Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1849-01-06
ABIRTHDAY STORY,
ROSY DEAR,
OLD ZEKE'S DAUGHTER.
BY MRS. e. M. SEYMOUR.

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One of the loveliest of the thousant
lovely spots that adorn the valley of the
Connecticut was the haunt of my child.
hood. 1t might have been haunt of fair
les and wood-nymphs; for they could moi
have found sweeter or more secluded
gamboling ground; and I did sometimes
think heard strange whisperings in the
air, and fairy like music floating around
me; and l sometimes imagined I saw tiny
footprints upon the velvet moss True, the
sober thought of years rather discards the
idea, but we love to foster childhood's i'm
pressions SO Twill cherish this, with every
flower and leaf and ripple of the singing
brook, and light and shadow which are
daguerreotyped upon my heart. would
love to take you there tonight, dear reader,
and by the light of this first autumn moon,
talk of the days of sslang syne." Come, sit
with me upon this messy bank, and see the
soft moonlight flirting with those dane ng
ripples.
Perhaps some of you, who have never
seen Miss Cynthia out of the city, have
always thought her staid and sober dam
sci; but l assure you that in the country
she frolicks about in most unmatronly-
like manner. See her, now dancing down
that brook, and now playing bo peep with
us through those thick branches, and whisp-
ering soft words to every green leaf that
turns its face towards her, and casting low
ing glances on these sweet flowers at our
feet.
And now follow with me this little
brook; we will pluck some of those vio-
lets that fringe fit edge for momento !:
now step across the brooks and there, in
that little wood beyond, is my Eden,--but
| cannot take you there, dear reader. There
l always 60 alone. A word-the slightest
whisper-there, would break the perfect
harmony that breathes around. I would
hear no voice but natures there. The gen.
tie signing amoug the leaves, the occasional
chirp OF an insect, or twitter of bird, or a
falling leef, speak in more eloquent tones
than ever breathed through earthly lips
And then the sometimes perfect mysterious
silence which not even trembling leaf dis
turbs-it lulls my~spirit, subdues every
worldly passion, and with folded hands sit
listening to the still small voice communing
with my soul. .s. ..r
Do you see, through the opening be-
yond the wood, that little white cottage?
That was the home of my little heroine.
Old Mr.. Melwood, or old Zeke, as he
was always called, was one to whose pow
erty misfortune had been added. He was
cripple, and unable to do little else than
ride to the village and leave at the doors of
his customers the products of his little farm,
which was his only means of support
These were few, but he always found
ready market for them; for every one said
that old Zeke's vegetables were the best,
and his eggs the freshest that were brought
to town, and that the berries that pretty
Rose Melwood sold, were the sweetest that
were ever tasted! indeed, every thing
which Rose Melwood had, or said, or did,
was the best in the world. .9arasl
Rose lost her mother in very early child
hood? and between herself and her father
there existed the greatest fondness. She
did not love to hear him called"Old Zeke,"
for it seemed to her to give an impression
of unworthiness; but it was not so, for
every one respected the old man. | do
not know how he came to receive that cog
nomen, but / think it was because his in
frmities made him seem much older than
he really was, and it was something of
feeling of pity that prompted it. But Rose
did not love to hear it; and always, when
speaking of her parent, she would call him
her "dear, dear father" always was she
saying some kind word, or performing some
kind action,-any thing to make her dear
father happy. And she was his idol;
"Rosy, DEAR" he always called her, and
every one else came to call her, except
when some naughty child at school, who
had his falsehood exposed by her undevia-
ting truth, would call her "Old Zeke's
daughter" But Rose was the name that
all loved to call her by. She was the pet
of the village every one was glad when
she came, for she always brought happy
face and heart along with her; aunt Mary
used TO say she brought whole shower Of
happiness, to sprinkle over every body.
But Rose Melwood had her day of sor-
row and that was when Julia Weston re-
fused to invite her to her birthday party.
This party had been the grand subject of
talk, among all the school girls, during
"recess" and ''whispering-time," for half
year. All expected to attend all knew
what they would wear; and all hoped
most earnestly that it would be pleasant
day.. b',ot.s ..,l
Rose Melwood knew in her little heart
what she intended to do that way; but she
had told no one, for it would be such
sweet surprise, she thought, to bring
wreath of flowers in April. Every day,
after the snow was off the ground, she would
look by the brook and in the wood for the
first flowers, to see how they came on.--
She knew just where the trailing Arbutus
hid itself, and where the first violets would
spring up, and she felt quite sure they
would be in bloom before Julia's birthday.
The morning preyious-to Julia Weston's
birthday, had invited Rose and two or
three Of her companions TO walk with me
and Just as we entered a path which led
through the wood, Rosy darted away, ex-
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