Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1879-01-02

thither, never to come back any
more.
This square of black mourning cal
| leo was of the dress she wore when
johnny died, anu that when poor
old daddy died in the dead, dead of
the cherries midwinter, when the
north wind blew steadily a cutting
blast and the funeral procession just
dragged itself like sluggish snake
through he heaps of snow that piled
and dri.,oi as high as the stumps in
the clearing. and slfted through the
air like splintery particles of glass.
Oh! that dreadful day! And mother
tainted, and they spread coverlet in
the sled aud laid her on it and there
was no house a.near ; and the grave
yard was on lonely hillside among
glrdled trees, whose snowy branches
looked stark as bleaching bones. And
the ill-clad little ones huddled round
Neighbor Browns sled, and cried Tor
fear mamma would never come back
to lite. And the winter months-how
they fingered! How the mother spun
and wove and kept the family to-
gether. How Tom, the eldest, was
lionel, and went away nights because
he didn't like to hear mamma sing
hymns, and the buzz OF the spinning
wheel was so doleful, and daddy's hat
on the peg seemed to reproach him,
and look at him just as natural as with
eyes! And her mercy reached cut a
tendril, and took in the sorriest thing
that came to her child life. Then
the overseers Of the poor--two stern
faced, well-to.do farmers--came out
in a pung one raw day to see what
the circumstances of the widow were.
They sat in the two good chairs be-
fore the chunk-fire, and they rubbed
their hands and shivered, and leered
up the sick-chimney, and looked down
at the bare, blue legs Of the feeble
minded little boy IN the box in the
corner. And then they limited about
binding out the children. And the
frantic cry of the mother, who sat
listening with her hand on the rim of
the little wheel; and the hard, cold,
calculating faces OF the town officers !;
and the scared faces OF the little ones
huddling in heap. and feeling of one
another; all this came up to her as
she lay on the lounge-came like the
shifting scenes OF a picture, like the
views in panorama.
What sad pictures some of us have
stored away IN our memories. How
kind to our poor selves if we could
only forget or efface them!
And this little corner patch Of
dainty bingham was of the dress her
mother wore when she married old
Silas Ketchum, and the grown child
rem were ugly and abusive, and inn
posed upon the new mother, and old
Silas took sides with them, and after
q star@,y year or two taey separated,
again, the wounds would not heal, and
time could not obliterate and the
widow and her own family took up
the broken threads and managed
somehow---made the best Of unto ward
circumstances. And this was Of the
dress she had on when she and John
Long stood at the gate that memora.
BILE time. Alb, we'll, we'll This check
was of the gown her grandmother
spun, and dyed. and wove, all with
her own hands. She touched the sat
my linen-coppei as and white-to
her lips, it was so soft to the touch
so old, and though there was not an
atom of sentiment, none Of the novel
readers notions about Aunt Lydia.
she almost kissed the tell-tale patch
in that old quilt. Grandmother was
so truly grandmother, SO sweet and
tender, and her touch was healing. and
her words were balm, and so her
memory was sacred
That bit of pale blue was of her
hood, made long ago. when hoods
meant comfort, and warmth, aud good
sense. They bundled the ears away
in the soft folds, till they were like
ducks in their nest; only the pinky
tips of the nose, 'and the round, hard,
re cheeks OF the wearer were visible.
And she said, dreamiIy, as she ca
ressed the pretty blue atom, SHOW
sensible they did dress then, and how
the plump ankles used to show below
the petticoats, clad in yarn stockings,
whose gray or blue tint was the pride
of the woman of one or two accom-.
plishments, dyeing reckoned as the no.
blest and the best y
And then second-cousin Sally came
10 to sit little while, knitting her
mans double mitten az she walked.
three threads--blue. and red, and
white-caught round her fingers, after
the fashion familiar to speedy knitters.
And while she counted off the thumb
stitches, second cousin Lydia hap
pened to catch sight of striped.
brown and buff patch in one corner.
and that instant her tongue was
loosed cheerily, and she reeled off a
story about it as swiftly as she reeled
the brown thread off the spool long,
long ago. And Sally listened and
nodded, "Eh heb, Ell heh," and said,
claw me - and "Well now I" and
"Did ever!' A story something
about it being piece OF her apron !;
and while the apron was yet new, and
smelling of the store, che cut it up to
make clip for somebody's baby a
tiny might Tor which the mother had
made no preparation. The tale didn't
seem to have much point to it,so Sally
thought; but before it ended it was
like the stories in books The little
creature died, and the mother died,
and her body was stolen by grave
robbers, and while they were bearing
it away it seemed to speak in sepul-
chral tone, and the robbers were
frightened and ran, and left it lying
beside a stump, and early the next
morning the neighbors buried it over
again. And he, the husband of the
ill.starred wife and mother, took up
with woman not divorced, and thew
lived miserably and IN fear, and finally
ended in suicide.
All this did the little quilt patch
tell, and the narration ended with.
Poor Jasper Nichols folks said he
would come to some bad end. He in
suited Catholic priest one time. and
the priest laid ban for evil upon Kim.
and he could not escape from it,"