Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1878-04-24

All around,-
Listen to its CHEEKY soundi
st. Nicholas. for A pril.
My Grandfather's Story.
at is good night for n story, grand
father" and placed my little stool upon
the soft rich hearth rug, and sitting down
upon it leaned my head against the old
mans knees and lifted my brown eyes
wistfully.
A wild winter storm was raging about
the old farm house, drifting the snow high
on the window sills, fastening it to the
deep panels Of the doors, sitting it through
the crevces of the messy roof and heap
ing it up to broad ridges all along the
pathway and over the garden beds. But
indoors all was bright and of summers
warmth, the generous hickory fire blazing
high and ruddy on the ample hearthstone,
casting a genial light and glow into the
farthest corner of the large room, and
scintillating on the dark ceiling like polar
flashes on a midnight sky.
1t was pleasant. cheerful picture, that
old fashioned parlor, and l have but to
close my eyes TO see it just as it looked to
me then, with its rich, pearl tinted paper
hangings, its low, oaken ceiling with its
heavy and highly polished beams, its
crimson window curtains closely drawn,
its quaint mohogany furniture, its soft,
flower patterned Turkey carpet; its mas
sive silver candlesticks, with their tall,
snowy, waxen candles; its blazing fire
place, with its flashing fender and spark
ling andirons, and my dear old grandE-
ther in his carved arm chair, wrinkles upon
his brow, crow feet about his eyes; fur
rows upon his cheeks, frost upon his head
but smiles upon his lips and Il CHEEKY look
in his gray eyes.
| He had known many sorrows, the dear
old man, but he was now very near TO
heaven, that blest and beauteous home
where there is no more weeping, and SO
he seldom spoke of the saddened past, but
often of the bright to come.
rest slept here and there, in nearly all
sons and daughters. and they had gone out
from him and found homes in other lands
homes and graves; for not one remained
to cheer his declining age. The "auld
wife had gone too. Hand in hand they
had climbed the hill of life, and hand in
hand trotted nearly to its foot, when she
grew pale and weak and left him to 60
down alone.
was his only comfort now, he said
his only stay, and dearly did the old man
cherish me, his only eve lamb.
"You can remember one, can you not
grandfather?
"What shall it be about-say, darling?"
80, something horrible to-night-some-
thing about our early days; about the
times when all this country was wilder
ness; something that is true, grandfather
LET us think, Carrie" and he covered
his eyes with his thin brown hand, and
was for some moments lost in thought |
didn't hurry him, for I knew that he was
looking into the far off past. and what he
saw clearly there he could tell me. He
spoke at last.
l was about eight when my parents
moved here. Not an Ak had ever rung
in this section and where this house stands
the trees grew so thckly together that the
sunlight could scarcely find its way to the
grass upon the ground. There were about
Il dozen families in all who emigrated here
at the same time and scattered themselves
over the township There were miles be-
tween each cabin save ours and my Uucle
james. We lived close together. and his
two little boys and myself were. of course,
fond play mates.
1t was three years after we came before
we had school. Our fathers were too busy
telling trees, grubbing sLumps, building
fences, blowing and sowing. to take time
to think of an education for their children.
| DIT tho fnnrth tbnrQ a
young lady into the place, the sister of one
of the emigrant's wives, who had been Il
teacher in her old home, and who offered
to open a school here for low wages.
So the men clubbed together one time
in May, and got out logs and threw up a
school house. 1t was IL rough affair, with
its luncheon ho1r, its little square holes
for windows and its hard slab seats. But
we children learned to love it very dearly,
for our pretty Annie Lee was fond of US
all, and knew how to make the six hours
full of pleasure as well rs profit.
1t was three miles from our cabin, but
thought nothing of the distance in those
DAYS, and never once missed going through
ali that summer time. Indeed, | rather
enioyed that walk through the dense for
est; there were lovely wild flowers all
around our path, gay singing birds always
floating over US, nimble squirrels chatter
ing from every tree top. while now and
then spotted deer would leap just before
MS. and turn around and look ut us with
bright eyes so strangely human. Some
times, too, we met Indians, with bows and
arrows, and variously wrought blankets
and leggins, and dusky squaws, with little
pappooses strapped TO their backs, but
they never frightened us, for they were all
friendly and accustomed to visit our cabins
and exchange their moccasins and baskets
for corn and meat.
NV two little cousins always accompani-
ed me, and many merry play spell did
we have in those old woods.
1t was the last day of school and we
had fingered rather later than usual beside
the teachers knee, listening to her fare
well words. She had given US a little
primer with colored prints, and our hearts
were very buoyant, though our eyes were
wet, for such gifts were then rare for us
children.
We had hurried home, for we were
quite tired out.
:" Let us sit down on this old log and
rest us, said to my cousins. " My feet
ache and they are very hot. too. | mean
TO hold them in the brook II whilo," and
. seating myself on the mossy oaken tree
which storm had laid low, l dipped my
feet in the cool waters of the running
: stream. and as it gurgled over my dusty
: toes opened my new book and looked al
/ the pictures. Tommy and Harry leaned
over my shoulders, and many minute:
, passed quickly by, so intent were we or
/. the colored fruit and flowers.
( Suddenly there was slight noise in The
{ underbrush on the other side of the brook
8 We looked up hastily, thinking it nigh
: be deer, but, to my surprise and Joy, i
was my good dog, Keeper, beautiful lit