Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1860-12-29
TIL OLD & z T.
BY B. =. TAYLOR.

Sarcastic people say that the poets dwell ia
garrets, and simple people believe it. Aud others,
neither sarcastic or simple, send them aloft, among
the rubbish, just because they do not know what
to do with them down stairs and among folks,
and so they class them under the head Of rubbish,
and cons;gn them to that grand reception of has
beens," and despised "used-to-be'e," the old
garnet.
The garrett is to the ether apartments of the
homestead what the adverb is to the pedagogue in
parsing. Every thing they do not know how to
dispose Of, is consigned to the list OF advorbs.
And it is for this precise reason we love garrets;
because they do contain the relics of the old and
Of the pas:-souvenirs og other and happier and
simpler hours.
They have ONE to build houses. nowadays
without garrets. I~mpious innovation.
You men of bronze, and "bearded like the
purd," who would like to make people believe, If
you could, that you were never a ''toddling wee
thing" that you never worea "riAed dress" or
jingled a rattle box with infinite delight; that you
never had a mother, and that she never became an
old woman, and wore caps and spectacles, aud
may be took snuff; go home once more after all
these years Of absence, all booted and whiskered,
and six feet high as you are, and let US go up to-
gether into that old fashioned spacious garnet that
extends from gable to gable, with its narrow, oval
windows with a spider web Of a sash, through
which steals a dim, religious light" upon a mu-
scum of things unnameable. that once figured be-
low stairs, but were long since crowded out by the
Vandal hand Of modern iimas.
The loose boards Of the floor rattle somewhat as
thoy used to do-Gon't they ? when beneath your
~prattling feet they clattercd aforo,ime, when of a
rainy afternoon, Mother" wearied with many
tongued importantly, granted the lie. US 60 ny
10 the garnet and play" And play Precious
little Of play you have had since, we dare warrant
with your looks Of dignity and dreams of ambi
ton.
Here we are nov in the midst of the garnet
The cid barrel-shail we rumage it? Olj news
papers. dusty, yellow, a little catered IT'S tn
Columbian Star" How familiar the type looks
How it reminds you Of old lines, when you looket
over the edge of the counter with the letters o
papers for father Aud these same ftars jus
damp from the press were carried one by one t
the freside, and perusod and preserved as the,
ought to be. Stars? Damp. All, many a sta
has set since then, and many a new turfed heal
grown damp with rain that fell not from clouds.
Dive deeper in the barrel. There A bundle
up it comes, in a cloud of dust. Old almanacs, b.
all that is memorable. Thin leayed ledgers o
time. going back toilet us see how far 1874
1889, 1872, before our time--lS0-, when oul
mothers were children. And the dag bOok-hoW
blotted aud bleared with many records and tears.
There you have bit your head against that
beam. Time was when you ran to and fro be.
meath it, but you are nearer to it now. by more
than the latitude Of a chopping." That beam is
strewn with forgotten papers of seeds for the next
years sowing; a distaf. with some new shreds Of
FAX remaining, is thrust into a crevice Of the raf
tiers overhead, and tucked away close under thC
caves, is the little wheel that used to stand by thC
fire in times long gone. Its sweet long song ba.
ceased, and p~erhaps-perhaps she drew those
faxen threads-but never mind-you remember
the line don't you2
"ller wheel at rest, The matron charms no more
Well let that pass. Do you see that little crof
IN that dark cornerl 1t was red once. it was h,
only easket it the house once, and contained
mothers jewels. The old led cradle For all lbt
world! And you occupied that onee; aye, grenl
ss you are. it was your world once, and over it the
only horizon you beheli bent the heaven Of a
mothers eyes as you rocked in that little barque
Of love, on the hi;her thore Of time-iast by q
mothers love to a mothers heart.
And there attached to two rafters, are the frag-
ments Of an uhtwisiej rope. Do you remember It,
aud what il was for, and who fastened it there ?