The weekly Butte record., 1858-09-25
Dream Children.
A REvERY.

Viucts, "ucl Wey were cnll0ren; 10 Stretch tnell
inaginations to the conception of tradtiona
ry great uncle or grandam whom they never
saw. 1t was in; this spirit that my little ones
crept about me the other evening to hear about
their Great Grandmother Field who lived in
great house in Norfolk Ia hundred times big
ger than that in which they and papa lived
which had been the scene-so at least it was
generally believed in that part of the country
of the tragic incidents which they had late
( ly become familiar with from the ballad of the
( Children in the Wood. Certain it is that the
whole story Of the children and their cruel un-
Gle was to be seen fully carved out in wood
upon the chimneypiece Of the great hall, the
( whole story down to the Robin Redbreasts
/ .til foolish rich person pulled it down to set
I up a marble one of modern invention in its
stead, with no story upon it. Here Alice put
out one of her dear mother locks. too tender
to be upbraiding.
Then went on TO say how religious and
how good their great-grandmother Field was,
bow beloved and respected by everybody,
/ though she was not indeed the mistress Of this
great house, but had only the Charge. of it
tand yet in some respects she might be said to
be the mistress of it too) committed to her by
the owner, who preferred living in newer
and more fashionable mansion which he he'd
purchased somewhere in the adjoining county;
but still she lived in it in manner as if il had
been her own, and kept mp the dignity of the
great house in a sort while she lived. which at-
terward came TO decay, and was nearly pulled
down and all its old ornaments stripped and
carried away TO the owners other house, where
they were set up, and looked as awkward as if
sone one were to carry away the old tombs
they had seen lately at the Abbey, and stick
them up in Lady C.'s tawdry guilt drawing
room. Here John smiled, as much as to say,
That would be foolish indeed -
And then | told how when she came to die.
her funeral was attended by concourse of all
the poor, and some Of the gentry too, of the
neighborhuod for many miles around, to show
their respect for her memory, because she had
been sdch a good and religious woman; so good
indeed, that she knew all the Psalter by heart
-ay and great part OF the Testament be-
sides. Here little Alice spread her hands.
Then | tod what tall, upright. graceful
ptrson their great-grandmother Field once was
and how in her youth she was esteemed the
best danrer--here Ace's little right foot play
ed an involuntary movement. till, upon nv
looking grave, it dsisted--the best dancer,
was saying, in the county, till a cruel disease
called the cancer, came and bowed her down
with pain; but it could never bend her good
spirits, or make them stoop, but they were still
upright, because she was SO good and rell-
z Gus.
Then | told how she was used to sleep bv
herself in a lone chamber OF the great lone
house; and how she believed that an apparton
of two infants was to be seen at midnight gil
ding up and down the great staircase near
where she slept, but said she those innocents
would do her no harm; and how frightened |
used TO be, though III those days had my maid
TO sleep with me, because | was never hall so
good or religious as she-and yet I never saw
the infants He's John expanded all his
eyebrows and tried to louk courageous.
Then | tod how good she wds tc MI her
grandchildren, having us 10 the great house in
the holydays. where | in particular used to
spend many hours by myself, in gazing upon
the old busts Of the Twelve Caesars, that had
been Emperors of Rome, till the old marble
heads would seem to live again. or be turned
into marble with themshow could never be
tired roaming about the old mansion, with its
vast empty rcopls, with their worn-out hang
ings, futtering tapestry, and carved oaken
pannels, with the guiding almost rubbed out
sometimes in the spacious old fashioned gar
deus, which had almost to myself, unless when
new and then Il solitary gardening man would
cross me-and how the nectarines and peach
es hung upon the walls, without my ever oller-
ing to pluck them. because they were forbid
den fiuit unless now aud then-and because |
had more pleasure in strolling about among the
old melancholy yew trees, or the frs.
and picking up the red berries and the fir ap-
pies. which were good for nothing except to
look at-or in lying about upon the fresh grass
with all the fine garden smells around me-or
basking in the orangery, till | could almost
fancy myself ripenrng loo long with the oran-
ges and the lines in that grateful warmth-or
in watching the dace that darted TO aud fro in
the fish poud, at the bottom Of the garden,
with here and there great sulky pike hang
ing midway down the water in siiept state, as
il it niockcd at their impertinent friskings-I
had more pleasure in these busy idle diversions
than in all the sweet havors of peaches, necta-
rines, oranges and such like common bats of
children Ulere John slyly deposited back up-
on the plate u bench of grapes, which, not un-
observed by Alice, he had meditated dividing
with her, and both seemed willing to relinquish
them for the present as irrelevant.
Then in somewhat more heightened tone,
| told how, though their great grandmother
Field loved all her grand children. yet in an
especial manner she might be said to love her
uncle, John l., because he was SD hand
some and spirited youth, and q king to the
rest Of us and instead of moping abou: in
solitary corners, like some of us, be would
mount the most mettlesome horse he could get,
when bit an imp no bigger than themselves,
and make it carry HIM half over the county in
morning, and join the hunters when there
were any out--and yet he loved the old great
house and gardens too, but had too much spir-
it to be always petit up within their bounda
ries-and how their uncle grew up to mans
estate, as brave as he was handsome, to the ad-
miration Of Everybody, but of their great
grandmother Field most especially and how
he used to carry me upon his back when was
a lame-footed boy-for he was a good bit
older than me-many q mile when | could not
walk for pain; and how in after life he became
lame footed too, and did not always q fearI
make allowances enough for him when he was
impatient and in pain, nor remember sufficient
ly how considerate he had been to me when |
was lame footed; and how when be died. though
he bad not been dead an hour, it seemed as if
he rad died greet while ago, such distauce
there is between life and death; and how |
bore his daa tbn,r~lt ~-o.&x- ALI - Sat