OLD LANDMARKS, - "THE POWDER-HOUSE."

THE OLD World teems with historic memories; every town has its castle or chateau, every river its famous bridge: but here relics of the past are fewer, and when met with deserve a visit. Modern progress seems hostile to their existence; the tower, rock, and tree of ancient renown are generally neglected; the old gateway and mansion often fall before the encroachments of a railway or a turnpike.

Thus scarce a trace remains of the Massachusetts Indian and his times, save here and there a broken relic; his customs and habits are almost forgotten, and his lonely burial-ground and battle-field are generally unvisited and unknown. Even landmarks of the Revolution are by no means so frequent nowadays as formerly. The "Old Powder-House," in North Cambridge, is a most interesting example of those not yet destroyed.

What is known as the "Old Powder-House" stands on a slight eminence known as "Quarry Hill," lying directly in the path of one walking - short cut - from Tufts College to Old Cambridge. First a windmill, then a powder-magazine, it has felt the shock of revolution, and seen almost two centuries with their generations pass away. As we stand near its crumbling walls, our thoughts wander back more than a century ago, to the days of the good Queen Anne and the Georges, when the long arms of its fan turned merrily in the wind, and the early farmers for many miles around sent their grists there after harvest-time. Perhaps we think of one autumn morning a hundred years back, just on the eve of the great Revolution, while yet patriots were few and poorly equipped, when the Redcoats came and seized the cherished store of ammunition, - an event which struck terror into many a wavering heart. But the thought that Washington and the great American leaders have trodden here, that near its walls midnight parties have assembled, and in its sight friend and foe have marshalled, lend to it an interest beyond any admiration its foreign aspect and solitary picturesqueness can command.

Stepping within the Tower through a narrow door, we find ourselves midst a pile of rotting beams and planks, in a small round chamber, and, looking upwards, see, through floor-openings, far into the dusky shadows of lofts above, whence - if the wind is high and night approaching - we fancy issue cries and moanings of a distressed maiden, as the wind rushes through the loopholes or rattles loose shingles about the roof. This old tower has, like all its brethren, a legend, which romantic visitors would do well to read.

Such landmarks are gradually disappearing, and each steals from us, as it goes, its fund of interest and association. We trust, the "Old Powder-House" may not meet the common fate, on its windy perch, surrounded by barren acres of stunted pasture, beyond whose limit civilization seems unwilling to trespass; it has preserved an atmosphere of its own; wind and storm have played their pranks with its aged walls for many a year, but it has stood them bravely. Let us hope that its fortunes escape the devastating hand of improvement and survive to see an age when it may look for sure protection and respect.

U. C. M.