The Trinity journal., 1856-11-08
Our Old Grandmother.
II Y d 1 VI A s.

Veneration says the Golden Era, is most
beautifully manifested in the following life
like description Everybody has, or ougAtto
have grandmother and how good grand
mothers are worShipped ! Reader, read the
following and weep-it will do you no harm
to yield to weakness so amiable, 50 tender
But read it, and say if it is not u beautiful
/ Life illustrator:
There is an old kitchen somewhere in the
past, and an old-faShicued fire place therein,
with its smooth old iambS of stone smooth
with many knives that have been sharpened
there, smooth with many little fingers that
have clung there There arc andironS with
rings in the top, wherein many temples of
flame have been buided with spires and tur-
rctS Of crimson. There is broad, worn
hearth broad enough for three generations
to cluster on worn 10y feet that have been
torn and bleeding by the way, or been made
beautiful" and walked upon floors of ;cs-
sellated gold There are tongs in the cor
ner, wherewth we grasp coal, and blow
/ ing for n little life" lighted our first candle;
there is shovel, wherewith were drawn
forth the glowing emberS, in which we saw
our first fances and dreamed our first
dreams the shovel with which we stirred
the logs until the sparks rushed up the
chimney as if q forge was in blast below,
and wished we had so many lambs, or so
many something's that we coveted and SO
it was that we wished our first wishes
There is chair--a low, rush-bottomcd
chair there is little wheel in The corner,
wheel in the garret, u loom in the cham
Der. There are chestfuls Of linen and yarn
and quilts of rare patterns and samplers in
frames.
And everywhere and always the dear old
wrinkled face Of her whose firm, elastic step
mocks the feeble saunter of her childrcn's
children-the old fashioned grandmother of
twenty wears ago She the very Proyi-
dence of the old homestead she who loved
ms all and said she wished there were more
of us to love. and took all the school in the
hollow for grandchildren besides. 4 great
expansive heart was hers beneath that
wooen gown, or that more stately bomba-
| zine, or that sole heirloom of silken texture.
!
eyes with more of beauty in them than time
could touch or death could do more than
hdG-thosc eyes that held both smiles and
! tears within the faintest call Of every one of
us, and soft reproof that seemed not pas
sion but regret A white trcss has escaped
from beneath her snowy cap she lcngthcn-
Ell the tcthcr of vine that was Strayiug
over window, as she came in, aud puckcd
a four-lcaycd clover for Ellen She sits
down by the little whecl-a trcss is running
through her fingers from the distalfs dshc-
yelled head, when n small voice cries,
Grandma" from the old red cradle, and
Grandma" Tommy shouts from he top of
the stairs Gently she let's go the thread,
for her patience is almost as beautiful as her
charity and she touches the little red bark
a moment, till the young voyager is in
dream again, and then directs Tommy's
unayaling attempts to harness the cat
The tick Of the clock runs faint and low,
and she opens the mysterious door and pro-
ceeds to wind it up. We are all on tiptoe,
and we beg in a breath, to be lifted up one
by one, and look in the hnndredth time upon
the tin cases of the weights, and the poor
lonely pendulum, which goes to and fro by
its little dim windOw and our petitions
were all granted, and we are all lifted up,
and we all touch with the finger the won
deFfnl weights, and the music Of the wheel is
resumed.
Was Mary TO be married, or Jane to be
wrapped in shroud SO meckly did she
fold the white hands Of the one upon her
] Ictt InI 4 l.,
er in them there and SO swcetlg did she
wreathe n white rose in the hair Of the other,
| that one would not have wondered had more
roses budded for company How she stood
between us and apprchended harm how
the rudest of MS softened beneath the gem
| tie pressure of her faded and tremuIous hand !
From her capaci0Us pocket that hand was
ever withdrawn closed, only to be opened in
our own with the nuts she had gathered,
with cherries she had plucked, the little egg
she had found, the turnover" she had
baked, the trinket she had purchased for us
as the products Of her spinning, the bless
ngs she had stored for us---the offspring of
! her heart
What treasures Of story fell from those
old lips of good FAIRIES and evil of the old
times when she was girl but we wonder
ed if ever but then she couldn't be hand
somer or dearer-she was ever little And
then, when we begged her to sing Sing
us one of the old songs you used to sing for
mother, grandma"
Children, | can't sing, she always said, and
mother used to always lay her knitting
softly down, aud the kitten stopped playing
with the yarn on the floor, and the clock
tcked lower in the corner, and the fire ed
down to glow, like an old heart that is
neither chilled nor dead, and grandmother
sang. TO be sure, it would not do for the
parlor and eoneertroOm nowadays but
then it was the old fashioned grandmother
and the old ballad, in the dear old times,
and we can hardly see to write for the memo
~ of them though il is n hands breadth n