Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1859-12-30
Genfrdl iHlsrcIlanu.
From the New Yors Ledger.
THE MOURNING NIOLETS.

CHAPTER /.
There they grew, beneath the parlor win
dow of a little, red farmhouse among the
hills of New Hampshire-in a great bed Of
purple bloom and fragrance, scenting the air
around as they mingled their sweet breath
with the perfume of the brar-rose above their
heads Mourning violets, lifting their meek
faces into the warm sunlight, yet keeping al
ways a pensivo look about them that suited
we'll their name. doubt if any garden could
have boosted finer specimens than these-or
if flowers had over a ploasanter place to grow
in, than that bright bank beneath the tamarac
trees ! should not have objected to growing
there myself.
Two young girls, who came and stood in the
parlor door, seemed to be Of my opinion, by
the way in which they first looked at the
flowers, and then came out and bent down
over them. The elder Of the two, was fine,
spirited-luokng creature Of twenty. with the
blackost hair, and the largest dark-giay eyes
imaginable Her forehead was white and
bruad-but tho rest Of her face was slightly
sunburnt, as if she had been out much in the
open air--hcr small hands we've ~lao in tho
same plight, and further decorated with one
or two long scratches, received in game OF
romps with her pet kitten She wore PLAIN
gray skirt, with lose jacket of the same
material. linen collar and knot of blue RIB
bon at her throat-in one gloveless hand she
held a coarse, straw hat--in the other an ap-
ple, which am ashamed to confess it) she
munched with evident lest as she looked at
the flowers. Her companion was about two
wears younger-fairer and prettier, with hazel
ewes aud long, dark curls. She wore the
same simple dress, but gold chain glittered
on her neck, and a cameo pin fastened hei
collar, in the place of the blue ribbon. Hel
hands were also white and free from scratches
her whole exterior suggestive of adornmen
and yet the eye turned instnctively from
her to the unromantic figure at her side. The
one face was good and pretty-the other, no
bic and full of intellect; the one form bretah
ed of hshion-the other had certain wilC
grace of its own, infinitely more Attractive
So they stood-tho one, stirring the leaves o
the violets with the point Of her parasol-th
other, leaning her back against a tamarac tree
and q wish she would not do it-but thel
she is no heroino) eating her apple, while sh
looked of at the blue hills behind the nous
land while she finishes it, may as vel
say that her name is Leonora Grant-or, a
her friends call her, Leo. Grant-that sh
ia an orphan with a small fortune OF her own
which enables her to spend her winters 4
town aud her summers in the country, as sh
ploases that she is now visiting the on
is branch of her family extant--the father an
mother of the pretty Laura who stands by he
side, and wonders patiently what her cousl
is thinking Of
Laura was the first to break the silence
Where shall we go to-day, Leo
Il don't know, am sure The speak'
looked at the baked white road-at the blu
sky and the distant woods II was an II
tensely hot day--so hot and still that never
blade of grass in the meadows stirred with
breath of wind-but Leonora was like youn
saamander, and basked in the glare that mao
, Miss Laura shrink under the shelter of hi
parasol. :,
will you go after raspberries, Laura
I oh, Leo, we shall roastV
Not we. suppose you have finished