The true northerner., 1896-11-04
THE OLD HALL.

There had been christening that after
noon, and now 1t was toward evening.
The parents of the child sat with their
guests In a spacious hall-among them the
grandmother of the child's father. The
others were all near relatives, young and
old but the grandmother was a generation
older than the oldest. The babe had been
christened Barbara after her. But she had
also received a finer name, for Barbara
alone sounded altogether too old fashioned
for the pretty little thing. Nevertheless
she was TO be called by this name. So both
parents decreed, In spite of all the objec-
tions which their friends brought against
1t. But the old grandmother never sus-
pected that the utility of her long cherished
name had been brought into question.
The clergyman, after discharging his
Office TO the family circle had gone his way
a short time before, and now all the dearly
loved and oft repeated stories were brought
forth and retold, though not by any means
for the last time. First of all the delight
full and merry stories of childhood were
told When no one else knew them, the
grandmother could repeat them. Her own
childish days lay so many years In the past
that any one who could have told OF them,
save she herself must indeed have far ex
ceeded the age allotted to man. Amid
such conversation the twilight had come
on. The hall fronted the west, and a red
light streamed through the window upon
the plaster roses of the stucco work which
adorned the wall. Then 1t, too, faded.
From the distance a dull, monotonous
murmur made itself audible in the still
ness Some of the guests listened.
"That is the sea, said the young wife
Eyes" said the grandmother, Il have
heard it often. 1t has been so these many
years.
Then no one spoke again In the stone
court outside before the window stood a
tall linden, and one could hear the spar
rows settling In their nests among the
branches The host had taken the hand of
his wife, who sat by his side and his eyes
We're directed toward the intricate antique
stucco ceiling
"What are you thinking OFF" asked the
grandmother
"The ceiling is cracked" he said. "The
cornice is settling too. The hall is getting
old. We must rebuild it. "
"The hall is not so very old, >" answered
she. Il remember well when il was built. "
"Built? What was here formerly"
Formerly" repeated the grandmother.
Then she was silent for awhile, and sat
there like lifeless statue. Her glance
was turned toward the past, her thoughts
were with the shsdows of things whose
substance was no more
Then she said: lit is 80 years ago Your
grandfather and / used often to talk about
it. The hall door did not lead at that time
into wing of the house, but out of the
house into small flower garden. 1t Is no
longer the same door however. The old
one had glass panes, and one could look
through them down into the garden as one
came in at the front door. The garden lay
three steps down. The steps were provided
on both sides with gay Chinese balusters.
Between the beds, with their low borders
of box, ran a broad walk strewn with
white shells, leading to linden arbor in
front OF which from two cherry trees hung
a swing. On both sides of the arbor were
apricot trees carefully fastened against the
high garden walls. Here in summer at the
noon hour your great grandfather could be
seen regularly walking up and down trim
ming French cowslips and Dutch tulips In
the beds or tying them with hemp to little
white sticks. He was an exact and careful
man, and his black eyebrows with his
white powdered hair gave him very dis
tinguished appearance.
well, il was an August afternoon when
your grandfather came down the little
garden steps. But at that time he was far
from being your grandfather. can see
him now with my old eyes, as with light
tread he went up to your great grandfather.
Then he took letter out of neat en-
broidered pocketbook and handed IL with
graceful bow. He was young man with
gentle, kindly eyes and the black bag wig
set off well his glowing cheeks and pearl
gray cloth coat. When your great-grand-
father had read the letter, he nodded and
shook the young man by the hand He
must have been well disposed toward him,
for he seldom did that Then he was called
into the house and your grandfather
walked down the garden.
In the swing in front of the arbor sat
an S-year-old girl She had picture book
in her lap, in which she was reading in
dustriously. The bright golden curls hung
down over the hot little face on which the
scorching sun was shining.
What is your name2' asked the young
man.
She shook the hair back and said Bar
bara-
Take care, Barbara Your curls will
melt In the sun.
1.-THE little one passed her hand over the
hot hair. The young man smiled, and it
was very gentle smile There is no
need, he said. Come, let us have a swing.
''She jumped out, Wait. / must first
put up my book. Then she laid 1t in the
arbor. When she returned, he wanted to
lift her in. No, she said L can get in
alone. Then she seated herself on the mar
row swingboard and cried, Go onp and
your grandfather pushed the swing until
his cue danced now to the right, now to
the left, across his shoulders The swing
with the little maid went up and down In
the sunshine, the bright ourls blew free
from her temples, and yet It never went
nigh enough for her. But when the swing
Hew among the rustiing linden boughs, the
birds few out Of the trellis on both sides,