The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, 1857-09-17

cow, and never comes out in the world and
our petitions are grsnlel. and we are lifted
up, and we al! touch with a finger The won.
derful weights. and the music of tho little
wheel is resumed.
Was Mary to he married, or Jane TO lie
wrapped in q shroud Z" So meeklv did she
fold the white hands of the one upon her
still bosom, that there seemed to be prav.
er in them there; and so sweetly did she
wreathe the white rose in the hair of. the
other, that one wonld not have wondered
had moro roses budded for company.
How she stood between us and appre.
hended harm How the rudest Of us soft.
ened beneath the gentle pressure of her
faded and tremuous hand! From her ca
pacious pocket that hand was ever with.
drawn closed, only TO be opened in our own,
with the nuts she had gathered, the cher.
ries she had plucked the little egg she had
found, the "turn over" she had baked, the
trinket she had purchased for us as the pro.
duct of her spinning. the blessing she had
stored for us-the offspring of her heart.
What treasure of story fell from those old
lps-of good old fairies and evil, Of the old
times when she was n girl and we wonder.
ed it ever-but then she couldn't be hand
somer or dearer-but that she ever was
little And, then, when we begged her
to sing Sing us one Cf the old songs
you used TO sing mother, grandma"
"Children, can't sing" she always said
and mother used TO lay her knitting softly
down, and the kitten stopped playing with
the yarE upon the floor, and the clock tick.
ed lower III the cnrner and the fire died
down TO glow, like III old heart, that is
neither chilled nor dead-and grandmother
sang. 10 be sure, it wouldn't do for the
parlor and the concert room nuw.a days.
but then il was the old kitchen and the old.
fashioned, and the OLD ballad, in the dear
old times; and we can hardly see to write
tor the memory Of them, though it is
hands breadth 20 the sunset.
Well, she sang. Her voice was feeble
and warering, like a fountain just ready to
tall, but then how sweet toned il was and
It became deeper and stronger: but il
couid1t grow sweeter. What "iov of
greet " II was TO sit there around the fire. all
OF us, except Jane, that clasped prayer to
her osom, and her thoughts we saw, when
the hall door was opened a moment by the
wind; but then we were not afraid, for
wasn't 1t her old smile she wore ito sit
there around The fire and weep over the
woes of the Babes in the Woods" who
lay down, side by side, in the great solemn
shadows and how strangely glad We fel,
when the robin-redhreast covered them with
leaves; and last of all. when the angels took
them out Of the night into day everlasting.
We may think what we will of it now
but the song and the story heard around
the Kitchen fire have colored the thoughts
and lives OF most Of us; have given us the
germs OF whatever poetry blesses our hearts,
whatever memory blooms in our yesterdays.
, Attribute whatever we may to the school
and The schoolmaster. the rays which make
mat little day we call life, radiate from the
God swept circle Of the hearrh.stone.
Then she sings An old lullaby she sang
to mother-her mother sang to her; but
she does not sing 1t through, and faltcrs ere
lis done. She rests her head upon her
hands, and it is silent in the old kitchen
Something glitters down between her fin.
gers and the freight, and it looks like rain
IN the soft sunshine. The old grandmother
is thinking when she first heard the song.
and OF the voice that sung it, when light
haired and light-hearted girl, she hung
around that mother chair, nor saw the
I shadows of the days to come. Oh the
days that are no more! What spell can
we weave TO bring them back again a.
What words can we unsay, what deeds un.
do, TO Sc. back, just this once, the ancient
clock Of time
So all our little hands were forever cling.
ing to her garments, and staying her AS if
from dying, for long ago she had done liv-
ing for herself, and lived alone in us. But
the old kitchen wants a presence today.
and the rush.bottomed chair is tenantless.
. How she used to welcome us when we
were grown, and came back once more to
the homestead.
We thought we wore men and women,
but we were children there. The old fash
ioned grandmother was blind in the eyes.
but she saw with her heart, as she always
did. We threw our long shadows through,
the open door, and she looked dmly up and
saw tall shapes in the doorway, and she
says: Edward know. and Lucv's voice
can hear but whose is the oiherl" II must
he Jane's-for she had almost forgotten the
. folded hands. I" Oh. no, not Jane, for she
let me see-she is waiting for me, isn't
she 2" and the old grandmother wandered
and wept
at is another daughter, grandmother
that Edward has brought" says some one