Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1867-02-28

of absence. sad and dreary,"
The bright moon wheeled her swift chari-
OF behind. a heap of clouds, piled high in
the heavens, and pushing back the dark,
thick ringlets that fell in shower over her
face, he kissed again and again her cold
white cheek and hrow-and was gone y
Six long, weary months must elapse. ere
he should return at home of his childhood
and to his early love, and what changes
might not time effect during the lone in
term. But duty called him to the sacri-
fee, and her mandate was ever sacred to
Edward Earl.
Weeks rolled on, and messages of love
and remembrance came from the lone wan
derer. Full oft did I peep into the little
letter box for the white signal; and if, hap
PLY, it looked me in the eyes, from behind
its transparent prison-house, with trem-
bling hand Iseized upon the precious mis-
sive, and honey-freighted thing snugly
slowed away in my ''book bag that in
dispensahle appurtenanco Of frolicsome
child, daily creeping like snail unwill-
ingly to school .
0, the memory Of those days. when we
trudged along the shaded walks of the dear
little village off to quiet ,ok. where the
old brown school-house nestled down in a
great green clump of NAPLES and tall old
elms-when the merry shout of rosy cheek
ed girls and little jacketed urchins went up
in glad gush through the interlaced
limbs, that formed a pavilion over the
grassy playground
There was the little desk beside the
wide window with its broken panes and
close shutter, bearing many stripes Of
black and blue upon it's time stained face.
It looked down upon the wild old pond,
where the merry birds chirped and sang so
of a sweet spring morning and through it
the breath of wild reses and honeysuckles
foated from the fresh, free woodlands, max
ing the walls Of our school room seem like
those Of a prison.
And when the warm summer days hal
come. when the wild songsters folded up
their bright wings in some cool recess.
when the pale lilies bowed their hot heads
on the edge Of the old pond. there was the
rude seat under thick-leaved maple,
grown over with moss, where we leaned
against the carved trunk end conned over
hurry, or cried for spite at Daboll.
Many time had dear Flora in her
school days. sat beside me there. ga wee
thing" soothing my peevish spirit with
her soft voice, and helping me to master
the hard lesson before me but now the
slender girl was blushing into womanhood,
and would, ere long be a bride, while l a
school girl still, daily plodded the old fa-
miliar way, and bore, in my glad return,
the tender message of her absent lover.
And you should have seen her then,
dear reader; seen the brilliant fash of her
large black eyes, and the happy flush that
crept up from the round, smooth cheek to
the broad, full forehead, seemingly snow
white in contrast with the shining mass of
midnight curls, in which it lay embedded.
You should have seen her, as the neatly
folded billet was laid In the little culver
ing palm Of pink and white. whilst smile,
like gush Of rich sunshine bur Ting
through parting clouds, broke over her
sweet face, and you'd have thought it were
a blessed thing to love-
Times wheels reyolved slowly to the
waiting maiden. The still October days
had come, with the rich brown nuts trem-
bling from their cases, and dropping upon
the messy mat beneath, that lay all spot
ted over with the red life-drops Of consump-
tive nature.
The last rose of summer bowed its sweet
head and died in the lap ofautumn, which,
crowned with gold and crimson vestments,
wandered through the old woods, moaning
around the leafy graves Of the faded and
gone of Flora's buried band
And how we rambled. Flora and I, a.
mong the golden-hued leaves, showered
down in the old deep woods, twirling and
tossing in stray gust that hurried through
the rustlng forest aisles. in swift chase of
herd of tiny breezes singing away, down
in that quiet vale
" ell do | remember the calm, dreamy
time when we sat upon the moss-cushion-
ed roots Of the old oak, that wove. trembl-
ing shadows of brown and purple upon the
fading green of the warm, sunshiny mead
ow, which swept and swelled away from
the little hollow Of the gurgling brook,
that lay like silver thread at the foot of
the narrow path winding down the woody
slope from the cottage gate.
Two weeks more, J" said Flora, throw
ing back the long black ringets FROM her
bright eyes, behind too little ears, like
rose-colored shells upon white sea shore
1.-Two more weeks and then Edward will
be here" and | peeped slyly up into her
round, laughing face.
But autumn days went slowly away and
no Edward came to still the throbhlinns
of her anxious heart. Days and weeks
rolled on, yet nought was heard from the
loved wanderer.
And now another bowed at the shrine
OF the beautiful, detected Frederick
,rayson, the dark and handsome 'post-oflice
d'gnitary of the village I; an1 his deep eyes
yITIf Il.