The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1852-09-23
An Old Garrct.

"Excbange Paper" to the sutjoin
admirable picture Of " An old Garret.
There is many an over-praised novel il
these latter days, that does not posses
half the naturalness and true feeling o.
this little sketch -
Sarcastic people are wont to say
that poets dwell in garrets and simple,
people are wont to believe it: And
others, neither sarcastic nor simple, send
them up aloft, among the rubbish, just
because they do not know what to DO
with them down stairs 'among folks,
and so they class them under the head
of rubbish, and consign them to the
grand receptacle of dilapidatcd has
beens,' and despised to-bes'-the
old garret.
The garret is to the other apartment
of the homestead what the adverb is to
the pedagogue in parsing; every thing
they do not know how to dispose of is
consigned to the list of adverbs. And
it is for this precise reason that we love
garrets because they do contain the
relicts of the old and past-souvenirS of
other, and happier, and simpler thimes.
They have come to build houses now
a-days, without garrets. Impious inno-
vation
You man of bronze, and bearded
like the bard,' who would make people
believe if you could, that you never Wore
ruffle dress or jingled rattle box with
infinite delight; that you had a mother,
and that she never became on old wo-
man, and wore caps and spcctacles, and
may be took snuff; 60 home once more,
after all these three years absence all
booted and whiskercd, and six feet high
as yol are, and let us 60 up stairs to-
gether; in the old fashioned, spacious
garret, that extends from gable to gable
with its narrow, oval windows, with its
spider wed of a sash, through which
steals "a dim, religious light upon a
museum of things unnameable, that once
figured below stairs, but were long since
crowded out by the Vandal hands of
these modern times.
The loose boards of the floor rattle
somewhat as they used to do-don't
they ?-when beneath your little patter-
ing feet they clattered aforetime, which
of rainy day, MOTHER wearied will
many tongued importantly, granted th'
Let us 60 up garret and play;' Ane
play! Precious little Of play, have yo,
had since, we'll warrant, with your lool
of dignity and your dreamings Of am
bition.
Here we are now, in the midst of tn
garret. That old barrel-shall we run
mage it; Old files of newspapers
dusty, yellow, little tattcred |! IT
the 'Columbia STAR How famila
the type looks How it reminds you G
old times, when you looked over tn
edge of the counter, with the Letter
or papers for father;' And those same
STARS just damp from the fireside, an
preserved as they ought to be. Stars
Damp Ah' many star has set sine
then, and many new turfed heap grow
dewy and damp with rain that fell no
from the clouds.
Dive deeper into the barrel. There
A bundle-up it comes in u cloud (
dust; old Almanacs, by all that is mt
morable. Almanacs, thin-leaved lee
gers of time, going back to-let us Sc
how far-lS4-, lS3-, 1872, befo'
our time; 1SO-, when our mother
were children. And the day book ho
blotted and blurred with many recorC
and many tears.
There, you have hit your head agains
that beam. Time was when you ran
and fro beneath it, but YOU are nearc
to it now by more than the altitude G
a oopine. THAT beam is strewed wit
forgotten papers of seed for the nez
years sowing; a distatf, with some fe
threads of fax remaing, is thrust in
crevice in the rafters overhead. an
tucked away close under the caves,
'the little wheel that used to stand |
the fires in times long gone. Its swee
low song has ceased and perhaps 81
that drew those faxen threads-B,
never mind; you remember the lin
don't your
"Her wheel at rest the matron charms I
more"
Well, let that pass. DO you see th;
little craft careening in that dark corner
1t was red once; it was the only cask,
in the house once, and containen
mothers jewels. The old red cradle fi
all the world And you occupied
once; ay, great as you are, it was yo'
.-oxiJ o,o, opd ov.r ~ tho only bo,;,,