The Democratic Press

Column for the Young:

GRANDFATHER'S BIBLE.

The stillness of a sweet Sabbath in June had settled over the country house where little Rose was visiting her grandparents. In the old-fashioned kitchen sat the grandmother, in her black silk gown and white cap, by the open window, reading from her large Bible, and smelling the honeysuckle just picked from the vine. Rose, fresh from her morning bath, and dressed in a white muslin frock, stood on the worn threshold of the door, looking out on the quiet meadows and orchard, and thinking that the very bees, cows, and chickens were remembering the Sabbath-day. On the kitchen table lay a hymn-book and paper-covered catechism. Rose took them regretfully, and seated herself on a low stool to study her lessons. Two hours must wear away before the village-bell would call them to the place where one day is better than a thousand elsewhere. Tears wet her blue eyes when she remembered the Sunday-reading after dinner in her mother's room, and the hour at the close of the day, when it seemed so easy to be good. Grandfather's Sabbath was surely longer. Thus mused little Rose on her cricket, trying to say perfectly,- "All mankind by the fall lost communion with God." Occasionally, she glanced at her grandmother, still reading through her silver spectacles, and wondered if she should ever really like to read in a Bible with large print. Presently, little Rose opened the door, and crept noiselessly up a smooth, un-carpeted staircase, to a part of the house where she always liked to linger, for the woodwork was made of the fragrant cedar. She loitered by a window looking out on the farm-yard and distant hills, before she could summon courage to tap at her grandfather's study door. From the room came a grand sound of strange words melodiously rolled off. Rose knew they were Greek and hesitated about disturbing the reader. There came a pause: Rose hastened to the door, and gave a timid rap. "Come in," said the grandfather in a loud tone. So little Rose entered the room of which she stood in great awe, for the walls were covered with dingy books of theology, and it did not seem a place where children could laugh and play. "Grandfather," said Rose, in a faint voice. "I came to ask you for a nice story-book to read before church; I'm so tired of sitting still." Then Rose looked at the book-shelves again; among the rows of leather-bound volumes there did not shine forth one red and gilt book just suited to a little girl. "A nice story-book, little child: why, here is one written on purpose for you:" and the old minister took from an upper shelf one of the brownest, most dingy books within sight, to the great dismay of Rose, who hoped there might be found in a very high row, one like her pretty books at home. "Here, child, is the first Bible I ever had; what a treasure it has been; truly a 'lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path;' it is the best book in the world, and the only one suitable for the Sabbath-day. Read it, little granddaughter, all your life, and it will make you a wise woman." Rose did not dare to remonstrate. Taking the old book, and thanking her grandfather not very heartily, she closed the door carefully, and went to her own room to seek some new amusement. The little white bed was nicely made, her Sunday bonnet and cape were laid out with her gloves and parasol; the dimity curtains were looped back, and the blinds closed. Rose took possession of a large easy-chair by a window, with nothing to divert her but the old, time-worn Bible, which she concluded to open: The type was small, and every now and then the long, old-fashioned s appeared to bewilder her. Rose happened to open at the place where it speaks of Christ's birth. It was easy to understand the account, there were no long words to perplex her. She then read in another place about the loaves and fishes, which seemed to her something like a large picnic on the grass. After church, in the pleasant summer evening, Rose, of her own accord, sought the old Bible again, and read in another place, making out the long s quite readily. At tea-time she said to her grandmother,- "Grandma, the Bible is nice, isn't it?"