Our grandmother sits down with a chirp
ing “thank ye”—she is not of the age that
lays “thunks"—and looks curiously about
her. PoHHibly she liad never rode in the cars,
(or her old eyes are full of childlike wonder
in>l surprise; and she has quite a long expla
nation from the conductor before she yields
her ticket tn him, and she watches him tear
jff a part of it as if he were doing a great
mischief. She even appeals to a fellow
(Messenger—after the smiling official had
passe<l on—to know if everything is all right,
*nd calmed by his cheerful assurance, she
aniles too, and admits that she “aint much
used to travelin’.”
A quaint, picture she is!—her shirred black
«ilk bonnet is twenty years old if a day, but
it has n fresh ruche inside ami glossy now
itriiigx, the black silk sliawl, pinned across
tier breast with a round gold brooch is of the
kind you remember seeing in your childhood,
ind her dress is a soft silken alpaca that can
tie an old lady’s best dress for many years
and give little sign of wear. People sitting
near her, if given to noticing trifles, can de
tect a faint, homely, clean odor as of dried
mint and lavender. She looks at the in
geniously hung lamps, the pretty transparen
cies in the upper windows, and passes her
hand gently over the velvet upholstery—
uniting a little retrospective sort of smile.
Perhaps she is thinking of the old stage days,
>r of the time years and years ago when she
and her husband traveled by canal and lake
■and river and possibly by ox-cart into these
(ar western wilds and set up their humble
new home with little capital but strong
hands and brave hearts.
