The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, 1857-10-14
OUR GRANDMOTHER.

| dnOtu6F.
There is large old kitchen somewhere
in the past, and an old fashioned fire. place
therein, with lis smooth old jambs of stone
smooth with many knives that have been
sharpened there. Thste are andiroIs with
rings in the tops, wherein many temples Of
flame have been buiided, with spires and
I. utrets of crimson. There is broad, worn
hearth, by feet that have been torn and
bleeding by the way, or been made abeauh-
full" and walked upon floors Of tesselaled
| good. There are ,o,gs in the corner, where.
with we graspec coal, and 'blowing for
| little life," lighted our first candle there is
a shovel, wherewith were drawn forth the
glowing embers in which we saw our first
iances and dreamed our first dreams-the
shovel with which we stirred the sleepy
logs ill the sparks rushed up the chimney
as il a forge were in blast below, and wish.
ed we had SO many lambs, so many mar
bles, or so many something's that we covet-
ed; and so il was we wished our first wishes.
There is chair-a low, rush. bottom chair;
there is little wheel in the corner, big
wheel in the gatrel, loom in the chamber
There are chests full OF linen and yarn, and
quilts OF rare patterns, and samples in
frames.
And everywhere and always the dear oil
wrinkled face OF her whose firm, elastic
step mocks the feeble saunter of her chill
dren's ch6ren--,he old fashioned grand.
motherof twenty years ago. She, the very
providence oil the old homestead-she who
loved us all, aud said she wished there was
more Of us TO love, and took all the school
in the Hollow for grandchildren beside. A
great, expansive heart was hers, beneath that
wooleu gown, or that heir loom of slken
texture.
We eau see her to day those mild blue
eyes with more beauty in them than time
could touch or death do more than hide
within .he fainIcst call of every one of us,
and soft reproof, that seemed not passion,
but regret. A white lress has escaped from
beneath her snowy cap; she has just restored
a wandering lamb TO its mother she length
eued the lether of vine that was slrayng
over the window, as she cpme in and pluck
ell the Iour leaf clover for Ellen. She sits
down by the little wheel--a lress is running
through her fingers from The distaff's dis
hsveled head, when small voice cries,
'tGrandma" from The old red cradle. '"Grand.
MAJ" Tommy shouts from the top o: The
stairs Gently she let's go the thread, for her
patience Is almost as beautiful as her char
ity, and she touches the little red bark in a
moment, ill the young voy ager is in dream
again, and then directs Tommy's uuavang
attempts 10 harness the cat. The tick Of The
clock runs faint and low, and she opens the
mysterious door, and proceeds 10 wind il up.
We are al on tip-toe, and we beg in
breath to be lifted up, one by one, and look
for hundredih lime upon the tin cases of
the weights, and The poor, lonely pendulum,
which goes TO and fro by its little, dim win
dow, aud never comes out in the world; and
our petitions are granted, and we all touch
with finger the wonderful weights, and the
music OF the little wheel is resumed.
Was Mary TO be married, or Jane 10 be
wrapped in a shroud! So meekly did she
fold the white hands of the one upon her
still bosom, that there seemed TO be prayer
in them there; and so sweeily did she wreath
the whiia roses in the hair of The other, that
one would not nave wondered had more
roses Sudded for company
How she stood between us and appre-
hended harm How the rudest Of us soft
ened beneath the gente pressure of her ia
ded and lremuous hand From her capa-
cious pocket that hand was ever Withdrawn
closed, only to be opened in our own, with
The nuts she had gathered, the cherries
which she had pucked, the little eggs she
had found, the surn over" she had baked,
The lrinklet she had purchased for us as the
product of her spinning, the blessing she
had stored for us-the off spring Of the
heat.
What treasure Of story fell from those old
lps--of good fares and evil, Of the old times
she was gul; and we wonder if ever-!bu
then she couldn't be handsomer or dearer-
but that she ever was "litile." And, then
when we begged her TO sing "Siug us one
Of the old songs you used TO sing, mother,
grand ma"
! "Children, can't sing" she always saidi
aud mother used to lay her knitting softly
down, and The kitten stopped playing with
the yarn upon the floor, and the clock ticket
lower in the corner, and the fire died dowr
10 glow, like an old heart. that is neithe
chilled nor dead--and grandmother sang
To be sure, it wouldn't DO for the parlor ant
the concert room now days; but then /
was the old kitchen and the old fashioned
grandmother, and the old ballad, in the dea
old times; and we can hardly see 10 write
tor the memory ofthem though tits hand's
breadth 10 the sunset
Well, she sang. Her voicewas feeble ane
waveriug, like fountain just ready 10 fall
but then how sweet toned il was; and il be-
came deeper and s'rongeT but Itcouldn'
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