Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1861-04-05
\ Popular 5torp.
THE FADED ROSE,
A TALE OF MY EARLY YEARS.
BY MARY W. STANLEY GIBSON.

CHAPTER !.
A few ffa summers had touched thee
AS they touch the fruit,
Not SO bright as thy hair the sunshine
Not so sweet as thy voice the Lutte;
flushed the voice, shorn the hair; ali is over
An urn Of white ashes remains;
Nothing else, save the tears in our eyes,
And our bittcrest, bitterest pains
SToDDARD.
1t was large, old-fashioned room,
Which, of itself, constituted the east side
of the cottage where was boarding. ~
OF itself, ! say-yet there was cham
Der above, Of the same dimensions, which
also communicated with the house by
means of long narrow passage and d
fight Of stairs, and which should be
reckoned with it. So completely was it
an afterthought on the part of the build.
er, whoever he might be, that, sitting
there, you seemed to. be cut off from
every one, and shut up in kind Of Ro-
binson Crusoe-hke house, by yourself
It only needed the drawing up of the
steps after you, by which you entered
the parlor, from the flower garden out
side, to render the simite perfect.
1t was Just the place for a dreamer
like myself. The house itself stood far
back from the road, and the yard was full
of pines and poplars, that shook their
leaves and branches with kind Of mourn
full music whenever a breeze passed by
At the right of Ibis yard, little brook
ran murmuring along to the pasture lands
behind the house at the left great Or
chard, full Of twisted and large-limbed
apple-trces, hid the neighboring cottages
from sight. Between this orchard and
the white walls OF tho house was q
small space of ground. which had been
laid out as garden. Syringas
and lilacs grew beside the lower windows
"a Michigan rose was making ambitious
attempts to hang its crimson clusters
over those Of the chamber, and the
ground was covered with thick beds Of
violcts, moss pinks, mignionette, monks
hood, and ladies-slipper. They could
scarcely DO called cultivated, for little
time aud pains were bestowed upon them,
and they ran wild over all the BEDS
Yet | could think of nothing much pleas
anter than to sit upon the steps at the
window, Of a pleasant June day, when
the sun was shining warm from bright
blue sky, and look out upon that old gar
den, full of light and fragrance, aud the
songs Of birds, and the busy humming
of countless brown bees
To look back from that scat, into the
square parlor, was to look into The very
home Of cool and quiet shade. Tue
painted curtains at the windows threw o
quiet light across the room, while from
the garden broad ray Of sunshine en-
tered, and lay in blocks and patches upon
the floor. The furniture was in keeping
with the place. Great chairs Of maho.
gany, with griffin carved upon their
circular backs, which might have come
over in the Mayhower, stood pondcrously
against the wall, as If they defed the
strength Of man to lift them from their
places Old pictures hung upon the wall
IA faded carpet, which, in the days Of
its splendor, had delighted other eyes
than mine, and been trodden BY feet long
since laid to rest in an English church
yard, covered the floor and the tarnish.
ed screen and round, claw-footed table.
had the same claim to my respect. Thc
only modern things in the room were
piano, with its music stool aud books
and myself
! sat before that piano, one summer
morning. leaning myarm upon the keys,
and looking out into the flower garden.
| was not thinking Of that, however,
was listening to some one in the room
above, who was playing ar air IN minor
key "a melancholy, wmling thing --and
yet | loved It. II was master hand
that touched the instrument, and IL gave
forth is sweetest melody, as if in thanks.
all was silent.
l turned 70 my own lesson. II was q
song familiar to every car, and loved by
al. As i played Il iheard the sound OF
steps 10 the chamber. Its occupant was
pacing up aud down, and half uncon
sciously, as il seemed, began to sing in
fine lcnor ycice, the tune | played r.