The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1891-11-05
SELECTED.
BACK TO THE OLD HOME.

Such dear old house it was Nest
ling down in an old fashioned garden,
with an orchard full of weather. beaten
apple trees behind it, while an outer cir.
Gle of ancient cedars drew up about ii like
faithful guardians, the low, white house,
with its broad wings, made you think OF
d mother bird brooding over her well.hll.
ed nest. But the nestlings were all gone
now, had wandered far from the old
house, which seemed TO them shabbier
AMI more cramped every time they came
back for a visit
Only grandma chung to it closer and
closer as the years went by. When the
busy sons and fashionable daughters call
ed it lonely, and the grandchildren won
dered over its queer little cuddy holes,
and remarked with open contempt upon
the stiff old furniture aud tiny. paned win.
dows, the old lady listen, and said moth.
ing, but her heart throbbed with pain as
though she had heard the malignipg OF
some dear friend.
They don't, of course, know" she
thought excuslng them In her gentle way.
Though to other eyes it may seem poor
and old fashioned, TO me it never can be
so, for 1t is the first, the only home | ever
had" And after the sad, tender manner
of the old, who have only happy past
and empty present without Turing future
here, she fell a-dreaming of by-gone
times, when her faithful John had brought
her a bride to this dear home, which
seemed so grand and beautiful then, after
an orphaned childhood and girlhood with.
out settled home.
| How could 1t ever seem lonely and hum
bic to her, when il was so rich In thous.
and happy, blessed associationsS Had
not she and John planted that very noun
tain ash together? Had not that been
Johns favorite rose bushi And coulC
the rooms ever seem empty and cramped
to her, when every nook and corner spokt
to her sometimes of the living or dead, at
eloquently as tongue could dor
Here was where she used to sit and
| watch the fire on winter evenings, rock
ing the cradle with her foot, while she
toasted the bread john liked brown to Il
shade. This dark spot on the worn floor
was where baby May had turned the ink
over while she sat writing to the soldier
father far away, where the Potomac roll.
ed its bloody waters. And here beside
the crntre-table, on which lay the well
thumbed family Bible. she had knelt and
prayed for twenty years with John, pray
ed with her little ones in fearful grief
when he was gone, prayed for them when
they slipped from her arms out into the
world. and where she still nightly bent
her stiff, old knees to pray for them and
| theirs.
Grandma only loved the old house bet
ter as the years rolled by, but when OLD
Phebe, who had been half servant hall
companion to the old lady, died, it was
decided in family council that she mus
really make up her mind to live with one
or the other of them, and it was out OF
all question her remaining in that gloom,
old house all alone.
So one sad day, overpowered by thu
sons and daughters, who meant to be
kind, grandma went softly to and fro
over the Old house, taking leave of 1t all
and the last of the farewells was the visit
paid to the two mounds under the oak
where John slept, and the 1rst-born little
son. Then, with feeling that the world
had come to an end, grandma drove away
to the fine big residence they don't call
them homes nowhere Henry and Hen
ry's wife, who, for all her kindness, rs-
ther overpowered grandma with her fine
ways, had given her a stately room, and,
what was most dreadful, maid A maid
that called her Madam aud for Yes
said "Oui!'
Yes, they meant to be kind to her, hut
the gray stone pile and the maid gave the
old lady the feeling that she was in 81
asylum and had keeper, and in spite Of
all her grandeur, grandma's wrinkled
cheeks lost their soft pink, like that of q
half -withered rose, and she grew feeble
and worn, though every one was so busy
tI. Il 4 h., ,t.,,
for the old home, though she felt it
would be ungrateful to say so, and some
how to pray in the magnificent church,
where she sat In velvet-cushioned pew,
did not seem to give her help, for Col
was not close to her, she thought, as He
used to be when she knet at home. II
she could only go back and tell her friend
all about it., just once, kneelng where
John seemed to come and join her Thi-
feeling grew and grew, though as there
was no one to tell it TO, she shut it up in
her own lonely heart.
One morning the French maid came
running down to the family with great ex
element IN her dark face, and in broken
English Informed them that MADAM had
slept not In her couch, nor could Celeste
find her anywhere though she search,
she search everywhere"
Then Henry recollected all at once that
he had rather neglected his mother lately.
Mrs. Henry forgot her "cultured' calm
ness and joined in the search weeping hit
terly. Jane came running in with re-
proaches for herself and all the others.
Joe left his desk for once and set tele-
graph wires to work. and confusion and
grief reigned supreme, while the sons and
daughters found their minds wandering
back to childhood and "mother," as they
had not done for years, and | think the,
learned over again, and far more perfect
ly the lesson of tilis love.
Hours passed, and no news came of the
missing, and fears grew graver and
stronger, till at last Henry, walking the
door In anxiety, exclaimed suddenly, IS
the idea struck him, shes gone home! p
and running to drawer In his desk,
where keys of every size and form lay
punched and singly, he turned them hasti
ly over.
eyes, the key is gone, and she has wan
dered back home. I'm sure of 1t, Why
we did not think OF it before, caunot