Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1882-10-23
DRRAM-CaILDREH-A REVERE.


DREAM-CHILDREN-A REvEEIE.
Children love to listen to stories about
their elders when they were children tc
| stretch their imagination to the conception
Of a Evolutionary great uncle, or grandame
whom they never saw. Il was in this
spirit that my little ones crept about me
the other evening to hear about their
great grandmother Field, who lived in a
great house in Norfolk IA hundred times
bigger than that in which they and papa
lived, which had been the gcene-so al
least it was generally believed in that part
of the country-of the tragic incidents
which they had lately become familiar
with from the ballad of the 60 Children in
the Wood" Certain it is that the whole
story OF the children and their cruel uncle
was to be seen fairly carved out in the wood
upon the chimney-piece of the great hall
the whole story down to the Robin Red
breasts-till foolish rich person pulled il
down to set up marble one of modern
invention in its stead, with no story upon
it. Here Alice put out one of her mother
looks, too tender to be called upbraiding.
Then | went on to say how religious and
how good their great. grandmother Field
was, how beloved and respected by every.
body, though she was not, indeed, the mis-.
tress of this great house, but had only the
charge of it land yet In some respects she
might be said to be the mistress of it tool
committed to her by the owner, who pre-
ferred living 10 a newer and more fashiona.
bic mansion, which be had purchased some.
where in the adjoining county but still
she lived In IL in a manner as if it had been
her own, and kept up the dignity of the
great house in sort while she lived, which
afterwards came to decay, and as nearly
pulled down, and all its old ornaments
stripped and carried away to the owners
other house, where they We're set up, and
looked as awkward as if some one Were to
carry away the old tombs they had seen
lately at the Abbey, and stick them mp in
Lady C.s tawdry gilt dining room. Here
John smiled, as much as to say, "That
would be foolish indeed. ?" And then /
told how, when she came to die, her funeral
was attended by'a concourse of all the
poor, and some of the gentry, too, of the
neighborhood, for many miles round, TO
show their respect for her memory, be.
cause she had been such good and re-
lgious woman-so good, indeed, that she
knew all the Psslter by heart, aye, and a
great part Of the Testament besides. Here
little Alice spread her hands. Then I told
what q tall upright, graceful person their
great grandmother Field once was; and
how in her youth she was esteemed the
hes. daacez-z-kors Alieo's little right foot
played an Involuntary movement, till, upon
my looking grave, it desisted-the best
dancer, was saying, in the county, till a
cruel disease, called a. cancer, came, and
bowed her down with pain; but it could
never bend her good spirits, or make
them stoop; but they were still upright,
because she was so good and re.
ligious. Then l told how she was used
to sleep by herself in lone chamber OF
the great lone house and how she believed
that an apparition of two infants was to be
seen ct midnight gliding up and down the
great staircase near where she slept; but
she said, "Those innocents would do her
no harm :" and how frightened I used to
be, though in those days had my maid to
sleep with me, because I was never half go
good or religious ss she, and yet never
saw the Infants. Here John expanded all
his eyebrows. and tried to look courageous.
Then I told how good she.wss to all her
grandchildren, having US to the great house
in the holidays, where i in p.rrcuiar used
to spend many hours by myself in gazing
upon the old busts OF the twelve Cn sars
that had been Empsrors of Rome, till the
old marble heads would seem to live again,
or turned into marble with them how
never could be tired with roafling abou.
that huge mansion, with its vast empty
rooms, with their worn-out hangings, fut.
tering tapestry and carved oaSen panels,
with the gliding almost rubbed out-some
times in the spacious old.fashioned gardens
which had almost to myself, unless now
and then solitary gardening man would
cross me-and how the nectarines and
peaches hung upon the walls without
my ever offering to pluck them, be-
cause they were forbidden fruit, un
less now and then-and becgnss- had
more pleasure in strolling about among the
old melancholy. looking yew.trees, or tn,
| frs, and picked up the red berries, and the
| fir.apples, which were good for nothing
but to lock at-or in lying about upon the
fresh grass, with all the fine garden SMELL
around ue-or baskiug in the orangery
till could almost fancy myself ripeninl
toe, along with the oranges and the lines
in that grateful warmth--or in watching
the dace that darted to and fro in the fish
pond, at the bottom of the garden, will
here and there great sulky pike hangin!
midway down the water in silent state, Al
if it Knocked at their impairment frisking
I had more pleasure in these busy.idl,
| diversions than in all the sweet havors O
peaches, nectarines, oranges and such lik,
common bats OF children. Here JohI
silly deposited back upon the plate bunct
| of grapes, which, not unobserved by Alice
he had meditated dividing with her, anG
both seemed willing to relinquish them fol
the present as irrelevant. Then, in somewhat
a more heightened tone. told how, though
their grandmother Field loved all he
| grandchildren, yet, in an especial manner
she might be said to love their uncle, John
| L., because he was SO handsome anG
| spirited youth, and a king to the rest o
US and, instead of meping about in soil
tsry corners like some of us, he woulS
mount the most mettlesome horse he eoule
get, when bat an imp no bigger thar
| themselves, and make it carry him hal
| over the country in morning, and joir
the hunters when there were any out--ano
yet he loved the old great house and gar
dens too, but had too much spirit to b,
| always pent up within their boundaries
and how their uncle grew up to mans es
tate as brave as he was handsome, to tn,
admiration of everybody, but of thei
great-grandmother Field most especially
and now he used to carry me upon hi
| back when was a lame. footed boy-for h,
was good bit older than me-many /,
mile when I could not walk for pain anc
how, in after life, he became lame footed
too, and | did not always Il feaf) make al
lowances enough for him when he was i'm
| patient, and in pain, nor remember suffi
GENTLY low considerable he had been to mt
when was lame-.ooted and how, wher
| he died, though he had not been dead ar
hour, it seemed as if he had died greaI
while ago, such distance there is betwix
| life and death and how bore his death
as thought, pretty well at first, bat after
wards it haunted and haunted me anc
though / did not cry or take it to hear
| as some do, aud as | think he woulc
have done if had died, yet I missed
| him all day long, and knew not till thel
| how much / had loved him. / missed hi
kindness, and / missed his crossness, ant
wished him p be alive again, to be quar-
1iII11 " sf Rin asaia s'n ss'
him as he, sh bel