The Meeker herald., 1897-01-16


He lifted her out of the swing. and
she wet to the tlellls. There lay tho
dsrk-yelow fruit and the foliage.
"'YoE thrush has given you treat
~ said
"She shook her lead and laiA .
beautiful apricot in his hand. YOU
sAs sah, softly.
"NoW your great-E-nndfather came
back to the garden fsain. Take care
said ne You will hGt easily get rid of
her Then he spoke Of business mat
terA AID beth went into the aouse.
ia the evening little Barbara was
allowed to sit at the table with them.
The Kind young man had asked for
har Things were not quite as she
could have wished. The guest sat at
ths table beside her father; but she
was otly little girl as yet, and had
to ~ DOWN at the foot, next the young
est clerk, and that Is why she finished
her supper too soon. Then she rose
and Stole to her fathers chair, but he
was talking so earnestly with the
young man over premiums and dis
counts that the latter had no eyes for
the little Barbara. Yes, yes, 1t is
eighty years ago. But the old grand
mosher remembers well how impatient
ukkiC plld klt" III anu was
not to be propitiated by her good faith
eY. The clock struck 10, and now she
had to say good night. When she came
to -FOUR grandfather he asked her,
Shall we swing again tomorrow
and Barbara was quite happy once
more. He makes fool Of himself
over children said your great-grasi- J.
father, but, in reality, he was himSf1f
unreasonably fond of his little girl.
'1The next day, toward evening, the
young man went away.
Then eight years passed. In the
winter time little Barbara would often
stand by her glass door and breathe on
the frosted panes. Then che would
look out through the peep-hole down
into the snowy garden and think of the
beautiful summer time, of the dane
ing leaves and warm sunshine, and the
thrush which always made its nest in
the trellis, and how once the ripe april
cots were shaken down upon the
ground, and then of one particular
summer day of which she always
thought, when she thought OF summer
at all. So the years went by. Little
Barbara was now twice as old-in fact,
she was no longer little Barbnra-but
that one summer day was always n
he came again"
"Who?" asked her grandson, smiling
''The summer day."
"Yes," said the grandmother. "He
was a veritable summer dny."
And them
"Then there was betrothal, and lit
tie Barbara became your grapdmoth-
er, who now sits among you, telling old
tales. But 1t had not yet gone quite so
far rs that. First there was n we'd
ding, and then your grandfather had
his hall built. With the garden and
the flowers all was now indeed over.
But he had no longer need of them.
He soon had living flowers to enliven
his noon hours. When the hall was
finished the wedding came of there. 1t
was merry wedding, and the guests
talked about it long afterwnrd. You
who sit here, you were not present
then. it Is true, but your fathers and
grandfathcrs, your mothers and grand
mothers were, many of them, and they
pan1la who could nut In their
word. Those were quiet, modest days.
We did not seek to know more than
the kings and their ministers. and he
who thrust his nose into politics was
called by us state tinker and ii ho
Wcle IL we kdNt LILO hi'iS
bors our boots to mend. The servant
maids were all named Urine and StiHc,
and every one wore n dress which
suited his position. Now you even
wear mustnches. like young squires or
cavaliers. What would you have,
pray? Do you all want to rule, too1
ayes, grandmother" said the host
"And the nobility and the high ge'-
try, who were born for that, what ID
to become of them?"
"Oh, nobility" said the young moth
er, looking up into her husbands face,
with proud, loving eyes.
He smiled and said, abolished,
grandmother. or we shall all be bar
ons. all Germany, man and mouse. L
see no other alternative"
The grandmother made no response
to this. She only said: AT my we'd
ding there was no talk abo'lt state his
tory. The conversation went on Its
even gait. and we We're just as happy
as you, in your new-fangled compa-
MES At table amusing riddles werc
propounded ond doggerels composed.
At dessert we sang, Your health, my
good neighbor, till empty the glass
and all the other pretty songs that are
now forgotten. Your GRANDPA thsr's
clear, tenor voice was always to be
distinguished. People were more po-
lite to each other in those times. Dis
putting and clamor We're regarded as
very unseemly in fine company.
Now everything has come to b ediffer-
ent; but your grandfather was gell-
tie, peaceable man. II is so long since
he left this world. Iie went on beforo
Irie. 1t Is .ime that l followed him"
The grandmother was silent mo-
mcpt. No one spoke-only she felt her
hands seized. Every one wanted to
hold them. A peaceful smile fitted
over the dear old face Then she
looked up at her grandson and said:
Here in this hall stood also his coffin.
You were at that time only six years
old, and stood by the coffin weeping.
Your father was an austero, undemon-
strative man. Don't cry. little one
he said, and lifted you upon his arm.
See, this Is the way an honest man
looks when he is dead and then he
secretly brushed away the tears from,
his own face, He had always a great