The Athens post. [volume] (Athens, Tenn.) 1848-1917, 1856-03-07

We call Jenny, that fills very large place il
the center of two pretty large hearts. $1,000
nighi!' lisps a little fellow in II plaid dress
who was christened Willie about six year
ago.
'Now lay down to sleep,
Dray the Lord my soul to keep;
If | should die before Wake"
and the small bundle il. the irundle-bed ha:
dropped off to sleep, but an angel will finish
the broken prayer for her, and it will go NJ
sooner than many long-winged petitions that
Sc. out a great while before it.
And so it was "Good Night" all round the
old homestead, and very sweet music it made
too in the twilight, and very pleasant melody
it makes now rs We think of it, for it was moi
Yesterday, nor the day before, but long time
ago-so long that Tommy is Thomas Some.
body, ESQ.,, and has forgotten he was ever Il
boy, and wore what the bravest and richest
of us can never wear but once If we try-the
first pair of boots; so long ago that Jenny has
gone the way of the old prayer she was
sineng-ror saying another, she did as be-
fore, fell asleep as she said it, and asked no
more.-Good night to thee, Jenny, Good
night!
And so it was good night all around the
house, and the Chi drrn had gone through the
IVORY gate, always left little ajar for the III,
through into the land of dreams, or through
the golden one they call beautiful" into the
land of angels.
So they are all scattered and gone, and the
old house is tenantlesS, and there is nobody
there to say good night, and nothing but the
rain can come in, and the birds that have
made themselves nest among the broken
stones of the hearth, and the sheep that take
shelter from the piiless storm under the wall
that is whole, yet now We think of it, there is
II wonderful dignity about the old place. Its
rooms were not very spacious; precious little
tapestry adorned the walls; the caves were
low, and mos sy, and gray; but did we not
begin to live and love, and to hope therc?-
Did not the old homestead have very much to
do with the laslioning of our thoughts?
Was it not, us it were, IN humble mould
for the shaping OF our fancrs? Did we not
bear away with us, wherever we went, cabi-
net Of pictures that were painted there p
Have you forgotten what shapeless thing it
was that used to lurk in the dark ut the top
# I'm stp an ,..iI In otf,h
vonr way to bed, but never doing it? And
what long drawn sighS used to come moan.
ing down the garret, and what trailing gar
mrnts rusilcd aA'ng the garrct floor! How
we fancird it WAS lacy iE II castle-a lady
fair and youpg-and We, so many champions
to sound the bugeat the gate, and hear her
safe away. For tlien we had read the SScot.
tIsh Chiefs and "rhaddeus of Warsaw" and
the Duke of Gloster saw fewer Richmonds in
the field than there were Wallaces Of us then
-cacI: one with Marion or Il Helen to
bless them.
Then the tale that Dolly told round the
kitchen fire, when she had "done up" the
work and "donc up her hair, and swept up
the hearth, aud sat down to her sewing
Then it waswe gathered round, and brsought
her fora siory--oi ghosts. or itches, or fair.
les, or little wonderful children that lived n
long time ago, and became very beautiful, or
very brave, or something that we longed to
be-. How We would have delighted to be
Robin Hood, and lived in the woods, and
wear an array to Kendall green. How we
wished we had been Jack the Giant Killer. or
Richard Wilmington, or Cinderella, or some
body she told us of.
But when she told of ghosts in white that
made no football when they walked, of their
hands, how cold they were; of their laugh,
how gIit;cring and ghasIy it was--have you
forgotten how we drew Il little nearer, us the
tale went on, and though the light was bur.
ming dim and blue, and begged her to stir
the sleeping fire, and dare not look behind us
where the shadows were, and fanced some.
thing sighed or spoke, and sylabled our
names! Each voice subSided 10 Whisper
all but Dolly's; and she went on, with cas-
ties grim, and spectres dim, and dungeons
deep, and ladies fair, while her gttering nee
die darted in and out along the heightened
hem. At last, one of Us is thronrd upon her
lap; and another begs to lay his head therein,
and still the tales go on.
The clock is on the stroke of nine, and
how we dreaded the last slr.l chime. II
came, and we went reluctantly TO bed. How
dark the hall was, and the door must be left
open little, and "Dolly, are you thcre?" and
"Dnlly, good night" and Dolly som thing
Just to hear her speak, came from under the
quilts We had drawn over our heads, and we
wondered what ratified the window, and vi hat
shook the bed, aud didn't You feel something
cold, or hear something ST, p and how we all
wished we were asleep, or il was mornng, or
the sun shone all night How We suffered
then, and nobody knew it and nobody badr
us to be brave.
Well, years have passed, but we build cas-.
Ties Ms we did then, and feel just such great
cold shadows MS used to lurk in the hall, and
people them with forms no eye has ever seen.
The memory should not be n tomb, place
for ghosts to revisit the glimrses of the
moon in, but beautiful place, full of recol-
lections of Sunshine and Iovoliness.
DoyLEsTowS, (Pa.) Feb. 10.
The execution OF Jacob Arnbrus,er, who