Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1872-05-09
THE SPRlGS OF MYRTLE.

LIE 81 hlUO OE M L w LIS
The banns were published three times
from the pulpit, the clergyman was be-
spoke, and the bridal-dress made. The
bridal trousseau was ready; it consisted
of nothing costly or splendid, but every
thread of it had passed the mothers fin
gers, first through the spinning-whee,
and then through the loom. Many hours
had been spun up, and many thoughts
been woven into the modest marriage por-
ton.
The marriage day came, and the morn
ing sun blazed on the windows of the
widows house. Everybody was up and
doing. The old lady was already busy in
the kitchen, the young girl sat at the win
dow gazing anxlously but happily down
the road whence her bridegroom was to
come. The three little sisters lay wide
awake in their little cots; they had hard
ly closed theirey the whole night, think
ing of the splendor which the day was to
bring.
In the forenoon young girl came down
to the bride from the manor. 1t was the
gardeners daughter, her dearest, friend
She had darling little basket on her
arm, which she half-opened with a roguish
smile, which made the young girl cast
down her eyes and blush. The tiny bas-
kct was filled with sprigs of myrtle, (of
which the bridal wreath is made in Den
mark. At noon the three little ones
were seen standing on the little hillock at
the end of the garden. They were dress
ed in their Sunday clothes, and kept watch
to let their sister know when the mail
coach should come in sight on the hill, or
report the first blast of the conductors
horn. But they got tired Of waiting, and
one after the other would run back to the
house to ask if he would not soon come.
Yes" said their mother, "you won't
have to wait long now.' Still, they had
TO wait so long that they at last began to
cry.
In the course of the afternoon o storm
rose, the sky darkened, and the rain beat
against the panes. The little ones had to
stay in the house. "But why doesn't he
Gomez" they inquired eagerly of their
sister.
81 hope that nothing has happened to
him." the young girl said family, and
turned her face against the wet pane in
order that they should not perceive that
her eyes were wet also.
At dusk letter came to the widow
When she had read it she was crying too
1t was o sorrowful time, and dark night
closed the day which should have been the
marriage day, but was not. The mother,
the young girl, and the three little sisters
wept all of them together; but seventy
years have passed away since that sad
evening, and in these years we have lived
through so many gloomy hours and sor-
rowtul days that we cannot afford tears
for all of them. Therefore we do not
weep with those whose tears flowed so
long ago.
Tears dry soon. The next day the
young girl wept no more. She was seized
with fever. Wandering in her mind,
she dreamed that she was a bride, and all
her youthful friends brought her wreaths
she was so unspeakably happy. And the
dream came to pass. Her illness increased,
and eight days after she was dead. All
her youthful friends brought her wreaths
--garlands of box and winter-green.
Nor did the mother weep the next day.
She tenderly consoled the little girls, but
gave vent to her wrath at the worlds
wickedness, and the mems falseness, while
talking about her great calamity to her
neighbours wife. The sprigs of myrtle
she threw angrily out of the window.
The little sisters recovered soon from
their disappointment. Each of them had
received large piece Of the bride-cake,
which they were contentedly eating, sit
ting on the grass in the sunshine.
ooh! look at the pretty green things
there" they cried, pointing at the discarded
myrtle sprigs; "let us make q wreath of
Them" said one.
"No, let us plant them in the sand, and
play at garden with them, said another.
81 say let plant them regularly, plant
them in fower-pots," proposed third !;
and her proposition was agreed to.
The children procured bottle with the
neck broken of, an earthenware pitcher
without handle, and cracked flower
pot which they mended with Irvine; and
in these three vessels each of the little
girls planted their sprigs.
"Now, if we only have patience, they
will grow up to be big trees, and bear
beautiful flowers" said the little ones.
"Don't be too sure of that" said the
neighbours wife.
"Why shouldn't they bear fowers!"
asked the children.
Because there is no luck in these
twigs. If you want that kind of plant to
take root, you must plant it in a golden
pot, and not in such poor potsherds as
these"
The sprigs of myrtle were, however
more willing than the dame had thought
they took root and grew, all three of them.
Ten years, twelve years, more than
twelve years PASSED away. The little
cottage at the road was torn down, and a
beautiful villa was built in its stead. 1t
had a slate roof, veranda, espalier, col
ored panes in the doors, and green win
dow-blinds; but the owner and his family
let it stand empty in the winter, and dur
ing the summer they frequently travelled
abroad.
But what had become of the widow
and her children3 The old lady had fol-
lowed her daughter "yonder by the church
wall, beneath the lilac bush," answered
the neighbours wife, when folks asked
where they now lived. The three little
girls had grown up; when inquired for,
she could only tell that they had all
three left and gone out into the great wide
world.' Each had taken her myrtle with
her.
The Oldest of the girls was the hand
soonest for that reason an old rich uncle
had taken a fancy to her, and adopted
her. He was in good social position,
md kent house IN GRAND soa1p fully rs