Litchfield enquirer. [volume] (Litchfield, Conn.) 1829-current, 1856-11-20
ga5b =.
Vol. xxxI.-No. 80. whole No. 1895.
iugs she had stored for us-the offspring 81 her

iugs 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 wondered if ever !;
but then she couldn't be handsomcr or dearer
--siie was ever little. And then, when We
begged her to sing Sing US one of the old
songs you used to sing to mother, grandma. =
Children, can't slug. she always said, and
| mother nsed to always lay her knitting softly
| down. and the kitten stopped playing with the
yarn on the floor, and the clock licked lower IN
/ the corner, and the ere died down to glow
Ike an old heart that is neither chilled nor dead
ans grandmother Sang To be- sure it would
not do Tor the parler and concertruom nov "a
days but then it was the old kitchen and the
oid-fashioned grandmother, anu the old ballad.
in the dear old times, and We eau hardly see
| to write for the memory of them, though it is
hands breadth to the sunset
Well, she sang Her voice Was feeble and
wayering, like q fountain just ready to fail !;
but then, how sweet-toned it was, and it bc.
came deeper and stronger but it could no,
! grow sweeter. What 10y Of gr..f it was to
sit there around the fire, all OF US excepting
Jane, and her we thought We saw when the
door waa opened moment by the wind but
then we were not afraid, for MAS not it her Old
smile she wore I TO sit there around the fire,
, and weep over the woes Of the babes III the
woods, who laid down side D. side in the great
solemn shadows and how strangely glad VIC
felt when the robin red-breast covered them
with leaves, and last Of all when the angel took
them out Of the night into day everlasting
Nn hat ya NJ of h,,f
the song and the story heard around the kitch
ca FIRE have colored the thoughts aud tie lives
| Of most OF us, have given us the germs of what
ever poetry blcsses our hearts, whatever of
memory blooms in our yesterdays. Attribute.
master, the rays which make that little day We
call life, radlate from tue God-swept circle OF
the hearth-stoue.
Then she sings an old lullaby she sang to
n,other-hsr mother sang il to her but she
does not sing it through, and faitcrs Gre it is
done She rests her head upon her hands, aud
it is silent in the old kitchen. Something gilt
ttrs dow between her fingers in the freight.
aud it looked Ike rain in the soft suashiae The
old grandmother IS thinking When she first heard
the song. and Of the voice that sang it when
u light-haired and light-heartcd girl she hung
around that mothers eh.ir, nor saw the sh d
ows Of the years to come. Oh ! the days that
arc 10 more What words unsay, What deeds
undo, TO set back Just this once the aucie.t
clock OF time? .~@
So oar Little Lands we're forever cingng
/ TO her garments aud staying ltr as if from dy
in" for long ago she had done living for her,
self, and !;ycd alone in us But the Old kitchen
waatS presence today and the rush-bot-
tened choir is tennaItlcss. s.sg..
How she used to welcome us when we were
grown, ;.ud came back once more 10 the lionc-
stead
We thought we were men and wo.acn. but
we wcro children there the Old f,ssh:oacd grand
, mother was blind in her eyes, Lut she saw witii
her heart, as she always did. We threw orr
long shadows through the open door and she
felt thea as they fell over her form, and she
Hooked d,H,iy NJ, and she said :
Edward I know, and Lury's Yo.cc can
hear, hut whose is that other: Ii must be
! james Tor she had almost forgotten the fold
cd hands. Oh, no rot james for sie--ct
nc scc--shc is waiting for me. isn't She aud
i, the old grandmother wandered a;ll vert
1t is anGtLer daughter, grandmother, that
Edward has brougl says some one, for your
Bic. sing
Has she blue eyes, my son? Put her hand
in nine, for she is my late born, the child Of
my old age. Shall sing You song, children !:
and She is idly fumbling for toy, welcome
gift for the children that have come again.
One of US, men as we thought We were, is
weeping she hears the has-suppressed sobs,
and she says, os she extends her feeble hand,
| Here my poor child, rest upon your grand
mothers shoulder she will protrect you from
all harm.
Come, children, sit around the Gre again.
Shall sing you song. or tell ycu u story
Stir the fire, for i, is cod the nights arc grow
ing cok.cr. .-.s-s.
The clock in the corncrstruck nine the bed
time Of those old days. The song of life was
indeed sung Che story told. 1t was BEDTIME
at last Goodnight to thee, grandmother--
The old-fashioned grandmother was no more,
| and we miss her forever But we win set up
tablet in the midst Of the heart, and write
on it only this: s& gst 4
g SACRED TO THE MEMORY
oLnFAsHIcxED GRaSDaoraEE.
COP BLESS aER FoREyDs.