The Cass County Republican. [volume] (Dowagiac, Mich.) 18??-1880, 1861-10-24

WeHI up III clOuU, anu TOut away on
the billowy air the leaves grew pale
and yellow, and rusty and brown, and
whirled in eddies over the withered
grass. Song had fed with summer,
and the foliage had gone with the fruit.
Shivering in the November wind stood
the dismantled orchard, and waited
waited as we shall wait, in silence, yet
in hope.
The SHOWS have drifted around the
Russets; icicles are pendant from the
GilliAower, but the winters fire is
glowing and cracking, and roaring
steadily up the broad chimney. John
has just blundered up the cellar stairs
with huge bowl of apples, and set it
upon the hearth pitcher of cider is
keeping them company. They have
been turned once; they are comforta-
BILE; SO are we all. 1t was large Cir
Gle we made then, for we were all
there,
"Father, Mother,
Sister, Brother,
All who held each other DEAR"
anu tnc oOWl anu It's COtuTduo pdSSeu
from hand to hand. We were all talk
ing; talking of the summers that had
gone, of the springs that were to come,
but, strange to say, not man of us
said a word of the winter that was pass
ing away. Winter? There was 10
winter there and then. 1t was all sum-
mer within doors and within hearts; but
alas for it, winter crept in there at last,
within the charmed circle of the hearth
light; and it crept up to fathers brow
and frosted it; and mothers's hair, that
used to be so dark since we remember,
and silvered it; and driftsd over a new
grave in the orchard, and we grew few
and silent and thoughtful, and passed
one after another over the old thresh-
hold and hardly ever returned. The
fewer we become the more let us love
one another.
That grave in the orchard! All
the fruit that fell and was covered up
there in the earth /; that fell out of our
hands and out of our hearts, and in the
midst of the rain, aud lies there in the
little grave under the trees. After
Jennie died it was very lonely for a
while, and we used to hear the mourn
ing doves in the edge of the woods,
and we thought it was Jennie signing
for shelter again, and we carried the
things that she loved best and laid
them very near where she lay; and we
lived in hope that she would return
v,;th tho blossoms. ap1 tho bIoccop, q
came and drifted white around her
head, and the birds sang sweetly, and
voices of children were heard in the
orchard, but nothing could lure her /;
she never came back again. Much
thereat did we wonder and grieve, for
we had not heard then that the well
come they give to little children who
wander away through the gates of Par
adise, that are ever little ajar, makes
it so like home to them that they never
think of leaving it more, but, all tears
wiped away from their eyes, they Sit
down in the orchards of God, where
leaves never wither, and graves are
never made.
Every one of us, you remember, had
a tree of our own then, that bore oul
name that were planted when we
were born. There in the corner was
Jennie's tree. Jennie's tree? 1t j.
ownerless and withered and dead
Bless the old orchard and its memo
ries; the gray haired man that planted
and grated it, aud SO went about mar
rying one to another, whose nuptiall
tho Spring hallowed and blessed
Bless the children that played in The
shade, and kept them all as young al
tthey were then till they weary and
sleep. Bless the days that are gone
and the hope that was in them.
| We would not see the old orchard i
we could. The trees-the most o
them-are withered and gone; tn,
grave has subsidized, and the plow hal
passed over the spot; and the path
we walked in are effaced; the friends
we loved have fallen with the blossoms
the railway train rushes where th'
rows of the Russets once stood, an(
the birds have gone abroad to sing
But there, in the midst of the heart
the old orchard shall eternally bloom
and the Springs that are to come shal
reach even the Zion of the soul.