The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-03-07
THE OLD HOMESTEAD
By MII-rIE OWEN M.pA.Ip

grandfather allowed no one to pick but
 himself for grandmother to can and pre-
 serve. And what golden checked beau-
 ties they were, When company came
 they were always served in delicious,
 syrupy halves in the square cut glass
 dish
 There Is an Indian peach tree down
 by the orchard gate that brings happy
 thoughts. Twas planted by my youngest
 aunt; and when the juvenile cousins came
 in the summer from the city, we went
 on the war path and played scalping In
 dians in that tree. One cousin. merry boy with the handsomest face and dirt jest hands I ever saw. usually took the premium for sealping: and he ate all he scalped. His hands fairly reeked with
 ''biood' and dirt. Auntie is a grandmother now, but the old tree still bends meath it's load of pungent, red-meated fruit
 "bloody chieftains' and warriors next to the rows of soft clear-stones and close to a back fence hedged with box evergreens grew the pears. seekles and russets and noble Bartletts. The mel lowest and yellowest were to be found
 on the damp dark ground behind the hedge. where they had fallen from the tree, and were never molested by anyone but me. as I was the only one small enough to crawl under the hedge But my favorite of all was the red June; one very large tree in particular.
 It looked like perfect picture hook tree its branches were so green and symmet- l rical, and hanging heavy with a wealth
 of the reddest apples Truly the fruit of that enchanted tree the glad Alladin robed for me-"
 We liked always to have company in
 early March. for then the giant plum tree was in full bloom. It stood close to the house, and was so tall it reached , right up into the guest room window up- stairs and in the morning when the guest arose and threw open the blinds he found himself right in the mass of snowy white blossoms As we waited for him to appear at breakfast we looked at each other and smiled knowingly for we | knew just what his exclamation would be when he greeted us.
 Here across this very threshold where I sit. my grandfather a bridegroom of 10, led my grandmother. $ bride of F. And from this same portal in aftr years he
 watched two splendid sons ride away in defense of the southland. And through
 that same doorway their noble dead
 bodies were returnd to him.
 But though the old house had it's sor- rows it has it's joys as well. Happy young brides took the vows under the glass prished chandelier in the spacious front parlor.
 Laughing, care-free children played gleefully among the hollyhocks and roses and through the big gates passed many carriages filled with relatives and friends gay young cavaliers and winsome maid ems. It was also law of the house that no stranger be turned away. And down there by the gate still stands the old horse block with it's rickety steps leading up to it. How many times I have seen my handsome father gallop on horse back down the road under the ancient oaks; but no matter how fast he rode l was quickest to reach the horse block, or hitching post, and was always first to
 have his kiss as he sprang from his sad dle.
 Oh, to feel the clasp of his arms once
 more, and know again the comfort of his fearless, protecting love, Dear, dear old house. I'm glad you're mine; yet you make me sad. I want them all back, the treasures you once held. I know that all things must pass, all things change but oh, what joy 'twoud be to have those Eve loved and lost awhile come back for even so brief a space.
 But they are gone and am left behind to take up the work they laid asde Please God I may build as well.