Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1872-01-24
GrIndmuthPFS Houses
Br c. ~

i grandmother. when established iu one
Of our modern households and dispensing
kind favors from her nook By the freside,
may be q most comfortable object to look
upon and source4o delight 10 all about
her, bug it IS nos thus that our ideal
grandmother exists. In toe homes OF her
children, however h0nored and happy she
may be, she has lost in measure her
dignity and her independence. and must
obey where she mas been wont TO direct
Tuat she may be living there, it must have
happened that tIe iilte world over which
she was ouce supreme has passed away
forever. All that remains Of u arc the
-yrect, sad memories that employ her
thoughts. whenever the childish prattle
about her is still, and the gayeties of The
outer world have drawn away for an even
ing the companions Of her daily life.
The grandmother Of our fancy lives still
in the Old homestead. and the scepter Of
its ownership and dominion mas never yet
passed from her hands. There her chill
dren we're born, and there they grew to
manhood and womanhood departing at
length to newer homes, while she remains
the guardian Of this, cherishing every
relic Of the past, and ready tC welcome
back % the old nest any OF her brood who
may choose at any time TO return. You
may find her house IN any Of our older
New Eagiand towns q square, rOomy
mansion. two stories iD hight and Of sub
stantial build. set high upon a swell Of
rising ground, with fenced flower garden,
Or a slope Of WSrn grass between it and
the road Its broad front faces the south.
whatever direction the highway may take,
50 that IL often seems 20 be turning q cold
shoulder 20 passers by q some old, iu2p-
peasabIe huff But this angular attitude
secures the best Of the sunshine, and from
early morning to late afternoon the bright
food pours through tiny windOW-psnes
upon the yellow paint Of the kitchen floor,
and across the homemade hit-or miss
carpet that adorns the sitting-room.
Everything about the house, whether
within or without, saTors Of the past and
wears charm that no new upholstery nor
modern comforts can give. How fair to
our eyes looks the ancient garden in sam
mer time, as re swing back the little gate
and pass up. through lines Of holiyhocks
and snowdrop5, 70 the broad stone step
before the door There waves q clump Of
ribbon-grass that mas grown IN the same
spot ever since the days when We plucked
il to trim the hats Of our dolls; and the
small, yellow Scotch roses, the Polysnthus
and London pride spring as fresh az ever
froln the old roots. Morning-glories, pink
and blue climb beside the window blinds,
and a venerable honeysuckle swings its
yellow trumpets from post of the old
stoop. How many pretty maideDs have
broken It's sweet sprays 90 stick IN their
bodices in the days gone by, how many
playful lovers have offered them to their
sweethearts as they were departing from
rbe door, And still its gnarled stalks send
out tender shoots and fragrant blossoms
.for a new generation Of visitors, SIS if the
past and the present were alike to them.
Within, the hall is quiet and forsaken,
and the tall, straight clock ticking heavily
IN the corner appears the only inbabltant
of the stiffness. But there are times.
even now. when bevy of rosy faced chill
drsn make it gay with laughter. as they
come sliding down the steep, polished rail
cf It's winding staircase; and one may
sometimes hear there still, the soft open
M OF E1BLuDCA ADDA5 f1DO' - e1-SNA W. 00--
Of ample dresses sweeping down against
the twisted banisters to the parlor below.
Occasionally At midsummer the traveller
glaucss up to behold a group Of young
faces rising IN tiers upon the lower stairs,
Is they sit locking OUT through the open
door to the garden, the greenery and the
sGv. and chatting merrlly together. but
-uoh occurrences are rare.
For the most part, IL the long. still
DAYS. it is only grandmother who giides
Dois sIesslv up and down IN her trim, low
slippers and scant skirts, making sure that
the window.blinds are closely hasped TO-
gether, and that no flies venture to pass
the fringes Of the curtain
We know well the interior that will
meet our gaze when We open the door OF
the long closed parlor, and stand looking
in from the threshold. 1t is barely light
enough there for Us to distinguish the pat
tern Of the faded carpet, woven with
border that runs strsight around the roo"