The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1870-12-22
Written for the News
HOPE BLANCHARD.
q YILETrE YTLLARs.


Years ago, when our parents were
yet young and their steps light, a
shadow fell over the household. My
mother left us for few weeks and
when she returned her cheeks were
Oft-times stained with tears. They
told me my grandmother was dead
Dead The word conveyed no
meaning to my young mind, but
soon after, we went down to the
old fashioned homestead, and then a
void was in my heart.
I missed a wrinkled face, beamins
with joy not of earth, the pressure
| of trembling hands, and a sweet, soft
/ kiss that age only can give. But at
tea-time, when there was no voice to
Plead, ayes, deary, eat a little more
Just for grandmother" + felt that
some irreparable loss had befallen US.
Refusing the good things pressed
upon me, I looked around with vague,
Iinaudible questionings, till my pent-
up grief burst forth in sobs that
would not be controlled. left the
room and wept long and bitterly,
huddled up on the stone steps where
a year before had made larkspur
wreaths, and listened With innocent
pride to grandmother's lavish praise
of my skill. And then 1 fell to
thinking, thinking, with all a child's
inability TO exercise thought Alright,
when my Aunt Hope came out;
closing the door, and raising me In
her arms with many Caresses.
"Won't you take little walk ?"
she asked, and sliding down from my
Festing-plaee, 1 put my hand con-
fldingly in hers.
How pretty she was, with the
sunset light in her brown eurIs, but
her face was pale, and she gazed
onward without seeming to see aught
before US. 1 had seen the graveyard
from a distance, with its brown
paling fence and weeping willows,
but this evening we passed through
the gate. The air was heavy with
perfume of alder flowers, the long
grass, like down beneath our feet,
swayed in the breeze as if possessed
of vitality. We went to a new-made
mound, the-yellow earth heaped over
lit--a strong contrast to the green
grave by its side, on whose weather.
beaten slabs the moss and ivy crept.
I felt Aunt Hopes hand lighter on
mine, and her voice trembled as she
said,
"This is grandmother's grave,
Alice,.an here, by her, my fathers
your grandfather, you know. He
died when was just your age.'
The mystery was increasing. Z
looked from the mounds of her paIlid |
brow and back again, till I cried in
anguish.
"This is her grave, but where has
she gone2 ?"
"Up to Heaven to see Jesus, and
my father, and"
"When will she como back ?"
"Never into this world again, but
we will go to her, and find her, oh,
so happy, and glad to greet US, and
we will never be sick, or part with
friends, or shed tears any more, but
live with the angels always"
] understand it now. Prayers said
and hymns sung in unconscious faith,
were no longer dull forms and mean
ingless words. was comforted. There
was real Heaven, and my grandmoth-
er had gone to it. There was a city
with no trouble or tears in it, and we
were all to get there some time.
When we reached home twilight
had changed to darkness, and my
mother resumed a conversation com
menced in the early part of the day.
"Of course you will go home with
US, Hope. Only you and I left in the
family. Rent the farm and give up
your absurd notion of staying here"
Then father pleaded, with bis
lawyer wit and eloquencej but in
vain, for she answered, !
81 am happier here. Mr.. and Mrs.
Bond will stay in the house, and
shall have little caro-"
They were not pleased, but mother
cited an incident OF
Hopes persistenoy in child hood, and
said she was sorry she had not out
grown her relentless disposition.
My Aunt's face saddened instantly.
$50 am l." was her slow reply. alt
has cost me a deal of trouble" L
Time rolled on years brief as
pleasant dream, till I had attained
my twentieth, and went to make a
long.promissd visit to Aunt Hopo.
Unmarried yet? Yea, verify, and
lives in quiet, quaint comfort in her
old home-a yet handsome woman,
with rich brown hair in sedate coils.
Around her kindly eyes are faint
lines, not Of grief or i'll health. Will
any village gossip dare insinuate
that Times stern finger traced them
there2 Yet how blithesome she Is,
and how merrily she laughs when I
tell her brother Ben, roguish lad of =
eighteen, says I am sure to be an old
maid, and he will have me to main
tain! As though it we're not such a
sad thing to be an old maid, after