e forth to business or to battle:
he will not tell you of it, but he remembers grandmother and
grandfather, as he saw them a boy--the centre of the group, which will
never form again save in heaven.

Let us turn to

'THE GRANDMOTHER.

'Grandmother is very old, has many wrinkles, and perfectly white
hair; but her eyes gleam like two stars, yes, much more beautiful;
they are so mild, it does one good to look into them! And then she
knows how to relate the most beautiful stories. And she has a dress
embroidered with great, great flowers; it is such a heavy silk
stuff that it rattles. Grandmother knows a great deal, because she
has lived much longer than father and mother; that is certain!
Grandmother has a hymn book with strong silver clasps, and she
reads very often in the book. In the midst of it lies a rose,
pressed and dry; it is not so beautiful as the rose which stands in
the glass, but yet she smiles upon it in the most friendly way;
indeed, it brings the tears to her eyes! Why does grandmother look
so at the faded flower in the old book? Do you know? Every time
that grandmother's tears fall upon the flower, the colors become
fresh again, the rose swells up and fills the whole room with its
fragrance, the walls disappear, as if they were only mist, and
round about her is the green, glorious wood, where the sun beams
through the leaves of the trees; and grandmother is young again; a
charming maiden, with full red cheeks, beautiful and innocent--no
rose is fresher; but the eyes, the mild, blessing eyes, still
belong to grandmother. At her side sits a young man, large and
powerful: he reaches her the rose, and she smiles--grandmother does
not smile so now! oh yes, look now!----But he has vanished: many
thoughts, many forms sweep past--the beautiful young man is gone,
the rose lies in the hymn book, and grandmother sits there again as
an old woman, and looks upon the faded rose which lies in the book.

'Now grandmother is dead. She sat in the armchair and related a
long, beautiful story; she said, 'Now the story is finished, and I
am tired;' and she leaned her head back, in order to sleep a
little. We could hear her breathing--she slept; but it became
stiller and stiller, her face was full of happiness and peace, it
was as if a sunbeam illumined her feat