Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-11-16
The Grandmother.

Grandmother is so old, she has 80 many
wrinkles, and her hair is quite white; but
her eyes shine like two stars. Yes, they are
much more beautiful; they are so mild, so
blessed TO look into. Aud she can tell the
most delightful stories aud she has dress
OF thick silk that rustles; it is covered with
large flowers. Grandmamma knows so
much, for she lived long before papa and
mamma, that is certain. Grandmamma has
psslmbook with thick silver clasps, and
she reads 10 it often in it lies rose; it is
quite pressed and dry. II is not so fine as
the roses she has in the vase, and vet she
always smiles most kindly at it there even
come tears in her eyes. How can it be that
graudmamma always looks so fondlv upon
the withered rose in that old book Do you
know Each time that grandmammas 8
tears fall upon the flower its color revives, it
freshens again, and the whole room is filled
with the scent of it; the walls disappear as
though they were only fog, aud all around
is the green, beautiful wood, with the sun
shining through the leaves, and grandmam-
ma--yes, she is quite young She is beau.
tiful girl with golden locks and blooming
cheeks, engaging and lovely no rose is more
fresh yet the eyes, the mild, blessed eyes
they are still grandmamma's. BY her side
is seated youth--so young, 80 handsome
and strong He offers her the ross and
she smiles, but not thus smiles grandmam.
MAJ Yes--the smile comes. He is gone
many forms pass by; the handsome youth is
gone, the rose lies in the psalm-book, and
grandmamma-yes, there she sits as an ole
lady, gazing at the withered rose that lies ir
the book. Now, grandmamma is dead. She
sat in the easy-chair, and told long, long,
delightful story. "Aud now it is over,
she said, 81 and am quite weary; let me
sleep little" Then she lay back, drew
heavy sigh, and slept; but became more ant
more still, and her face was so full of peac,
and i1y, and it was as If the sun had shon,
upon it; then they said she was dead. She
was laid in the black cof6 l, enshrouded il
pure white linen she looked 50 beautiful
aud yet her eyes were closed. Bat all the
wrinkles were gone; asweet smile played OIL
her mouth; her hair was so silver white, SC
honorable, no one could be afraid to look a
her; it was the same benign, kind grand
mamma. And the psalm-book was lai
under her head as she had desired, aud tn
rose lay in the old book; and so they bul
ried her. On the grave, close under tn
churchwall, they planted rose tree, and
stood full of blossoms the nightingale SAM
over II, and from WITHIN the church IN
organ played the most beautiful psalms i
the book that lay under her head. An
the moon shone right down upon the grave
but the dead was not there; every chill
could fearlessly go there at night and pluc
a rose, there by the church-yard wall. Ca
that is dead knows more than all we livin
know; the dead know the dread we shoul
feel at anything so strange as that the
should come to us; the dead are better tina
we all and so they do not come. There
earth over the coffin, there is earth in i
The psalm-book with its leaves is dust, tn
rose with its associations has crumbled ini
dust; but above, fresh roses bloom--abov
the nightingale sings and the organ plays
one thinks of the old grandmother, with Il
mild ewes ever young, Eyes can never die
Ours shall one day see her, young and bea
tiful as when for the first time she kisse
the fresh red rose that lieth in dust in Il
! | praye-Hnns Christian A ndersen