebrated breeder Russell Swanwick.

John was not as much delighted with the pigs as with the other animals.

"There is no poetry about pigs," he remarked. "I think there is a great deal of poetry about roast pig," I replied; and he conceded that this was a phase of the matter worthy of consideration. Then he said rather irrelevantly, "I wonder what they will give us to eat in West Chester."

SCYTHE, SICKLE, AND JUG.

This reminded me that we must continue our journey; so, thanking Mr. Samuel J. Sharpless for his kindness and courtesy in showing us about his beautiful stock farm, we took our departure for the station.

The sun was sinking over the western hills when we arrived at West Chester, bathing the cozy little city with its dying rays.

Here we partook of a bountiful supper in which the rich cream, the sweet golden butter, and the red-ripe raspberries formed a prominent feature. Afterward, as we sat on the hotel-porch in the cool of the evening, thinking of all these things, John startled me by saying:

"I must leave you to night." "Why?"

"Well," he replied, "you are a bachelor, but with me it is otherwise. I am married, and there is a voice in my ear now, saying, 'John, it is time to come home.'"'"

"Indeed, you astonish me; this is very sudden." "True; but my wife is an energetic woman, and when I hear that voice I always feel like doing something sudden."

"Very well," I replied, "I will go with you, and in the morning I will take the Baltimore Central Road at the junction, and prospect along it until I stand on the banks of the noble Susquehanna. I found myself in a different frame of mind, however, when seated in the train. John immediately commenced to arrange himself for sleep.

"You are not going to sleep, are you?" I

"Indeed I am, for I'll not get a wink tonight."

"Don't bother," he said crossly, "I don't want to talk."

"All right, old fellow'," I responded, "I have changed my mind. There are several places I should like to visit in West Chester which quite escaped my recollection, so I will stay."

"I am glad of it," he yawned. "Good-bye." "Good-bye."

Then I left my artist friend to seek his Caudle

lecture, and got out of the car.

feet, and four stories high, with a basement. The elevated grounds on the summit of which it is situated are some five hundred feet above tidewater. They are neatly laid out in drives, walks, croquet and ball grounds, and ornamented with trees, shrubbery, and flowers. The school is for both sexes, and ruled with discerning wisdom. Self-government is regarded as the only true government; nothing will be required except that which a true sense of honor and self-respect would naturally demand from the individual, and any pupil whose influence is found to be vitiating will be at once removed from the school.

The course of instruction for the State Normal Schools of Pennsylvania, approved by the State authorities, embraces two distinct courses of study: the elementary course and the scientific course.

In pursuing the study of the sciences in a practical manner, a new laboratory has been provided, rendering the facilities for analytical chemistry very complete; the department is under the charge of a practical chemist, who has devoted years to this important branch. A full course in qualitative analysis, blowpipe analysis of minerals, etc., is given each term. The institution is also supplied with philosophical and chemical apparatus of the most approved kind, a large addition having been made within a year.

Lectures on natural science are given weekly throughout the course, and the museum contains a large and valuable collection of specimens, illustrating every department of this branch. It was commenced in the year 1826, and has been annually enriched with contributions from every portion of the world. The justly celebrated "Herbariums" of the late Dr. William Darlington and David Townsend, now in this museum, are conceded to be two of the most accurate and extensive private collections ever formed in this country.

A large room, thirty-six feet in length by thirtytwo feet in width has been fitted up for the display of this valuable collection, which will hereafter be more accessible to special students of science and natural history.

My time was limited in going over this institution, and with great reluctance I hurried away to the station, arriving just in time to catch the train for the Baltimore Junction. The farmers were harvesting their grain, stacks of sheaves dotted the closely-shaven fields on each side of the track,

while far away over the hills half the surface of some swelling slope would be golden yellow with the ripened grain while its other half was clothed in luxuriant green. It might have been warm in the rays of the sun outside, but on the whirling train, with windows and doors wide open, we enjoyed a refreshing breeze spiced with the perfume of fragrant fields.

Passing Concord, we stopped for a moment at Chadd's Ford, on the Brandywine. Here the unlucky battle was fought and Knyphausen amused our army with feints of crossing the ford until his chief had thrown the main body by detour upon our right at Birmingham. The outline of the works for defense may still be seen.

A short ride further on brought us to Fairville, and certainly a fair, thriving country surrounds this little ville. In about ten minutes more we reached Kennett Square, the chosen home of our great traveler, scholar, and poet, Bayard Taylor, who died not long ago. "Cedarcroft" is the name of the country-seat he loved so well. The mansion is a handsome one and the situation and surroundings are of great beauty. Here the widow of Mr. Taylor still resides.

• Some of the views along this route are astonishing for their beauty, and the broad green valleys are dotted with ferns. Passing Avondale, West Grove, and Penn, we stopped a minute or so at Lincoln University Station.

The Lincoln University was established for the higher education of colored men and is a noble undertaking worthy of patronage. Many persons have a singular yet natural prejudice against the colored race, and these will therefore see no use in such a project, but let such reflect upon the lines of Robert Burns:

"Then let us pray that come it may—
As come it will for a' that-

That sense and worth o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

It's coming yet for a' that,

That man to man the world o'er
Shall brothers be for a' that."

The site of the building is well chosen among beautiful and fertile hills, easy of access by the Baltimore Central Railroad from all parts of the land, only a short distance from the northern borders of the Southern States, from whence so many of their students come, yet not so near the VOL. XVII.-8

old slave associations and depressions as to hinder the maturing of modest self-respect and manhood. The president and professors of the institution, seven in all, do all the instruction, and, living on moderate stipends, their work is a labor of love and of hearty sympathy with the cause. The courses of study are varied and calculated to give to these young men a thorough collegiate education and a well-developed mental training, exerting over them a positive moral and religious influence, though free from sectarian bias, and aim at the highest possible elevation of the colored man. It is a laudable purpose, and as want of sufficient means is hampering its extended usefulness, the generous public should lend a helping hand.

From here I continued on to Oxford, and from Oxford it is less than a half-hour's ride to Port Deposit,

"On Susquehanna's shore."

To see Port Deposit is well worth the ride. It is strung along one main street on the margin of the stream, with a precipitous and rocky palisade towering high in the rear and above and below it for many miles; while the unbroken view, over the deep blue waters a mile or so away to the other side, of the rich, rolling hills of Harford County, clothed with dense woods, green meadows, and growing crops, is like a sight of enchanted land.

The gray granite quarries above this town supply the stone for Belgian blocks that pave Philadelphia streets; the stone-work of the Girard avenue and Chestnut street bridges is from them, the corner-stone of the Masonic Temple in one solid block was hewn here, and large quantities are also shipped to Baltimore and other places. I saw several schooners being loaded with this granite at the wharves.

rear.

Some of the residences in the town are very fine, notably one belonging to its principal banker, built of the granite hewn out of the palisade at its The excavation made is terraced up to the top of the steep in walks and steps, and gardens and pleasure-houses without number. A large amount of money has been spent upon this residence and grounds, which occupy but little observable space, and one can hardly help wondering why such a magnificent home was not placed upon one of the many beautiful prospects near by.

After a considerable rest and a good dinner,

which a sharp appetite and a bountiful spread of good things made enjoyable, I chose between. Mount Ararat, at the southern end of the town, and the "Lover's Leap," a rocky eminence near by, concluding to ascend the latter.

It was a pretty tough climb on a sunny afternoon, but by easy stages I reached the height and was amply rewarded for my trouble.

There, under the shady network of overhanging foliage, with the fresh western breeze playing around me, I gazed out upon the splendid view; across to the hills and valleys of the other shore and down the magnificent reach to where the Susquehanna enters the Chesapeake.

It is not astonishing that such a scene should have effect by inspiring my thoughts to things more grand and noble than the commonplaces of every-day life, and I found myself unconsciously repeating some lines from Campbell's "Gertude of Wyoming," in association with the beautiful river so far beneath me, flowing gently toward the

sea.

“On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!

Although the wild flower on thy ruined wall
And roofless homes a sad remembrance bring
Of what thy gentle people did befall;
Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.

Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore !

Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies
The happy shepherd swains had nought to do
But feed their flocks on green declivities,
Or skim, perchance, thy lake with light canoe,
From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew,
With timbrel, when beneath the forests brown,
The lovely maidens would the dance renew;
And aye those sunny mountains half-way down
Would echo flageolet from some romantic town.”

There, on my lofty eminence, I fell into a dreamy abstraction over these verses, and perhaps would have been sitting there yet but for some warning clouds that were fast creeping across the sky, indicating an approaching storm. Being averse to a wetting, I immediately scrambled to my feet and began the descent, which was accomplished with less labor than the ascent, and just in time to escape the shower which came first in pattering drops and then in a deluge. Seeking convenient shelter until the rain had ceased and the sun once more shone out through a watery haze, I then concluded that I had seen enough pleasuring for the present; so, boarding the first northward bound train that came along, I was soon en route for the sweetest of all spots, "home."

Singing at the morning's dawn,
When the day is breaking;

Singing when the light's withdrawn,
And the stars are waking;

Watching, singing through the night;
Singing, waiting for the light.

Singing in the April days,

When the clouds are weeping; Singing through the summer haze, When the men are reaping;

Singing through the autumn's chill,
Through the winter singing still.
So, my soul, take up the song,
Yield not to repining;
Clouds can never linger long-
See their silver lining!

Sing on, sing on, all the way;
Sing on till the break of day!