KIT CHEfl STOVE

HOW MY MEMORY

CLINGS^^

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THAT OLD

KITCHEN STOVE
BY

DAVID HAROLD JUDD

Fully Illustrated

By

ELIZABETH CRAIG
and

MAUD JAMES

THE

Hbbey press
PUBLISHERS
114

FIFTH AVENUE
XonDon

NEW YORK

/iRontreal

\MOl

THE LIBRARY F
GCNCRESS, Two Oo*iM Recefveb
FEB.

20

1902

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DEDICATED
IN ITS SIMPLICITY

4i

FOR

ITS

HEART TO HEART DEVOTION

TO THAT MOST SACRED CIRCLE,

HOME,
AND FOR
ITS

CHRISTMAS CHEER

TO MY BELOVED WIFE

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^at mh

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0tot)c.

THAT

old

kitchen

stove,

how my memory
back
to the

dings,

As my thoughts turn
savory
things

That emerged from

oven,
kettles
its

its

pots and

When my mother
was matron
of those relishing victuals.

That Old Kitchen Stove.

II.

With what
and
din,

a rattle

clatter

and

The

table

was
tin.

loaded with the

brightest of

The

fire

and

was given poke

it

punch

And

the quaint stone chim-

would smoke The embers on the hearth would sparkle and glow
ney,

how

As

if

for the occasion

they
;

were anxious
Enthused,
as

to

go

it

were, by

my
For
fire.

mother's desire.
she
trusted

com-

pletely

on that old stove

That Old Kitchen Stove.

III.

HOUGH
it

years have gone by

seems but a span

I

Since
"

tip-toed around,
Httle

my

mamma's

man,"

And watched
The dough
while
Till
I

her prepare,

as deftly she fingered

into shape, the

lingered

she turned her head and gave

me

chance

To rub
For

off

my

hands on

my

little

pants.

sly little
steal

fingers will unconsciously

Into batter and butter, just to see

how

they feel. Ah, the dainties she cooked were tempting and sweet;
It

would be hard
to

am

thinking for them

be beat.
cookies, tarts

Such doughnuts,
pies,

and mince
little

Were

rapturous feasts for our

eyes.

That Old Kitchen Stove.

don't

Then

you know, no one

else

ever

could

Do

everything just as m^^ mother would?

That Old Kitchen Stove.

IV.

HEN

that old

home

kit-

chen was a model

behold,
It

to

was

just as neat as

if

garnished with gold.

The

floor w^as as spotless as the sands

on
in

the beach

The

ceilings

were clean, not

speck w^as

reach

The windows
bright

w^ere crystal, so clear

and

That the beauties

at night.

of

heaven were reflected

Behind the stove was a great wood box As regularly filled as the crowing of the
cocks.

10

That Old Kitchen Stove.

V.

N the brightest corner

stood
the
;

old time clock

It

was

six-foot-six

Its

oak stock, pointers were chiseled from plates

in its solid

of

brass,

And
As

its

dear old face was hid

a glass;

under
its
it

pendulum swung
told

a tale

Of the coming and going

little

of our

fold

Its

vibrations

echoed with a
to hasten, as

resounding tick

And warned me
quick.

youth passes
to all

There the sweet smile was given

of

welcome

That Old Kitchen Stove.

ii

For the beauty

of

home

is

to

emulate heaven,

And many
and

a
sore,

traveler,

tired

Was

clothed and fed from that

old kitchen door.

\i

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^"'

'^k

12

That Old Kitchen Stove.

VI.

One

night

remember,
!

O, starht night

When

was borne and all was bright Lucinda came in, one of
love

the neighbor's

girls,

As sweet

as a rose, with

the loveliest curls.

Her eyes were akin to Her breath as sweet

jasmine dew.

that heavenly hue,

as the
^fvv.^^ >t.\

With

the form of an angel, nO'

painter's

brush
a

'^^^

Could portray nature with

purer blush.

Her

smile, never

mind her

smile,

don't

you see

For when she smiled, she smiled

at

me.

That Old Kitchen Stove.

13

VII.

O, the time we did have, the games played;

we

The

night being dark, Lucinda stayed.

the apples

Now

we pared and

skins threw

about

With songs of laughter and a merry shout; The candy we pulled and chilled on the snow

14

That Old Kitchen Stove.

Gave to our cheeks a ruddy glow. It was the innocence of childhood as gathered you see, That made us as happy as happy could be. And the brightest moment of our young
lives,

As we huddled together

like

bees in a hive

Was when we played we were in And picnicked around that old

stove.

a grove

kitchen

That Old Kitchen Stove.

VIII.

15

HERE

are the

friends of
all

my
.^v-_.

youth,

parted

and gone,

My

brothers
left

and

sisters
;

have

every one

Their different vocations have called them

forth,

And
But

the

mark they make

will tell of their

worth.

my

mother has passed from the cares

of earth,

i6

That Old Kitchen Stove.

the

To

God

she had worshiped since the

days of her birth;

And

in

my

dreams

see her vigil keep-

'''

Watch

o'er her scat-

tered children, sleeping.

That Old Kitchen Stove.

IX.

17

EAR

friends,

am no
;

longer

a youth

Let us skip a decade inevitable truth.

I

am

quietly sitting

j|

,^

,^

one cold Christ-

.'

mas

night,
^

"^3

By

that old kitchen

1^

stove,

but

with

i^'^-^'^^^

no delight. For down at the corners where the two

roads meet.

Stands an old stone Church a

little

back

from the

street,

That Old Kitchen Stove.

young, a harbor for the

'Tis a pilot to the old,

And

to-night that sweet old story will be

told

How the

Christ-child came, and the bonds

were burst
That the first might be might be first.
last,

and the
in

last

And
Is

the angel of

my

dreams
of

former
festival

days
the

angel
plays;

to-night

those

Her hand

will

unclasp from that ladened

but me.

tree

Presents for

all,

for all

"^^^

That Old Kitchen Stove.

19

>i

20

That Old Kitchen Stove.

XI.

UT hark
this
I

What

is

hear?

Ah,
out-

the
side
I
!

wind

thought

it

a footstep,
;

my

fancy betide
I

hear

it

again.

challenge

them come.

And Lucinda
dumb.
*'

is

before

me, speechless,
fold

Lucinda,"
heart,

cry as

her to

my

" Speak,

mine
?

angel,

must we ever more

part

For years

I've

wandered and couldn't

longer stay.

That Old Kitchen Stove.

21

When
I

knew

that

you too had planned

to

to

go away.

need you, Lucinda,

spot,

make sacred

this

Where grow

the ivy-twine and the sweet

forget-me-not.

The love of my childhood is stronger still As I read in your eyes the sweet 'I will.' And her answer was whispered: " Tho'
long you've roved

We

will

pledge our troth by this

old

kitchen stove."

^e'o^

^ o,\go^'

FEB 20
I

1902
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i^lV.

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20 i902

FEB.

25

1902