Connecticut western news., 1871-07-28
The Grandmother.

Grandmama is so old, she has so many wrinkles, and her hair is quite white j; but her eyes shine like two stars. Yea, they are much more beautiful they are so mild, so blessed to look into. And she can tell the most delightful stories, and she has 8 dress of thick silk that rustles it is covered with large flowers.
 Grapdmamma knows so much, for she lived so long before papa and mamma, that is certain. Grandmamma has a psalm book with six thick silver clasps, and she reads in it often in it there lies a rose it is quite pressed and dry it is not so fine as the roses she has in the vase, and yet she always smiles most kindly at it there even come tears in her eyes. How can it be that grand mamma looks always so fondly upon the withered rose in the old book? Do you know? Each time that grandmamma' s tears fall upon the flower, it's odor re- wives, it freshens again, and the whole walls disappear as though they were beautiful wood, with the sun shining says she is quite young She is beau tiful girl with blooming cheeks, engag- ing and lovely; no rose is more fresh {; yet the eyos, the mild, blessed eyes, are still grandmamma's. n By her side is seated a youth-so young, handsome and strongi He offers her a rose, and she smiles but not thus smiles grand mamma Yes 1.-the smile comes. He is gor e many thoughts and many forms pass by the handsome youth is gone, and the psalm book, and grandmamma yes, there she sits again, as an old lady, gazing at the withered rose that lies in the book. .s:.
 Now grandmamma is dead. She sat in the e2sy-chair, and told long, de lightful story. "And now, it's over, , she said, "and am quite weary lei me sleep little" Then she lay back and drew heavy sigh, and slept but il became more and more still, and hel face was so full of peace and joy, 1t was as if the sun shined upon it; then they said she was dead.
 She was laid in the black coffin, en shrouded in pure white linen; she looked so beautiful, and yet her eyes were closed. But all the wrinkles were gone; Q sweet smile played on he1 mouth her hair was so silver-white, SC honorable, no one could be afraid to look at her; it was still the same benign kind grandmamma And the psalm book was laid under her head, as she herself had desired, and the rose lay il the old book and so they buried her.
 On her grave, close under the church wall, they planted rose-tree, and il stood full of blossoms the nightingale sang over it, and from within the church the organ played the most beautiful. psalms in the book that lay under hel head. And the moon shown right down upon the grave but the dead one is not there every child could fearlessly go there at night, and pluck rose there by the church-wall.
 One that is dead knows more than all we living know; the dead know the dread We living should feel at anything so strange as that they should appear to us. The dead are better than we are, and so they do not come. There is earth over the coffin, there is earth in it. The psalm book with its leaves is dust, the rose with all it's associations has crum- bled into dust but above, fresh roses bloom-above the nightingale sings, and the organ plays; one thinks of the old grandmother, with the mild eyes, ever young. ..... ..-,
 Eyes can never die ! Ours shall one day see her, young and beautiful .as when for the first time, she kissed the fres1 red rose that lieth now dust in the grave.