The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1884-06-26
A SERVICE OF SONG.


A SERVICE OF SONG.
The girls had gone to town. Grand
nla 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 q new sim
ele.tree for the light wagon. They
could not see each other. I doubt if
they heard, or at any rate observed,
each others voices. but could plainly
see and hear each one, and / forgot my
book, listening to them and trying 60
guess their thoughts from their dis
ioinfed, changing, abrupt fragments of
song. And the occasional fiutter of the
leaves stirred by wandering breath of
wind. the shadows dimpling the second
growth of red clover, the straying note
Of q restless bird, the long, dusty road,
stretching far away past the woods to
The sshigh prairie, the flash of a but
serhy's wings it all harrnonized
with the broken songs that fell almost
uneonsciously at times from the old
lips while .'the singers were over the
business of the house, and in all that
hour Of peace. while e.the whole earth
Is at rest, and is quiet, they break forth
into singing
A Fash of bright beautiful blue from
the willows and kingisher, with his
lonesome cry, skinned a pool in the
slough with a plash and sped away.
The old mans eyes followed the flight
Of the bird, and then rested a moment
On the wandering stream, lettering
mgay to the woods on the Schnebly
farm, and the strong voice sang to old
Exhortation:'
"0nr life is dream: ~
Our time, ls q stream,
GlideS swiftly away,
and the fugitive moment refuses TO stay;
The arrow is flown:
The moment is gone
30 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. E[er
voice died away, while / listened for
more, for her old hymns as she sang
them were always known unto US s'as a
very lovely song of one that hath a
pleasant voice and can play well on an
Il
give its hectic cough, as if in illlstra-
ton of the hymn. Grandma wearily
turned the work in her hands, and the
measures of Brown swelled outin
Jerusalem my happy home,
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my labors have an end"
Abroken thread broke the song, and
when the busy needle resumed its
tight, the dear old singer had passed
to the closing line of the next staDzs:
"And streets of shining gold"
knew how the busy brain and the
tired hands longed for rest, and ! won
dered if she wasn't thinking Of all the
years 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
hawk. | didn't have very clear
comprehension of mortgage, am
afraid, but knew that times had been
easier and money more plentiful since
I had been lifted, and / 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
oeseeching ''cheeps'' of half dozen
serrihed chicks caught in nv latest inn
proved quail trap. set where no quail
vas ever known to come. Grandfather
stepped away from the bench to relieve
sae unframed captives, for / never
moved, fearing demand for explana-
aon, and in moment the plainGive
mlnor strains of quaint old ..Hyacinth'
sang out:
delivered thee when bound,
And when wounded, healed thy wound
sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Iurned thy darkness"
" the transporting, rapturous scene
Ihat rises to my sight;
sweet fields arrayed in living green"
anu at the sound of Grandma's voice /
suFned my face, and saw the wrinkled
aasas dropped in her lap as she sat
.9oAing out on the long pasture, over
sae great rolling field where we sowed
sas afst crop of Hungarian, the ringing
Mools and the wide meadows all iooded
8 glorious sunshine-how could she
sag anything else? Triumphant as the
esasm OF the long rolling surf, the beau
~ voice sang on for moment. and
~ Iae old hands picked up the work,
SFs sae melody drllled infp sae sad