The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1851-05-03
For The Cecil Wig.
THE FORGOTTEN FLOWER.
BY THE AUTHOR OF 1.-THE LITTLE KID

49,
SLIPPER, SC, &C."
love flowers. From my youth up
have had passion for them. | recol-
lect how when child, delighted to
ramble away into the woods ON bright
Spring days, when
"Winds were soft and low,''
and gather anemones, violets, and for
get-me-nots till | was exhausted, and
then throw myselfidly on messy bank,
"And with child-liic, credulous Affections
arrange my prizes.
But those days have flown by, and
many years have passed since then.
They, however, made an impression on
my mind which time can not ef1ace.
The affairs of life occupy many of my
thoughts, but can not Danish the re-
membrance of those pleasant times
And every year when May comes |
think the birds sing sweeter, and the
flowers bloom prettier than ever, and |
take long stroll amongst the hills.
To-day pat small volume of poems
into my pocket and started for stroll.
After gathering flowers till was weary,
sat down by bubbling spring at the
root of an old beech, and commenced
reading. After reading some time, |
turned over leaf where forget-me-not
had been pressed long years before. The
moment saw it, ii whirlwind of MEM
cries swept over my soul, and | remem-
bered wildly the evening it was pluck
ed and placed there by the fair fingers Of
Annette Lee.
Annette was sweet girl. She was
not what the world would call pretty.
For some how or other have generally
admired those girls the most, whose
quiet, unobtrusve beauty did not attract
the attention of the world. But con-
sidered her pretty, and little did care
what the world thought of her charms.
She was small and graceiul-had a
wealth of black curls, and her eyes were
dark hazel color. Her features were
not regular. But were full of express
sion. And when she laughed one of her
wild careless laughs, her whole counte-
nance frightened up, and you could not
for the life of you help loving her.
When or how | came to love her
never could imagine. But now when |
look back throug the long lapse of years,
wonder how could ever be with her,
and not love her. know did not "fall
in love" with her, as the phrase goes,
sat first sight" Her parents had mo-
we'd into the neighborhood where liv-
ed, and when first met Annette at an
evening party liked her, do not say
| I,r,l h,,, {, I @oI,
grossing--absorbs our very being. And
there were dozen other girls liked
quite as well, if not better than Annette.
But from the moment | saw her | resell
we'd to court her acquaintance and friend
ship. And did so. She was artless
and unalected--free from all formality
and stiffness, and we soon became init
mate. About her quiet cottage home,
peeping out from amongst foliage and
shrubbery, every thing was sweet and
clean, and such an air of neatness perva-
ded her little parlor; that every time |
entered felt 10th to leave it.
Annette was an intelligent girl; fond
OF reading and talking, and nearly every
fine evening found me in her company.
much attached to her And fancied--
it may have been only fancy, that An
nrtte had Partially for me. For
whenever called on her she was ready
to read; or to listen to, some of my ia
vorite books. Or to put on her bonnet
and take a rambe. She had liking,
too, for the same authors [admired, and
was familiar with all my favorite haunts.
And oh, how slvery her bird-like voice
fioated through the wales, as she sang
some wild carol which delighted to
hear
But time passed on, and the day came
when | was to leave home and Annette.
1t was evening. and we were lettering
along one of the rills we had loitered
along many time before. | had never
told Annette | loved her. Twas young;
and it is only when we grow older we
use such endearing, and too often false,
expressions. had never even breath
ed of love to her. But she we'll knew
from my delicate acts of tenderness,
which every girl understands, that she
amongst all the girls with whom | was
intimate held the preference.
Sand tomorrow you will leave us"
she exclaimed, breaking the silence
which had continued some minutes.
"And them" she added, as she shook
back ner curls, and looked at me archly,
81 will be forgotten"
"No, never Annette. l can never
forget Annette"
She stopped down, and plucking two
forget-me-nots from a cluster which
grew by the brook-side, she placed one
of them in the volume Of poems had in
my hand, and said, 81 will put the 9TH