The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-02-07

Althea bushes grew :s the irone yard near the door, and when autumn came with it's haze and dreamy snnshine, and winds that whispered oi winter behind them, oken sat on the gallery and watched the leaves as the unseen hand of the bree.e desached them from their stems and dropped them sO the ground. On the west side of the building weep- ing willow bowed it's head in mourning, and beyond it. near the entrance to the garden, vine of tame honeysuckle had taken possession ot peach tree. and wrapped it from trunk to topmoss leai h sweet amorous folds. Here my grand father lived, and tended his garden, while his hired help cultivated his fields that spread out all around. Here ire quently came with my mother from the stiAing existence of town to the breathing life of the country. to find the most wholesome food, the most bracing air, and earth-room enough to give me new route through farms and dense woods every morning of the year. And here I also found a geod grandfather, whose pride in my father and my mother con- centrated in me; for surely he loved me with rare devotion, and prophesied for me a happy and glorious future. be- lieve every grandfather casts his last af- fections upon one graudchild of many by whom he may be surrounded. His heart leans towards one little form, in which he sees the germ oimanly strength, in the shape of whose head he beholds the tokens of all worldly wisdom, in whose bright and starry eyes he descries valorous courage, from whose infant lips fall words of wondrous meaning. and whose actions bespeak heart full of the noblest love and soul devoted to high and noble purpose. What great world this would be did such fancies ripen into truths
 This stick is hard as flint. It is sound as dollar of gold. The wear of time has served only to polish its surface and make it look more bright and new. But the hand that took it from its native wood is long since folded over a care worn breast and put out of sight forever The brave old man it once bore up is moulderins away in his grave in the gar den, while by him lies the wife who with him trod the path of life, and with him serenely walked into the limitless expanse of eternity. The house is deserted. Its doors are open, bu, no tenants are there. Through its rotted roof the rain comes down and flows over a hearth whose fires have bag gone out and will never burn again. The rude wind,sss whose cheerful rattle awoke me at daybreak as it in q.ick whirl sent the old oaken bucket ts the bottom of the well, lies broken on the ground. Marauding kline have destroyed the althea bushes, whose dead trunks support ifeless limbs that clatter a ghostly clatter as the wind shakes them. The peach tree has fallen to earth with its clinging freight. which forsaking its supporter runs riot over the grass and clings in hopeless desperation to the worm-eaten palings and tostering posts of the garden fence. The mul. berry trees alone survive, shaking their stalwart branches high in the air as if defying fate, and overlooking fields nov owned and tiled by stranger hands.
 love this stick because it was my grand fathers stick. It serves to keep his memory green within me. couture you to care for it when am gone |; for it tells you of one whose life was spent in lowly places but wh ose soul scared to the infinite. He was of those pioneers who made possible the civilization we arc supposed to enjoy. He worked and prayed throughout a long and laborious life !; and whenever you find yourself for- getting your duty to man and God, en- treat you to hold this stick up before you and call to serious memory every word say here
 Wanted an Emblem,