Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1881-01-07
The Old Blue Chest.

Oae lay last week, i've or six wome Il
with serious faces and hushed voices,
were gathered in room IN house on
Fort street east. For two years poor
old woman had lived there, not exactly
Il beggar nor an object of charity. but
certainly il want. She lad a husband
VIXEN she first moved there-a poor old
man whose days could not be long; but
one day he was missing. He may have
fallen into the river, or he may have
wandered ont into the country and died.
This left the old woman alone, and there
were days and days in which no one
went near her or addressed her. Tie
other day when she felt the chill Of
death approaching, she wanted some
cue with her. She had lived alone, but
she could not die. that way. She wept
as tender hands clasped hers and kind
voices addressed her. Death had al.
ready placed its mark ON her face, and
the women could do nothing. While
their tears fell upon her wrinkled hands
she passed away as child sleeps.
There was but little ia the room be-
You'd an old blue chest battered and
bruised and splintered, but yet holding
together. It hal seen strange times,
that old blue chest. 1t had held silks
and broadcloths perhaps-it had surely
held rags. 1t had been moved from
house to house and from town to town.
1t had listened to laughter. and had
heard sobs and means. 1t had grown
old no faster than the woman whose
hands had so often lifted it's lid. 1t
had doubtless kept the company of
good carpets and furniture and crock
cry, and laughing romping children
had climbed over it or hidden in it..
1t had faded land its hinges wore rusty
and weak, but it had outlived it's owner.
The women looked about for gar
ments in which to enshroud the dead.
Nothing was in sight. One of them
lifted the lid OF the old blue chest, and
called the others to help drag it out
from its dark corner. 1t held treasure
such treasure as men could not buy
nor poverty steal away. There was q
dress of fine material, cut after fash
ion of long years ago. For twenty
years the chest had been its guardian.
1t would have sold for few dollars,
but though the cravings of hunger had
come often and the cold had fought its
way to her marrow that poor old wom-
an would not part with that relic OF
better days. 1t may have been a link
Beneath it was treasure still more price
less. Carefully wrapped in paper was
a silver dime more than fifty years old.
A weeks fast would not have sent her
to the bakers with that relic. A child,
dead in its young years, had worn that
dime around its neck as gift or tails
man. There was child's mitten,
stained and worn, but mitten knit by
a proud young mother for her child.
1t could not speak to tell the dim past,
but it had power. AS the women saw it
they covered their faces with their
aprons and wept.
There was boys cap and girls hat,
both so old and faded and time. eaten
that they had to be tenderly handled.
The women looked from them to the
poor old white face on the bed and
whispered:
None but u good mother would
have treasured these relics. She was
old and poor, but her heart was pure"
Deeper down, as if to baths the
search of Time itself, was familiar
toy-a child's dumb watch. Hands
were broken and gone, face scratched
and case battered, but the women ham
died it as if touch would SILVER it.
There was q dolls head, boys fish
line, some toy chairs, a yarn ball, and
other things to show that in the
long ago that dead woman had felt the
soft kisses of children, heard their
"good nights and thanked Gol that
she was blessed. Each relic was wept
er-each was replaced with fresh
tear-stains. They asked the old blue
chest no questions. Its relics might
have been voiceless to q man, but to q
woman and mother each one had tale
in words as plain as print. They shed
more tears as they bent again over the
poor old dead, and they said to each
other:
"If she had only told us of this how
We would have loved her and sought
to Tighten her SORROWS"
Bat she had gone. She had come and
gone as mystery, and but for the old
blue chest in the corner few would have
cared, and none would have sorrowed.
- DstrOik Press