River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1873-08-15
MY GRANDMOTHER'S LEGACY.

MY GRANDMOTHER'S LEGACY.
| shut my eyes-am dreaming
open them again. Oh, no, it is bright
reality. The close-cut grass stretching
out from my window, down to the
overgrown plantation, is the same
which my ancestors tripped in their
high heeled shoes, before the red tide
of the revolution swept them away.
The old stone fountain, with its broken
Triton and Wondering dolphin, then
threw its silver spray far into the sunny
air; now, few slow drops trickle
among the MOSES that fringe its edge.
Have you ever lived where there was
not something that reminded you of
the dead This is the chair in which
. they were sitting, long years before
was born. Yonder is the couch where
they were lying when death opened for
them the door Of life. Their eye saw
what / am seeing; their ears heard the
song of the birds as hear them now.
The blue periwinkle stars in the glass
on my table, gathered them this
morning under the oaks in the planta-
ton; and so, hands that have been
dust for ages gathered them on some
sweet spring morning in the past
am sitting in the little, dark pan.
neled room where, one sunny morning,
my grandmother sat with her child in
her arms, when a courier arrived, pant
ing, GREATNESS: 1.-The Queen is gull
lotined - There was no more hope
my grandmother must fly. Clasping
her babe to her heart, she arose horses
were saddled; a rapid flight to the
coast; a fearful meeting with her hus-
band, disguised as fisherman; trembl>
ing haste; crazy boat on stormy
sea: landing on the shore of Scot
land-pOor, friendless, with aching
hearts. Such was the story / had often
heard from grandmother's lips.
Left an orphan in my babyhood, she
was father, mother, all to me. Hour
after hour | have sat at her feet, listen
ing to tales of beautiful France" of
the gay conrt, the beautiful queen, the
old chateau where her happiest DAYS
were spent. You were not born
there, pduUre petite" she would saw.
softly. All that was wrong but
You may die there-I think you will.
You will be thankful for that, Mignon -
And her eyes would wander over the
bleak Scotch moor, seeing beyond them
the blue sky and fiowery fields of her
sunny France. Does she know that
her half prophecy has been in part full
filed Does she know that at last my
feet tread the grass-grown paths in the
quaint old garden that for me the
birds sing and the trees shake out their
tender leaves A new generation OF
leaves, but still the same her eyes saw
aud loved. There is little changed.
A friend remembered us the estates
were saved, and / inherited them. Not
much money but the gray walls, the
trees. the fields, are mine | look
around | say, MY own" Does she
know all this / believe she does. Her
picture looks down upon me now not
as | remember her, with silyery hair
shading her delicate high.bo face,
but young, with laughing eyes, and
ripe lips just parted in a joyous smile.
In the long salon beyond are rows of
naughty faces, blooming faces, stern.
wicked, sanity faces. One after anoth.
CT they lifted the burden of life, bore
IL awhile, then laying il down crept
away to their long, dreamless sleep,
under the stones in the little chapel.
Now there is only one weak woman's
hand 10 lift the banner Of the name
they bore so long and nobly. Stretch
out your shadowy hands that its trails
fold not in the dust Strengthen me.
shades OF the dead that 1 bear il not
unworthIly
The air is still with that stiffness
that speaks of life, not death Some
where in the distance Jean is drawing
water. The creaking of the wheel
becomes musical through faintncss. In
the tarm.yard the busy hens are cack.
ling, aud one loud-voiced cock is crow.
ing Justify Lisette is gathering about
her kitchen, singing plaintive little
song; the chorus reaches mo" Marie!
Marie je rOUs dimc tCUjOurs." | am
IDLY wondering who was Mariel And
did the singer love her always
Presently Lisette's heels click along
the hall Mademoiselle's keys" she
says, with flash of her white teeth.
Jean has found them among the peri
winkle stars. take them from her
hand One, smaller than the rest. has
slipped of the ring. A little leather
box, clasped with iron, stands before
me on the window seat. A few DAYS
before her death my grandmother gave
It into my keeping. Take it, mon
thfdHt It contains the life secrets oi
many of your race. There are stories.
too, from other lips as they were told
to me. You may like To read them.
ION will keep it for my sake. Ny life
mas been busy one, and have never
opened t. Now, a. tit the kew into
the rusty lock, and raise the lid. i
cloud OF dust salutes me, and musty.
moldy smell. TIE papers are mildewed
| Win -. a.. |.