Her Eightieth Anniversary

A pleasant gathering of relatives and 'riends metat the residence of Judson Salyer in Northfield on Monday last to celébrate the eightieth birthday of his mother, Mrs. Mabel Salyer, who has )een a resident of the town for the past sixty years. It was a complete surprise o her. She still enjoys a reasonable degrec of health and strength. After a suniptous repast the friends gathered in the parlor and listened to the following selection by her daughter, Mrs. A. M. Doty, entitled "The Last Leafbut One on the Tree." Mrs. Nathan Salyer is he last survivor but one of her father's 'amily of eleven children. She was orn Aujj. 24, 18)1 and is now eighty years oíd. She carne to Michigan with her husband at an early day and ettled on the farm where she has spent íer lile, beingoneof theoldest pioneers n Washtenaw county, Where The wild-cat and tbe panthers cry, the screech and hoptof owl. teplied in dismal chorous to the wolves' inalignaut howl. Winds roared amid the forest trees when nights were dark and chill, Vhile thoughta of savage war-whoop made the stoutest heart stand still. The century in infaney unto the world had come Vhcn a Hule daughter's smilu made glad the frontier home. The woodman laid the forest low with a heavy, willing hand ; 5oon fieids of corn afnd waviug grain stood over all the land. And.wheie the wigwam's smoke went up, or rude log cabln stood, The Baw-mill and the smithy rose, or farm house warm and good, The baby was a echool-girl now, dark eyes and tresses biown ; Aud o( the blooming maidens went, in comely homespun gown. Or winters with tneir "lacedbootees," and dress of home-made plaid, 'hey come through snow with brother brave, around the school-fires glad, Vhile glowlng Sres to cniuiney's Üiroat, rushed upward with a roar, Vhile Bcholars mute, day by day, were conning lessons o'er. The mastcr with his "plummet lead, " rules o'er the writlng book, And "sets the copies" with his hand- how ruund and smooih they look, With pen-knile sharp, each pen he carves, from out the goose's quiii; w hile, eye askance, he scans the room, they study withawlU. The "Firet class" reads, the "Second too;" theu comes the "a, b, e," While those in"l)aboH"wrestles with the" Doublé Rule of Three," But in those stolen glances, sly, full many a romance lies. And somehow there are bargains made, both wise and otherwise. It happeued when they delved for lore, they somtumes found their fate, What wonder tnat our dark-eyed maid bhould somewhere fiud a mate. They lrown no more, those forest trees, long since were they laid low; No paniher's scream, uo war-whoop now, and gone the bouuding doe. No more the leathern string hangs out, bidding "Come lu"- AU's well, Now, at the sutuly mausion door, the straDger rings the bell, No more the tanded cabin Hoor; no more the wood-üre brigüt, But darksome stove, and carpet soft,;aud shaded coal-oil Ught. Ves, where the maple aud elm tree waved, so graceful iu tne breeze, Aud painted warriors, round their tires, danced 'neath the trees, Long since the "College Bell" was heard and churches reared iheii apires, And screeching, snortlug, rail-cars come, lite blazing torch of tire. And now "Old Time,' with sickle sharp, full many a blow has luid, She siu and thinks- the century, with her, ia growing old For eiïhty years, on wings of memory, shetravels back, And walks again with friends of yore adown llle'B devious track. She meets her mother's gout.e smile, her father's genial eye, Her sisters loved, &nd brothers biave, agaln are tauding by, The lire-place liilei with maple logs, once more are all aglow, Aud back u.ul lörth, as they were wont, her loved ones come nd go. Again she stands beside the husband of her choice, And he, too, beside his bride, Hsteus to the raeasured volee, That joms the genial couple there, thoughtful, yt notliiug loili, Who now iu hoiy unisón unite to plight their troth. Agaiu, Hwcet. cooing voicos come to greet the mother's ear, Again the stoops the bruise to kiss, or wipe the talling tear, Or read to them, or ttll to them some tale of love, l'oiiiung them lo ways of kindiiessaudearth-born bliss aboye. And yet how many blissful hours in memory there be, She hears her childreu's merry hout, aod notes their artless glee, And months oi hoiy ministry, by beds of wasting pain, The pallid face, the waBting breath, they all come back again. With mind still unimpaired- almost the last leaf on the tree - She counte the years- they're eighty- four score years and she, Thankful for life and favors past, aye, lovlng and tender care, She bows her head in huinble, reverent, submisslve prayer. Thankful in peace to dweil within her pleasant. quiet home; That children's ehildren round her yet with their young children come, Looks forward, too, with trustful heart, e'en to that better home, Where all God's foithful ones shall meet and never, never roam . Then on the downy pillow lays hor head wlth sllvered hair, Like the " Last leaf on the tree," trusting and waiting there ; TM God's own time shall Md her ceasc to be. And thus bc llkened to " Thelast leaf on the tree."