St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1884-07-05
A SERVICE OF SONG.

A SERVICE OF SONG.
The girls had gone to town. Grand
ma sat in the open sitting-room door,
sewing. Grandfather stood in the cool
shade at the long work bench at the
end of the kitchen. making new sin
gle-tree for the light wagon. They
could not see each other [ doubt if
they heard, or at any rate observed,
each others voices. but could plainly
see and hear each one, and I forgot my
book, listening to them and trying to
guess their thoughts from their dis
jointed, changing, abrupt fragments Of
song And the occasional fiutter of the
leaves stirred by a wandering breath of
wind, the shadows dimpling the second
growth of red clover, the straying note
of a restless bird, the long, dusty road,
stretching far away past the woods to
the ..high prairie" the flash of but
terf1y's wings-how it all harmonized
with the broken songs that fell almost
unconsciously at times from the old
business of the house." and in all that
hour of peace, while "the whole earth
is at rest, and is quiet, they break forth
into singing"
A fash of bright beautiful blue from
the willows and kingfsher, with his
lonesome cry, skinned pool in the
slough with plash and sped away.
The old mans ewes followed the flight
of the bird, and ther rested a moment
on the wandering stream, lettering
away to the woods on the Schnebly
farm, and the strong voice sang to old
..Exhortation:'
"Our life is q dream:
Our time, as stream,
Glides swiftly away,
And the fugitive moment refuses to stay;
The arrow is flown:
The moment is gone
80, may we all remember well
The night of death draws near
came from grandma's lips, and she
hadn't opened them before in half an
hour until the clock struck four. Her
voice died away, while l listened for
more, for her old HYMNS AS she sang
them were always known unto us ''as a
very lovely song of one that hath q
pleasant voice and can play well on an
instrument" l heard the old clock
give its hectic cough, as if in illnstra-
ton of the HYMN. Grandma wearily
turned the work in her hands, and the
measures of ..Brown" swelled out in
"Jerusalern my happy home,
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my labors have an end"
A broken thread broke the song, and
when the busy needle resumed its
flight, the dear old singer had passed
to the closing line of the next staDza:
"And streets of shining gold"
knew how the busy brain and the
tired hands longed for rest, and l won
dered if she wasn't thinking of all the
wears of WEAKNESS and toll, and of a
certain mortgage that with its black
wings of threatening and terror had been
lowering above the farm for years like
a hawk. / didn't have a very clear
comprehension of mortgage, l am
afraid, but knew that times had been
easier and money more plentiful since
it had been lifted, and l was pretty
certain that streets paved with gold
would scare away the biggest blanket
mortgage that ever covered an improved
quarter.
The click of falling frame and the
beseeching ''cheeps" of half dozen
terrified chicks caught in my latest i'm
proved quail trap, set where no quail
was ever known to come. Grandfather
stepped away from the bench to relieve
the unharmed captives, for 1 never
moved, fearing demand for explana
: ton, and in a moment the plaintive
minor strains of quaint old ''Hyacinth"
sang out:
II delivered thee when bound,
And when wounded. healed thy wound ;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness"
20. the transporting. rapturous scene
That rises to my sight:
Sweet fields arraycd in living green"
and at the sound of Grandma's s voice
turned my face. and saw the wrinkled
hands dropped in her lap as she sat
looking out on the long pasture. over
the great rolling field where we sowed
the first crop of Hungarian, the fringing
woods and the wide meadows all flooded
in glorious sunshine-how could she
sing anything else? Triumphant as the
psalm of the long rolling surf, the beau
tiful voice sang on for moment. and
then the old hands picked up the work.
md the melody dralssd into the sad