Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1877-04-16
AN OLD HOUSE.

have higher ceilings and broader panes
of glass. medieval mantel-piece, and
French paper on the walls, and Persian
rugs. You may be proud Of it. but you
love the old house-the dear old place.
almost as old as the great trees before
the door. A tall man could touch the
ceilings with his palm, and the great
mantel-pieces are stiff and ugly; but
there, in the freight, used to sit, once
upon time, the old grandmother, with
her knitting, while the children climbed
her knee and she told them stories of
her youth.
Out of the window-the little window
with the diamond panes-she has watch
ed to see her young husband coming
home after long days hunt, flushed
with exercise, bright and handsome.
There lay the red deer he shot; yonder
the dogs were kenneled-the great
brown-eyed dogs.
One of their race, then unborn, stands
beside her as she tells these tales, old
and blind and toothless, and there are
10 deer now. Yes, up that road she her
self had ridden, gay, young bride.
coming for the first time to her husbands
house, full of hope and joy. There her.
babies had been born, grown to be men
and women, married and gone forth.
Out of the door went. at last. her hus-
bands long funeral train, and nothing
was left of her life but its memories.
There she sat, thinking and knitting,
telling the old stories. How could she
be so content, the young people often
thought.
The old clock stood in the hall and
ticked, as it had done for seventy years.
In the glass cupboard were stored sa-
cred tea-service with gilt edges, and
silver teapot that had been wedding
present.
Fox's Martyrs and the Pilgrims
Progress were in the bookcase, and the
big Bible on the stand I; and there were
black proiles of choked- looking ladies
and gentlemen, with wondrous puffs on
their heads, on the walls; up in the bed
rooms were rag carpets and high post
beds, and chests of drawers, and long
ssg pillows HRE Rany RksadSS happy by dPsaa dHeaHd
had been dreamt what bitter tears shed
And down in the parlor, with its hard
upright sofa, guests with strange dull
ness of which no one dreamt, had been
entertained and lovers had wooed and
won, and doubtless there had been little
tragedies, such as go on between the low
ers through all the generations. Story
after story has told itself in the old
house
They are not all happy ones, but they
make the old house different from the
new one. Memories lurk in the very
walls; and who shall say that the spirits
of those who lie at rest in the old church
yard yonder, under tombstones on which
moss has grown, do not sometimes fit
through it-unseen but felt-bringing
softened emotions and tender recollec-
tions as they pass.
The very trees in the garden are not
as other trees. They have stories. Un-
der this first kiss was taken; under
that hands met in an eternal parting.
Down in the orchard baby's grave
the baby would be fifty years if hi
had lived to-day-but only a little while
ago his mother sat there and shed teal
over it.
The new house is fine, and costly, anC
modern, bnt there is no poetry in it, ant
there will not be until at least two gen
erations have made it an old house, ant
haunted it with sweet ghosts as it die
the old one.