The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1883-10-27
A LITTLE OLD LADY.
A Grandmother Aboard the Train
Her old Eyes Full Of Child
Like Wonder.

we SC0p II b QuloC COuAtEy kslue Via
has recently achieved a station-for
only enc other building is visible -
ana a little old grandmother comes
among us. A farm wagon is at a re-
spectacle distance with q careful old
man holding the bits of the fat and
sleepy old horses, who do not even
dream of being frightened. Tne lit
tie old lady calls out something to
the distant old man who smiles In
the doubtful way of q who does
not understand q word, and .ht
would like to linger on the platform
and say more parting words to the
elderly daughter who has came to
e her off, but the brakeman gently
assists her within and slams t re door.
She gives a little stagger as the train
moves on, sinks into the first vacant
seat, ana turning to the window mods
to her daughter, who smiles back re-
assuringIy. A kindly gentleman
leans forward and tells her of q better
seat further down, and carries her
large covered basket for her, and
partly lowers the blind where the Jul
is streaming in. People are always
kind to the very old and the very
young; it is the forlorn middle-aged
who are permitted to care for them
selves.
Oar grandmother sits down with a
chlrping thank ye''-she is not the
age that says ''thanks''-and looks
curlously about her. Possibly she
had never rode in the cars, for her
old eyes were full of child. like won
der and surprise; aud she has quite a
long explanation from the conductor
before she yields her ticket to him.
and she watches him tear off a part
oft as if he were doing a great mis-
chief. She even appeals to a fellow
passenger, after the smiling official
had passed OH, to know if everything
is all right. and calmed by his cheer
full assurance, she smiles too, and adj
mits that she ''ain't much used to
travlin'."
a quaint picture she is!-her shir-
req black silk bonnet is twenty years
old if a day, but it has a fresh ruche
inside and glossy new ribbons; the
black silk shawl, pinned across her
breast with a round gold brooch is
of the kind you remember seeing in
your childhood, and her dress is a
soft silken alpaca that can be al old
lady's best dress for many years and
give little signs of wear. People sit
ting near her, if given to noticing
~trities, "a detect q faint, homely,
clean 0dor as Of dried mint and
lavender. She looks at the ingeni-
ously hung lamps, the pretty trans
parencies in the upper windows, and
passes her hand gently over the vel
vet upholstery-smiling a little retro
spective sort of smile. Perhaps she
is thinking of the old stage days, or
Of the time years and years ago when
she aud her husband travelled by
canal and lake and river and posi-
bly, by ox-cart into these far western
wilds and set up their humble new
home with little capital but strong
hands and brave hearts.
Against the Establishments of the
fruit and egetable.ivory boy she sets
y mild but firm face-fgs and novels,
bananas and late papers, oranges and
railway guides, all are waved polite
~ aside. 1t is only before the basket
of pears, yellow and sweet as Jumps
Of summer sunshine, that she waivers
tor moment, but the old pears are
waved Oh also. I buy of them and
presently extenda couple of them to
her with my sweetest smiles-which
perhaps is never very sweet. She re-
ceives them first with surprise and
then the same chirping "thank ye,"
and regards them tondly. "They're
the first pears I've seen in more than
forty years." she explained.
Reti ing into my newspaper l see
her fondling and smelling them in a
mild sort Of x tacy and for a moment
she meditates actually eating one,
but controls herself and puts them
carefully away in the great basket.
They are too precious to her to be
eaten in this public glare.-Peck's
M.