Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1863-10-26
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From the Southern Illustrated News.
THE BLUE FLOW ERS.

From the Southern Illustrated News.
THE BLUE FLOW ERS.
"Thercs blue flower in my garden,
The bee loves mere than all
The bee and we lsve il both,
Though it is trail and small" 1
'Ot jolly, jollyE
That was Aggie French's way of ex-
pressing satisfaction, ard her companion
looked up, expectant Of news.
Ny letter is from Georgia Ash. she
explained. You must have heard of
her, the hnndsomest blonde you ever
saw eyes half blue, half amber and
hair neither brown, nor yellow, nor red,
but just exactly gold. TIE fun is, Ihorne
used to be in love with her before he
knew little Alice Devon, and they said
she jilted hint was before he came to
lis fortuue-for a richer suitor. Any
way, she isn't married, and it will be Gu
riOus to see how Thorne will take her
presence here in this house, where there
are so few of us that " can't help being
intimate. Of course he can't run away
and leave Alice, and We shall see what
we shall see when my Lady!MagniicencO
comes. For my part, never did believe
first love disease quite so easy TO get
Thorne had IT hard Hike stories in re-
al life a great deal better than out of
books; they're twice as spicy. prom
ise myself rare fun in watching the ro-
nance
Just then Alice came in, so radiantly
happy. Her brown hair tossed about
her primrose cheeks, her soft, innocent
brown eyes sparkled with pleasure, and
few rare wild flowers in her hand
, Thorne was behind her, looking on as
she exhibited her treasures with smile
and an eye-glAnce which revealed more
than he was aware Of love and pride.
See,' cried the soft, clear Jones,
you've been hunting in vain for these
little beauties all summer, and we've
found them. Do you smell the sea
breath in them? We go5 amogG the
wards the waves, and at h gh tide the
water comes up among the oots. How
blue they are, just like bit Of the sum-
mer sky! Pun going for them often, and
E since they are m,ne by right OF discoVe-
ry, | call them treasHreSrove, Tor don
like those polysyllable botany names
She and Thorne were happy enough,
both of them, to have moved any tender
heart to let them dream on. But Aggie
French's neart was not tender-,not that
she was so very cruel, but thoughtless, fond
Of fun, and little careless what wounds
her self-indugence might inflct She
looked wickedly into Thornes eyes and
said:
Il had letter from an old friend o.
yours this morning--Miss Georgiana
Ash. She is coming here to day or to-
morrow. She does not know she vii
meet you. What pleasant surprise 1
will bep
'Ah! haven't seen her for five years
She used to be stylish, handsome girl
wonder if she's fadedf
When they came together again Iron
their afternoon walk, Thorae and Alice
some trunks were in the hall, with q
A. painted in black letters upon thel
covers.
The new guest, I suspect Alice sal
lightly. Thorne was too self.consciou
to reply. He bit his lips and was silent
When Aggie French heard him goin
by her door, after he had left Alice, sh
put her head out with malicious whls
per:
She's come e-been with me coup
Of hours. Now she's in her room dress
ing for tea
1t was just at sunset when all the pa
ty before mentioned and a halt doze
more were gathered in the low, old-faSl
ioned parlor, ready to go in to supper.
Mary Everett, who had never before m
Miss Ash, looked at her critically as 81
stood beside little Alice Devon the tv
l.avins just been introduced to each OF
CT by Thorne, who, whatever he mig
have betrayed, when taken by surpris
was perfectly self possessed COW.
There was no disputng that the nev
conner was the handsomest woman
The Shoals 1t WAS a grand, res
style, which swayed power of its on
The tall, full figure the matchless col
plexion, with its colOring clear and BRIG
as dawn; the great magnetic eyes;
tawny gold hair, filling the silken !
flll; the mouth so ripe and tempting
nil these, with the self understandi
the aplom6 OF twenty-five years In t
stately presence little Alice Devon, W
her seventeen years and her primr
face, looked Uniformed and childish.
there was some' hing aboat her m
sweet and tender and touching, VIII
made Mary Everett think of a rose-t
with the morning dew still on it;
glancing back to the other, she humm
half under her breath, Q snatch of
old nursery song: