The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1853-02-12

recess, when the pale lilies bowed their
hot heads on the edge of the old pond,
there wasarude seat under thIck-leaved
maple, grown over with moss, where we
leaned against the carved trunk and
over Murray, Or cried for spite
at Daboll.
Many time had dear Flora IN her
school days sat beside me there, "a wee
thing" soothing my peevish spirit with
her soft voice, and helping me 10 mas
ter the hard lesson before me;-but now
the slend'r girl was blushing into wo-
manhood, AND would, ere long, be a
bride, while school girl still, daily
plodded the old familiar way, and bore
in my glad return, the tender messages
OF her absent lover.
And you should have seen her then,
dear reader: seen the brilliant flash of
her large black eyes, and the happy
ilush that crept up from the round,
smooth cheek to The broad, full fore
head, seemingly snow-white in contrast
with the shining mass Of midnight curls,
in which it lay embedded You should
have seen her, as the neatly folded bill
let vas laid in the little qulvcring palm
otpink and white, whilst a smile, like
gush of rich sunshine bursting through
parting clouds, broke over her sweet
face, and you'd have thought it were a
blessed thing to love.
Times wheels revolved slowly to the
waiting maiden. The still October
days had come, with the rich brown nuts
trembling from their cases, and drop.
ping upon the messy mat beneath, that
lay all spotted over with the red life
drops of consumptive nature.
The last rose Of summer bowed its
sweet head and died in the lap OF Au-
tumn, which, crowned with golden
vrstnentS, wandered through the old
woods, moaning around the leafy graves
OF the faded and gone Of Flora's buried
band.
And how we rambled, Flora and /,
among TIE goIden-hued leaves, shower
ed down IN the old deep woods, twirl-
ing and tossing in stray gust that bur-
red through the rustling forest aisles,
IN swift chase Of a herd of tiny breezes
singing away down in the quiet vale.
W ell DO remember the calm, drea-
my time when we sat upon the moss-
cushioned roots OF the old oak, that
wove trembling shadows of brown and
purple upon the fading green OF the
warm, sunshiny meadow, which swept
and swelled away from the little hollow
OF the gurgling brook, that lay like
silver thread at the foot of the narrow
path winding down the woody slope
from the cottage-gate.
1.-Two weeks more" said Flora, throw
ing back the long black ringlets from
her bright eyes, behind two little ears,
like rose-colored shells upon white sea
shore. 1.-TWO more weeks and then Ed
ward will be here p and peeped slyly
up into her round, laughing face.
But the autumn days went slowly
away and no Edward came to still the
throbbings Of her anxious heart. Days
and weeks rolled on, yet nought was
heard from the loved wanderer.
And now another bowed at the shrine
OF the beautiful, detected g'rl-Frederic
Grayson, the dark and handsome post.
office dlgnitary of the village; and his
deep eyes flashed with malignant fire,
as the mourniul maiden gently declined
the bridal wreath.
We saw her fading slowly, day by
day; the same sweet smile was on her
lip, but the red was gone from its curve,
and the brilliant light stole no more
from beneath the dark, thick fringe of
the dropping eye-ld.
With laggard pace daily approach
ed the cottage home, for | shrank from
meeting the desp.iling look of the un-
murmuring maiden as | shook my head
sadly to her enqulring gaze.
But one chilly evening in the winter,
when the white snow flakes had spread
a gauzy mantle along nv way, the hand
of Frederic Grayson land folded sheet
in my open palm, with peculiar flash
of his deep eye, and the simple words
sat last"
Joy gave wings to my feet, and the
light snow lay crushed and blackened
beneath them, as flew on and on to the
watching fair one. The same glad
sparkle as of yore, came from those
large eyes, and the rose-tint foated and
swan again in the round dimples of her
velvet cheak, as she casped the welcome
msslve and broke the seal.
An reclamation of distress broke from
Mrs. Fay, and | turned from my child.
ish demon STATIONS otexuberant gladness
to Flora. A death-li,le pallor over
spread her face; The open letter lay up
On the carpet, with not a single trace
amid IS snowy folds, A long black
curl Of her beautiful hair. given to Ed
ward at parting, was suspended from her