Speaking to Children
To-day we come my children, fair.
To give a crown
Of beauty rare
To that good day
Which mortals keep
In festal play
Or (?) deep.
The day which gives the boon most blest,
And things most good
To human breast.
Turning to new years:
New Year’s Day; my eldest born,
Now speak in accents clear,
And tell your message to the world
So all of us may hear.
New Years speaking:
I tell her what I think of her piece

Year: You teach a lesson pure and good and if mortals always could
Keep the vows they pledge to you
How happy life!
How pure and true!
To the next holiday
Who comes here in costume gay?
What is your message, daughter say?
Holiday speaking:

Year: Yes child, I grant your message great
For each and all must love the state
Love of home is dear to Heaven
A holy trust to mortals given.
Addressing Memorial Day
Speaking to Holiday.

I see a sad robed sister here
Speak, mourner speak, what brings that tear?
Holiday speaking:

Year: A message sweet, tho sad you thing,
I grant I rather ;ole this thing
Of teaching sentiments so kind.
This elevates the youthful mind
And gives the heart a bent of good
Through all the days of sweet child-hood.
(To fourth of July)
Speaking to Holiday.

Year: Who is it next that comes
And things sound of drums?
(Holiday Speaking)

Year: I love that day with noisy glee
Of mimic fray and jollity
(speaking to holiday)

But who comes here with merry face
And step with mellow autumns grace?
Holiday speaking

Year: Yes daughter sweet, your part is well,
Your message meet.
(Speaking to Holidays)

Now who is this that comes in white,
Around her head a halo bright?
(Holiday is speaking)
(year is speaking to holidays)
Children here, you see them stand,
These holidays so good and grand?
Now choose the best, the one most dear,
And we will crown your favorite here,
(Children speaking)
Year speaking to holidays

Dear children, she is worthy
To be your queen of days,
In all your plays and merriment,
Remember what she says;
“Peace on earth, good-will to men”
Sound the joyful news again!
Let its music fill the sky
Let its tidings newer die.

Great Grandmother Peck died last week, aged 119. She died once before when she was ninety-six, but just after she was laid out she seemed to remember something that she had forgotten to finish footing a stocking for her youngest boy, who was only seventy four years of age, so she came to again; and as winter was coming on, and so much knitting to be done, she continued to live on for twenty years or so. The doctor thinks if she ain’t disturbed, shes going for good this time. Me and Mary Ann sat up with her to the last and she was checked off in the full fruitions of her faculties. I couldn’t help moralizing, as I sat by her bedside, how lean a person can get and yet consume so much gruel; she beat anything all hollow that I ever saw. Poor old soul, she was so lean the mosquito ceased to be a burden. They used to light on her, and hammer on her skull with their bills till the room sounded like a telegraph office; then they would scratch their heads with their hind legs, and sail out of the window, worn out. She seemed to gain a little flesh after we came here from Chicago, and got new spirits, but somebody told her that her name was left out of Edward’s Dictionary, and she fell off again. She hadn’t walked any to speak of for the last twenty-two years, and it used to console her to think how much she had saved on shoes. When I look at the old calico cushion with its faded roses that she sat embowered in since she was 104, I have a sigh at the transitions(?) of all sub---(?) comfort. Her eyes got so weak that she wore seven pairs of glasses for a spell, but weren’t strong enough for her to get the sense out of her scriptures, so we had a pair of opera glasses mounted so she could wear them on her nose. She sat up the heftiest part of the day before she snuffed out, and told me many things confidentially. She remembered very distinctly when General Washington got the check cashed that Bakes Inc. gave him for signing the Pacific Railroad Bill, and she was quite a big girl when Cyrus Field and Hendrick Hudson brung theAtlantic Cable over in the Mayflower. What is a home without a great-grandmother? She is gone.
Let her R.I.P. – St. Louis Republican 1873.