Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1919-03-21
V|OU may have at home a little
Y brown trunk, squatting low un-

Y brown trunk, squatting low un-
der the rafters of the attic or
| crowded into a corner of the store
| room-a faded, dingy, battered OBJ
Ject, and yet q treasure chest OIL
precious things-of memories.
L remember just such a trunk
from childhood that used to stand at
the foot of my grandmother's wal
nut bed, and it seems as though the
strongest recollections of that dear,
dainty little lady with her white
curlS and lace cap are associated
with the little old leather trunk. III
she were not sitting at the big front
window knitting, she was bending
over the little brown trunk, finger
/ ing carefully its contents, patting
them lovingly in place, and then
closing the lid and carefully turn
! ing the key. We were never al
! lowed more than peeps at the con-
tents which possessed such charm,
because the little brown trunk was
one of the few things in the house
| forbidden us, and there was strange
| fascination in the bundles of old
| letters in their faded ribbon ties
which we sometimes saw grand
mother reading, and the garments
| folded with such care.
What else is in there, Donda?"
my older sister would sometimes
beg. PLEASE let us see."
But grandmother would only
smile kindly and say, There's moth
! ing here, dears, but few of grand
mothers treasures, that she's had a
long time. You shall see them all
when YOU are older"
And then one day / remember
| standing close by my mothers side,
and watching with wide, curious
| eyes, as she unlocked the little
brown trunk. Tears fell upon q roll
of unfinished knitting, and its gls-
tening needles she placed beside the
other things in the trunk, for grand
mother had fallen asleep at her task
with a smile on her lips that comes
only to those that hear the fluttet
of angels wings. Her dainty lace
caps, the little lavender rbboned
apron, the cashmere shawl, the silk
slumber robe she had pieced herself,
with its quantity stitched mottoes
and initials, had all been folded
lovingly away in the little brown
| trunk.
Another day when l had grown to
at her springtime cleaning, smiling
tenderly with tears in her eyes over
the contents of the little brown
! trunk. And as she removed the gar
ments one by one, touching them as
one does sacred things, she told mo
the story of each.
But she loved the little brown
trunk best of all her treasures, "
mother explained, for she had
brought it with her when she came
bride from Virginia.. And then
her only son, your Ur Gle Samuel,
had taken it with him to college,
and from there he had gone into the
war, and he had never lived to come
home with the little brown trunk.
An, dear soul. l had forgotten
she had kept these things" she add
ed as she united the faded ribbon
on nat little box. They are just
a few rose blossoms from Babv los
grave! Everything like this was so
precious to her. And here is her
own dear writing on this little pack
age. Ah. yes, flowers from INV
wedding hat 1 can scarcely make
out the words. See, these faded
morning glories-but she had her
wedding hat trimmed. in them he
| cause they were your grandfather's
favorite flower, and after they were
married he used to bring her n
bunch early each morning when he
made his first trip to his garden, and
here is his wedding coat and vest
Isn't it quaint? And I want you al
ways TO remember, daughter, that
I your grandm other wore her wed
| ding dress when she was buried"
! When the cross-stitched tides
with their prime ribbon bows, the
crocheted lambrequin, the christen-
! ing dress of that first little baby
dead so many years ago, had been
carefully folded away and the
quaint daguerreotypes and other
keepsakes rewrapped in their faded
wrappings, ] had helped my mother
roll the little brown trunk gently
back to its corner under the low
! rafters of the attic.
! And that was my last sight of the
little brown trunk until one day
when l was a woman grown I had
sought it out in the dull half light
of the attic gloom, and on my knees
before it, against its dirty. battered
! lid. I had cried my heart out.
"Oh, little brown trunk" 1 cried
you must understand"
I had brought from my mothers
+; room below a work basket of unfin-
/ ished work-a stocking in whose
even checkered darn of tiny stitches
a needle had been left, an apron
4