The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-05-23
GRANDMOTHER GARDEN.

II know of dear old garden where the
old-tine flowers grow
There are hollyhocks and lilies in long
and stately row;
There are lilac trees by the gateway, and
roses white and red
And the southernwood's spicy fragrance /,
follows the careless tread.
quaint, old-fashioned garden out OF lites
busy way,
Where the spell of vanished summers lin
gers the livelong day
Looking far back along the beaten track
of lifes highway, fond recollection pic
lures one spot of beauty that fingers in
memory like the beautiful halo that f1ushes
the evening sky long after the westering
sun has passed out of sight behind the far
away hills. This spot is the dear old gar
den where grew in sweet profusion the
old-fashioned flowers that grandmother
loved and tended. And now when life is
burdensome and the cares of the day are
manifold, the memory of that old garden
with it's sweet-scented flowers and the gen.
tie spirit who was its guard
ian angel, comes like benedic-
ton, and although outside my
den l hear the noisy clang of the street car
gong and the heavy tramp of the horses
hoofs on the asphalt street below, there are
far other sounds ringing within the fair
halls of memory-the gentle voice of the
dear old grandmother, the sweet prattle
of little playmate, the Tilt of the cardinal,
and the eerie voice of the wind playing
hide and seek in the fragrant boughs of
the gnarled old apple tree.
Only the other day little lass with gold
en- hair and sweet brown eyes invaded my
sanctum and, holding out in her tiny hands
a bunch of pansies, pleadingly asked me to
buy. They were not such pansies as grew
In, n 9th q rda
large and vari-colored, but still l pur-
chased them, for l could not resist the
pleading voice of the little flower maid
whose sweet face and beautiful eye re-
minded me of another lass whose laughter
rivaling the MARBLE of the birds, was the
sweetest melody known to the dear old
garden of the long ago.
And while l gaze upon these flowers in
the vase OH my study desk, a subtle charm
pervades my humble den, and for the time
1 forget the dull routine of duty and the
ceaseless round of daily toll and become
once more the willful schoolboy, walking
hand in hand with the little sweetheart
among the pinks and larkspur, and bache-
lor's button, and sweet-william of the old
garden, or lettering in the shady nook near
the old apple tree where clustered the
violets blue. Many a year ago the children
battled with the blue bonnets" and full
often the wilful lad bore away in triumph
the heads of the defeated army of the
Princess Golden Hair And sometimes,
when the fierce onslaught was at it's
height the dear old grandmother would
come upon the combatants, and for that
day at least the slaughter of the innocents
would cease. Not that grandmother cared
very much for the needless waste of
the sweet flowers, but it was pretty con-
ceit of the children to pretend that grand
mother was queen of some wonderful prov
ince in fairyland, sent as a hostage for the
defeated army. but who was kept captive
forever and "a day that she might beguile
the court of the victor with her wonderful
stories. Now you must know this fairy
queen always proved most willing cap
tive and her store of fairy legends was
seemingly as inexhaustible as that of the
marvellous story teller in the Thousand
and One Nights Tales"
The birds were numerous in the dear old
garden, for neither marauding cat nor mis-
chevous boy were allowed the freedom of
its precincts. In the summer time the birds
were very much at home within the garden,
and regarded it as favorite rendezvous or
trysting place. Every spring a pert and
ambitious red bird, with his demure little
mate, builded their home in the boughs of
the gnarled old apple tree In its topmost
branches he caroled forth many a song of
love and oftentimes screamed his note of
defiance at the malicious bluejay or other
feathered foe who CHANGED to come too
near his domicile. In the early morning.
when all nature was awakening to the
beauty of the first faint flush of dawn, his
voice could be heard bursting forth into
liquid melody, and when eventime with her
gray face came softly creeping over hill
and dale his dreamy lullaby sounded sweet
and low anear his loved ones asleep in their
swinging cradle among the fragrant apple
boughs.
A many years ago the little sweetheart
bade adieu to the dear old grandmother and
the willful lad and passed out between the
rows of arkspur and grass-pinks and
sweet-william to return no more to the fair
domain of the old garden. Grandmother
also answered the summons Of the silent
messenger and Joined grandfather and the
sweet lass in their abiding place in the far
off land where bloom and never-fading
flowers in the Garden Ever Beautiful. The
cardinal and his mate haunt no more the
fragrant boughs of the gnarled old apple
tree where once the eerie wind played
hide and seek among the blossoms blow
ing. The earthly garden where grew in
sweet profusion the old-fashioned flowers
that grandmother loved and tended has dis
appeared from the face of the earth but in
the heart and affection of the willful lad.
long since grown to mans estate, the mem
DRY of it's fair habitants will lnger as a
sweet oasis along the beaten track of life's
highway as long as life and love and hope
are left. BEN-ARDYS.