Randolph County journal. [volume] (Winchester, Randolph County, Ind.) 1855-1862, 1858-11-04

mostly grown up with wccds, where
the roses still bloomed under the mul-
berry. and the lilacs tangled their tops
among the cherry blossoms. Soon a
vigorous rose-root was selected and
planted by the old door-stonc, where,
with care and watching and watering.
though rather late in tbs season for
tfsnsplanting in Ohio. it soon took
root, and grew well. Upward through
days and weeks, it grew. The door
stone protected its roots from frost
and shielded it from the fierce winds,
while at noon the sun Warmed It's roots
into vigorous life. / watched, wat
tered, / trained it. 1t shot up one
long, graceful wand, and ere the warm
DAYS, were ended il reached the second
story window. What a marval it was,
Who had eyer seen a damask rose
grow like that!
The autumn came. The naples put
on their crimson and gold, and arrayed
themselves regally for the tomb. The
robins. the cat birds, the thrushes,
with their predatory friend, the wood
pecker, had raised their families, sung
their song of farewell, and gone south
to spend the winter. The spice-apple
had done good service at home. while
its neighbors, the pippins and pear
mains. greetings and russets, had gone
with the farmer boys, floating down
the river on the Ohio" in hatboats, to
seek their fortunes in the sunny South.
The old cider-mill creaked the death
groans of the common folks of the
orchard. Everything was fading, dy-
ing. going to sleep for winter recruit,
that they might come forth in the
spring time with renewed beauty
and strength, my rose bush among the
rest.
The winter months flew BY on sill.
very feet, for what with the country
meetings and singing schools, and sew
ing bees and cuttings, and now and
then a merry dance, and the country
school, and the homework, there was
no time for cnnui, and we never dream
ell of discomfort. Spring came. and
amid the out-springing Of fresh life my
rose-tree put forth its many shoots
Carefully pruning away all but two or
three of the most vigorous, and caring
for it well. it grew g'andly; and in
May the long, waving wand of last
year put forth its bloom two weeks be-
fore any other in the garden. 1t was
full of splendid fowers-onc long
wreath of beauty. SO grand was it,
that even my father, who was so strong
ly utiliiarian that he could barely toll
crate flowers, paused as he passed, and
as his keen eye ian admiringly from
root to apex, exclaimed ut beats all
how handsome it isl" How proud
| wasi There was a flower for every
favorite in my little circle. In my
mind named them all, and as each
one withered and fell, l felt sadly,
and thought of the time when some OF
MS should leave vacant places in the
choir, in the evening play, or the class
room. When the last one sent its
delicious fragrance into my window
in the carly days Of June, / watched
it with mothers care, noted every
change, and mourned its dying How
often had l sung More's beautiful po-
EN-, "The Last Rose of Summerl'
Now his words seemed harsh, and the
spirit of the song at vsriencc with the
highest humanity. To suit myself
better, | penned the following:
'Tis the last rose of SINNER that hangs on
my tree,
The last of the loved ones that blossoms for
Oh. I'll rob it not vet of its beauty and
bloom,
For too soon it will withcr and sink to its
tomb.
will not touch il rudely-I love il too well
Let it wave to and fro to the zephyr's soft
swell;
For the memory Of pleasures that could not
! we'll last
Is enshrined in each petal to tell Of the past
| will wreathe round it kindly the leaves ol
tie stem,
That the winds may not wither too ronghl,
my gem:
Its petals i'll watch till they wither and
drop,
And when they are fallen, I'll gather them up
Nav the fate of the rose be an emblem Of
mine;
Should the flowers Of affection that round
me now twine.
The bright buds of Friendship, be pluckec
one by one,
Till the last Of the Low ed ones is faded ant
gone,
|
Oh. then may the world view with pity m,
fate,
And not deepen the sorrow il may not abate
But with kindness and gcnticness lessen m,
woes,
Till calmly and quietly fall like my rose
| The next year my rose reached tn,
caves over the second-story window
The young branches had gained th'
altitude Of the parent stem, and
stretching across the. door, wrcatheC
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