Evening journal. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1888-1932, 1918-01-22
Grandmother'S Story

In the Ions winter nights as the Wild
winds We're blowing,
Making moan mid the trees, weirdly
signing at the door
Round the los IRE that cracked, casting
charm DER the evening,
We listened breath-baied 70 stories by
score.
Ali how I remember my young heart
would gladden.,
As the shades Of the even fell down
Ger the day,
When the tread on the threshold echoed
its token,
That the neighbors were coming from
over the way.
And there sat poor Grandma, her hair
silv'ry shining.
Her brow bore the burrows Of sorrow
and care
The toil-worn hands DER my curly locks
stealing.
As nestled down close to her bis
armchair
TlN door is flung open; the neighbors
are welcomed:
The loud laugh rings long; in the
winds weary moan
It's echo Is lost, then the sweet sons Is
lifted;
o God give me back the dear days
that are gone.
As the strain slowly died and the wind
yet amoaned,
Fast nning the pause that merriment
made;
Closer round the log nre the gay group
is circling,
And with tales Of old times, the hours
swiftly fed.
Then stories. how many at the art
none eXcelling
The hoar-headed SWANS; Of more
heroic deed
OF devlish daring. Of war-woven hor-
rOr
OF spectral encounter, one never could
read.
But one that adreaming. awaking OF
4c sleeping
ga cherish more fondly whereer l may
steer
Ills Grandmother's story, she told it so
r1Zl plying,
The night just before the opening
New Year.
Tho then was seven full we'll / recall
How her age-worn form flashed the
freshness Of youth,
When pressed for a tale or some old
time tradition;
A pride in antiquity possessed her
forsooth.
Cold and chill was tho night every
soul Of us listened.
"The wind was astealing through The
leafless boueh,
The stars glowed and sparkled, the
earth fairly glstened.
Rejecting the moonbeams that fell on
Its brow"
IN that cold. bitter air, a poor little
orphan
Bare-headed and homeless roamed
bout the street;
Tho much-too-large slippers her dying
mother gave her,
She lost in the snow 10 escape horses
sll feet.'
"on and on went the poor little darling,
foot-naked,
Her frail. CHASTITY form red and blue
with the cold;
In an apron abearing a bundle Of
matches.
But no one would glance on the goods
that she sold"
And no one had proffered her even
penny.
Ger her wan face pity had frowned
with delight,
Fatherless. motherless, homeless and
hapless,
The dear little waif wandered into the
night"
Then Grandmother sighed, we all
grasped It's meaning,
Though old is that story, I can't st
repeat,
Without feeling within me the thrill Of
emotion"
Says she. "for that orphan I saw on
the street.
AS night strobe along and the lingering
tread iessened;
She sought out a shelter and then
huddled down,
Drawing her haf-fr0zen feet tween ihe
folds Of her clothing.
In stable closely the end of the
town"
fQuick she thought II a match might
not lend her some warmth,
She drew one, then scratch how IL
spuhered 70 flame,
10 shone like a candle; and her hands
holding DER 70
She slowly was lost IN a beautiful
dream"
And TO her it soon seemed as if she was
asitting
10 a gay, festooned room where a fire
burned bright.
Then stretching her limbs towards the
stove brightly polished.
The match-lame went out-the IRE
vanished from sight"
she again famed a match and again in
dreams drifted.
Now a snovy-white table with bounty
replete,
Fast flooded her vision; while thou
sands Of tapers
The windows embelhshed the New
Year 70 greet