The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1878-03-15
aGRUMBs SWEPT UP.

dullest Of dead-level rainy day And
who, rummagiug through the seant
library thereof, in a disconsolate sort Of
way, has not felt his sluggish pulses
quicken at the unexpected unearthing
of volume Of sketches? Literally un-
earthing, for the book was covered with
the accumulated dust of months, we
thus came upon a collection Of sketches
by De Witt Talmage, a few weeks since,
under circumstances mentioned in our
opening sentence.
Thumbed and begrimed by childish
fingers, that before boisterous turning
of its pages had evidently made familiar
passes over the mOlasses pitcher, or sur
reptitious acquaintance with the sugar
bowl, it possessed, Notwithstanding the
juvenile etching on title page and leaf
margin, a magic power by which the
leaden hours were rendered golden, and
equipped with gorgeous wings. Crumbs
Swept Up" was the title, suggestive Of
mama to the starving fancy.
Dispose yourself, reader, in an atti-
tude Of lazy, meditative comfort, and
glance with US at a few passages:
sPECTACLEs.
Gold spectaclesl 81 know a man who
sees everything as it is; black is black,
white is white, speckled is speckled.
He looks straight through a man, TAX
ing him at any point, heart, lungs, liver
ribs, back bone, being no obstruction.
People pass before him for what they
are worth. The color of the skin is
nothing, the epaulettes nothing, the
spurs nothing. He thinks no more of a
dog because it once ran under the Lord
Mayors carriage, and when a prince
has an attack of nose bleeding, the
blood seems no more royal than that Of
other people. He never saw an angel
or a spOOk. He never had prese enti-
ment. Rather than trouble the spirits
Of the future world to come this way,
he concludes to wait till he can go to
them. He consults no wizard to find
out the future, but by honest industry
and Christian principle tells his own
/, future. The number Of cats that wake
, him up at seasonabIe hours is four,
while to others it would have been fifty
In the music of his life there are but
, few staeeatO passages. He uses no mi.
croscOpe to enlarge the little, no tele'
scope to bring hither the distant, but
simply plain pair Of spectaeles-hon
est, truth-speaking spectacles." Who
says they are not golden?
GRANDMoTHER's sPECTACLEs.
"These had done good work in theil
day. There was a crack across the
upper part of the glass, for many baby
had made them a plaything, and all
the grandchildren had at some time
tried them on. They had been some
times so dimmed with tears that she
had to take them Off and wipe them on
her apron before she could see through
them at all. Sitting on the piazza one
evening in her rocking chair, she saw q
ladder Of cloud set up against the sky
and thought how easy it would be for 8
spirit to climb it; she saw in the deeI
glow Of the sunset a chariot Of flame
drawn by horses Of fire, and wondered
who rode in it; she saw a vapor floating
thinly away as though it were a wing
ascending, and she muttered, in low
tone: "A vapor that appeareth for lit
tie season, and then vanisheth away.
The motion of the rocking-chair becam,
; slighter and slighter, till it stopped
The speetacles fell out of her lap.
child, hearing the sound, ran to picl
them up. Grandmother, what is th,
E matterP She answered not. Secon,
sight had come. Grandmother had NJ
more need of spectacles."
THE OLD CLOCK.
f 'It first took its place in the old home
, stead seventy years ago. Grandfathe
, and grandmother had just been married
= That was part of their outfit. 1t ealleC
them to their first meal. There wer'
the blue-edged dishes, and bone-handleC
: knives, and homely fare, and an appe
q tite sharpened on the wood-pile or by
= the snow shovelling. As the clock told
twelve, the rugged pair took their posi-
p ton at the table, and keeping time {,
the rattle of knives and forks and spoons
h the clock went tick, took tick, tock
- Later, mischievous child was trying
n to catch the pendulum; a crying ehilC
g held up to be quieted while listening t
r the motion of the works; a curious
h child standing on a chair trying to pu
!, his fingers among the cogs to see wha
. they were made Of; tired child falling
= asleep in a cradle. Henceforth the clocl
. has a beautiful accompaniment. OIL,
= time cradle with a mothers foot on /
: going rickety, rack riekety, rack Al
infantile troubles crushed under tn
4 rocker. Music more tender than harp
- more stirring than hutsman's bugle.
o Eighteen times the old clock ha
n tolled the old year out aud rung the new
n year in, and fair Isabel was to be married
4 The old clock seemed to enjoy the cere
,, mony, and seemed to say: 4 stood her
Z when she was born. 1 was the onl.
one present at the courtship. toll
the young man when it was time to 60
although sometimes he minded me not
: and I had to speak again. Good luc
to Isabel, and an honest eight-day cloc
to bless her wherever she may co.
- PRAYER-MEETING KILLERS.