GRANDMOTHERS "Grandmothers are very nice folks, I'm sure I can't see it at all, What a poor fellow ever could do And if he is bad now and then, And say, 'Ah, these boys will be boys!' 'Life is only short at the best, Let the children be happy to-day ;' Then they look for a while at the sky, And the hills that are far far away. Quite often, as twilight comes on, Grandmothers sing hymns, very low, And then, a boy stopping to think, I wish they could stay here and pray, I LIVED with my granny then-ay, with my yranny. We never called her grandmother in those days; and, laugh at me if you like, boys and girls, I can tell you this, though we never said then, as you say now, 'grandmamma,' there was no dearer word ever heard among us children than that dear old word, GRANNY. My mother had died, so I lived with my granny on the farm. I don't just remember itI can see it; and I wish I could help you to see it. But you couldn't, even if I were to tell you all about it. If I were to tell you all about the church steeple that I see quite plain-if I were to tell you about the barn next door, and the cow-shed, and the hen cote, and the hay-stack, and the spring well near by-you wouldn't see it as I see it, so I won't trouble to tell you. But I must tell you about the hearthstone. Many's the queer old story I've read in that chimneycorner. It was a warm corner on winter nights. There was a huge hole into the wall on that side the fire. Four biggish lads could have crept into that hole all at once, and slept there too. It was the oven. None of your peddling little pieholes. It was huge enough to hold pies for an army; and so that corner was warm. Whenever I could get the rough, home-made arm-chair into this corner, I'm afraid school-lessons somehow ran away out of my head up that huge hole, and got lost among the burning turf. It was so easy, the old chair. It was wide enough, and deep enough, and soft enough to hold the biggest farmer-man; and so a bit of a boy like me might sink back into it, snug and cosy as a kitten, and somebody might come and squat down right on to me, not knowing that there was anybody there! The hearthstone was white-not marble -not a bit of marble about it except when my marbles were rolling about on it, and anybody who trod on them would go rolling about the floor quick. The hearthstone was white, cleaned by granny's own hands. The turf in the firegrate smoked, and winked, and blinked, and blazed. The chain, the iron-bar, and the ironhook over the fire, where granny hung the kettle on, glimmered and flashed in the fire-light. The long case-clock ticked and ticked as if it wasn't in the least hurry to strike the Old Year out. Two crickets under the oven, on the warm side, were doing their best to sing, trying which could out-sing the other. And I sat in the arm-chair listening. Listening, was I? Well, maybe a lad can listen and be asleep too. I knew there was nobody else in the house except the big clock and the tiny crickets. I knew they were all away at the church except me. And I'ın sure I knew, so I couldn't be dreaming, that I didn't believe in ghosts. No boy ever does believe any such stuff. Doesn't a boy always whistle when he's by himself in the dark? That shows he isn't afraid. Girls don't whistle when they're in the dark-they scream. That shows they're afraid. Boys never do fear anything; not they. That boy who had to go through a churchyard one night whistled well suddenly he heard another sound. It was louder than his whistle. He stopped. Then he started to his heels like mad. Then he fell down, leggedup by something in the church-yard. He had fallen on it. He felt it. He felt it. It was HAIRY! shrieked, sprang up, ran; and never stopped until he got home and jumped under the bedclothes just as he was. The hairy thing was a h enough until He |