Randolph County journal. [volume] (Winchester, Randolph County, Ind.) 1855-1862, 1858-11-04
The Old sKOSe-Tree.


wassttfe exclamation of the old man in
one Of Dickens Christmas tales. And
the old man, full of love, full of faith
and trust, full of happiness-the fruit
of wcll-spcnt lifc-looked back over
The past. and wsonly the beautiful
and the good, made brighter to his
dimming eyes by contrast with the ugly
and rcpulsive. which lay in imdistinct
shadowings through the long drawn
out panorama of more than four-scorc
Years.
These sunny days, these blucLird
twittcrings, that call me from the dull
iireside, where the blaze has sunk into
soubcr embcrs, out into the open air,
after the long. cold winter months,
wakcn old amt pleasant memories, and
stir my heart, which is beginning to
grow sluggish in the downhill of life,
with thoughts Of youth, and seem TO
grow young, as Igo about hunting for
the first crocus, or the first green spirc
in the hyacinth and tulip bed; and to
live over again in inauguration the
days Of the past.
1t was n fine, sunny morning, in
that month called so ficklc Though we
don't know why, for April has Of late
shown herself much more steady in hel
habits than her coquettish sister, May
when we-kate, Lottie, and I-sal.
lied forth, brooms and rakes in hand
to clear the rubbish from the old door.
yard, and give spring fair chance tc
scatter her pets, the blue violcts and
the dandclions, without fear of losing
their beauty under the damp leaves thai
lay scattered about. There they were
the leaves of the old locusts, thai
stood like scntinels around the farm
house. There were interlopers. too
that had been waftet. from the poplar
on the hilltop, leaves from the grea
walnut on the plain, that Sallie th'
milkmaid told me, when five years old
was the ladder by which the man il
the moon climed up to his bright home
leaves from the oaks by the barre
spring; leaves from the beech, at who's,
root | made my seat Of moss, anC
where with childish delight / reaC
"R obinson Crusoe" and "Sinbab tn,
Sailor" and more especially where
conned with MYSTERIOUS awe the Ions
columns Of the Boston Weekly Mes
senger, which came all the way from
the great literary emporium to the val
ley of the Muskingum, forty years ago
No matter where the leaves cam
from. there they were, strewed over tn
ground, and marring the beauty Of tn
soft green carpet which Nature, tn
grand upholsterer. was trying to la,
down. or rather to raise up, as we fan
cicd, for our especial use, and of whicl
not one emerald spot could we afor
to loose.
There were chips, too, scattered b,
thoughtless hands, and stones, throw
TO inform truant four-footed cultiva
tors that their services in that localit
could bo dispensed with; bones tina
old Gage, the house-dog, and hi
younger companions, Mingo and Minu
hal left to bleach above ground
!, These were not only deformity. bu
{ sadly suggestive Of waste. and hintin
strongly that they desired to be bur
ried at the foot Of the grapevine O
pcar-trce. and still cherished as addin
comfort and luxury to those they ha
served so well in life. that they Nigh
c be useful even to the end.
TbSfysrtwigs and broken branch
es tAsSfould not bear the cold, surg
ingMintry winds, and fell to rise n
, fmore. till lifted by our hands to rea
the funeral pile Of Winter, that W
might scatter the ashes of his destrut
: tion over the soil, and bring fortl
Phenix-like, new life from the deaC
A merry trio were we-Kate, Lotti,
and land can't tell now for th
, life of me which sang the mcrrie.
roundelay. we. or the cat birds acros