The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1873-02-06

so serious a work
''To read it, sir, doubtless" replied
the bookseller; q Madamoiselle Amelia
does not resemble the generality of
young ladies she prefers useful to
amusing books" He then mentioned
the names of several that he had lately
sent her, and gave me high opinion of
her taste.
"'From her impatience for your
book, added he, I can answer for it,
that it Will be pursued with great
pleasure more than ten messages have
been sent; at last I promised it to-
morrow, and beg of you to allow me
to keep my word
g thrilled with Joy as Igave him the
volumes, at the idea that Amelia would
read my sentiments, and that she would
learn to know me.
October arrived. and with it my fifty
vases of rose-trees for which, of
course they made me pay what they
chose and was as delighted to count
them in my room as a miser would his
sacks of gold. They all looked rather
languishing, but then it was because
they had not yet reconciled themselves
to the new earth. read all that was
ever written on the culture of roses
with much more attention than had
formerly read nay old philosophers and
I ended as wise as began. I perceived
that this science, like all others, has no
fixed rules, and that each vaunts his
system, and believes it the best. One
of my gardener authors would have the
rose-trees as much as possible in the
open air; another recommended their
being kept close shut up; one ordered
constant watering another absolutely
forbade it" It is thus with the edu-
cation of man, said I, closing the vol
umes in vexation- Always in extremes;
let us try the medium between these
opposite opinions I established good
thermometer in my room, and, accord
ing to its dictations, I put them outside
the windows or took them in you may
guess that fifty vases, to which I gave
this exercise three or four times a day
mosphere, did not IeavS me much idle
time; and this was the occupation of
a professor of philosophy All, well
might they have taken his chair from and
sent him back to school, a thousand
times more childish than the youngest
of those pupils to whom I hurried over
the customary routine of philosophical
lessons. My whole mind was fixed on
Amelia and my rose-tree.
"The death of the greater number of
my eleUes, however, soon hghtened my
labor; more than half of them never
struck root. I flung them into
the fire a fourth part of those
that remained, after unfolding some
little leaves, stopped there. Several
assumed a blackish, yellow tint, and
gave me hopes of beautifying; some
fourished surprisingly, but only in
leaves others, to my great JOY, were
covered with buds; but, in few days,
they always got that little yellow
circle which the gardeners call the col
lar, and which is to them mortal mall
ady their stalks twisted; they dropped;
and finally fell, one after the other,
to the earth-not single bud remaining
on my poor trees. This withered my
hopes and the more care I took of my
invalids-the more 1 hawked them from
window to window-the worse they grew.
At last one of them, and but one, prom
ised to reward my trouble. Thickly
covered with leaves, it formed a hand
some bush, from the middle of which
sprung out fine, vigorous branch,
crowned with six beautiful buds tina
got no collar-grew, and even discov-
cred, through their calices, a slight
rose-tint There were still six long
weeks before the new year, and certain
ly four, at least, of my precious buds
would be blown by that time. Behold
me now recompensed for all my pains
Hope re-entered my heart, and every
moment 1 looked on my beauteous in
troducer with complacency.
con the 9th of NOvember-a day
which can never forget-the sun
rose in all its brilliance I thanked
heaven, and hastened to place my rose
tree. and such of its companions as yet
survived, on a peristyle in the court.
q have already mentioned that I lodged
ON the ground foor.) I wGtered them,
and went as usual, to give my philo-
sophical lecture. 1 then dined, drank
to the health of my rose-and returned
to take my station at the window, with
| a quicker throbbing of the heart.
'Amelia's mother had been silently
/ indisposed; for eight days she had notleft
the house, and consequently L had not
seen my fair one. On the first morning
1 had observed the physician going in /;
uneasy for her, contrived to cross his
way, questioned him, and was COM
forted I afterward learned that the
old lady had recovered, and was to make
her appearance abroad on this day at a
! grand gala given by baroness, who
| lived at the end of the street. 1 was
then certain to see Amelia pass by, and
eight days of privation had enhanced
that thought. I am sure Madame de
Belmont did not look to this party with
as much impatlence as did She was
always one of the first it had scarcely
struck five when I heard the bell of her
gate. took up book; there I was at
my post and presently saw Amelia
appear, dazzling with dress and beauty
as sae gave her arm to her mother !;
never vet had the brilhancy of her figure
so ST ruck me this time there was no
occasion for her to speak to catch my
eyes they we're fixed on her, but hers
were bent down however, she guessed
that I was there, for she passed slowly
to prolong my happiness. I followed
her with nay gaze, until she entered the
house; there only she turned her head
for a second the door was shut, and
she disappeared, but remained present
TO nv heart. I could neither close my
window nor cease to look at the baro-
nets hotel, as If I could see Amelia