Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1872-03-06
The Grandmother.

Grandmamma is SO old, she has 20 many
wrinkles, and her hair is quite white but
ber eyes shine like two stars. Yea, they are
more beautiful they are so mild so blessed
to look into. And she can tell the most de-
lightful stories, and she has a dress Of thick
silk that rustlcs; it is covered with large
flowers
Grandmamma knows so much, for she lived
so long before papa and mamma, that Is GER
tain. Grandmamma has apsalm-book with six
thick silyec clasps, and she reads in it often
i'm h there lies 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 graudmamma looks
Away SO fondy upon the withered rose in
the Old book ? Do you know Each time
that grlndmamma's tears lall upon the flower,
its odor reyiyes 10 lreshons agaiu, and the
whole room is filled with the scent Of it ; the
walls disappear as though they were only fog,
and all around is the green, beautiful wood
with inc sun shining through the leaves, and
grandmamma says she is quite young She is
beautiful girl with blooming cheeks cnga-
ging and lovely no rose is more fresh yet
the eyes, the mild, blessed eyes, are still
grandmamma's BY her side is seated youth
so young, handsome and strong lie offers
her a rose, and she smlcs-but not thus
smiles grandmamma Yos-the smile comes
| He is gone 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 ia the book.
/ NJ g. 1ooI ho 10
sy-ohair, aud told a long, delightful story,
" And now, it's over she said and | am
quite weary let me sleep a little Then
she lay back and drew heavy sigh and slept
but it became more and more still, and her
face was so full Of peace and joy, it was as if
the sun shined upon it. Then they said she
was dead.
She was laid in the black coffin, onshrouded
in pure white linen she looked so beautiful,
aud yet her eyes were closed. But all the
wrinkles were gone a sweet smile played on
her mouth her hair was so siger-white so
honorable, no one could be afraid to look at
her it was still the same benign, kind grand
mamma. And the psalm.book was laid under
her head as she herself had desired, and the
rose lay in the old book and so they buried her.
On her grave, close under the churchwall
khey planted rose-tree and II 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 her head. And the moon shown right
dg1n upon the grave; but the dead one il
not there every child could fearlessly g
there at night and pluck rose there by th'
: churchwal
} One that is dead knows more than all W,
, living know the dead know the dread W,
living should feel at anything so strange a.
Fahatshcy should appear to US. The dead are
better than we are, and 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 its associations has crumbled
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 tn,
first time she kissed the fresh red rose thai
lieth now dust in the grave.