Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1856-01-03
Alisfellanp.
The Mysterious Flower;
THE MAID OF LUSATIA.
BY MRS. II. Y. ELLKTT.


on inn, in the small hamlet of Neujohnsdorf, in
the province of Lusatia. 1t was not yet sum
sst, and the golden light bathed the richly wood
ed mountains enclosing the landscape, of which
the windows commanded view. A stream that
wandered through the valley, could be seen
flashing at intervals between the trees on its
margin, or bordering meadow of verdure close
to the foot of the mountain, it expanded into
small lakelet that lay in deep shadow, reflect
ing the sombre green of the fir and pine trees
its CLASSY surface rippled continually by the
fishing boats that shot to and fro, giving anima-
ton to scene of calm and picturesque beauty.
The stranger leaned forward thoughtfully in
his seat near the window, and looked forth;
but he seemed to have little enjoyment of the
quiet loveliness of the landscape. He had visit
ed, in fact all the countries of Europe remark
able for romantic scenery. He was traveller
for pleasure, or rather to escape from himself !;
one of those restless beings who find relief from
ennui only in continual change of place. He
had heard much of the beauty of Lusatia it
would not do to pass by in his tour; but Its
charms already palled upon his taste.
Lucas said he to his attendant, who just
then entered, shall leave here to morrow
Tomorrow and yet Monsieur lie Comte has
not seen all the wonders of the region
WI hat are they = asked the stranger, yawn-
ing.
There is a spot in the lake which they say
is bottomless-a whirlpool on the other side of
the mountain, where men, venturing to battle.
have been swallowed up; and a wizard tree,
scarce league hence, of which wild tales are
told. But the greatest curiosity of all is the
Schalkstein.'
What is that
Does Monsieur note yon conical rock rising
from the midst of the wood 1t crowns the
summit of mountain just behind that We see
close at hand. Within that mountain-so ru-
NOR says-a treasure lies buried
"A treasured
'Ay-for thousand years it has lain there.
The spot is marked by a strange flower, that
grows and perishes in night. The only night
in the year in which it blooms is the eve of st.
John
"A curious tradition, in sooth.'
1t is believed throughout the country, that
he who finds that flower, and he alone, is des-
tined to possess the treasure.
Hem is not tonight the eve of st. John.
sit is
And the moon is full. Why not search
for the flower, and dig for the treasure Lucas''
Monsieur is pleased to jest. know not
one flower from another
well, then, will 60 myself. lam anxious
to know if there be really any plant peculiar to
this season, whose grow tn could have originated
so peculiar superstition
:Monaieur has rare taste for flowers
TUE, Lucas, and in philosophy. A walk in
tbs moonlight cannot be hurtful at midsummer
.nd it will be something to thiuk of. Should
discover any rare plant-a specimen for the mu-
scum in Berlin, I shall have thanks for it at
least Order supper early.
In the most shaded part of the valley-some
miles from the hamlet, stood a small hut in
front of a garden carefully cultivated, but so
limited in extent as to show the poverty Of the
owner. About the humble dwelling were evil
dences of taste, and love of the beautiful. A
vine had been trained so as to cover part of
the rude building, and twine in graceful wreaths
lad xr,f &Ia
little piece of ground before the door was lit
orally wilderness of flowers. A large oak
tree on one side, sheltered the cottage from the
sun ut noon, and added its share of picturesque
beauty.
AS the last beams of sunlight faded from the
mountain tops, weary-looking man, coarscly
attired, returned from the forest, bearing hi
axe and armful Of wood. He entered the cot
tagc, and seated himself, wiping his forehead
and complaining bitterly of fatigue while tn
dame with care on her brow, was busted in pre-
pairing the evening meal. This consisted O
coarse brown bread and salt, a few wild fruits
and a pitcher of water from the spring. Blu
those who partook of the frugal repast, ha
long been accustomed to no better fare. Th
man drew his seat in silence to the table, an
ate, glancing now and then at the door, as
he expected some one.
Where is Roswitha = he asked, at length
peevishly. Why comes she mott
L will call her presently answered tn
dame. She was spinning but now-and, bt
like, hath not yet finished her task
When the meal was ended, the dame wer
out to seek her daughter. A few PAGES fro
the house, in a natural arbor, formed by vii
vines clustering over myrtle trees, q young gi
was seated. Her spinning wheel was befo
her, but she had ceased work her hands we
folded in her lap; her face uplilted, as if
thoughtfulness of prayer So exquisitely bea
tifal was it, and so fair in the moonlight th
poured into the arbor, it might have seemed Il
fac, Of i'm angel. Its expression was that
sadness, and tear trcmbled in the soft bl
eyes, without escaping from the fringe of the
lids.
'Roswitha = said the mother, gently.
The young girl started and passed her hal
over her brow
1T is late, my daughter, ond thy father
asked for thee.
Il will come presently, my mother.
Thou hast been weeping, Roswitha.
Nay
Thou art wont to sing all day, like bird