The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1878-01-04

iiCl dICuotOhltu DilCC III [Auiib lIulliCC :
pew, who should she sec sitting oppo-
site but the original of the picture in
her locket, the hero of her hemp-seed
charm!
"Oh, Aunt Eunice, look, there he is y
gasped Rosie, her heart in her mouth.
$50 see, my DEAR" said the old lady
quietly; and after the services, when
the stranger came up and introduced
himself as Mr.. Ambrose, she gave him
cordial invitation to accompany them
home to dinner.
Home with them he went, and Rosie
was like one in dream.
"Was ever q man so handsome, so
distinguished, so noble looking,?" she
burst forth when he was gone. "Oh,
Aunt Eunicc, if poor papa had left me
free!"
"Wait, my dear. When Ben gets
home he'll see some way out of the trou-
BILE. Ben always was a clever boy"
And Rosie waited, and learned in the
meantime that sweetest of all lite's les
sons, the lesson of first love.
1t was Christmas Eve. The old sit
ting-room was hung with holly and mis-
tletoe, the wide fireplace piled with huge
yule logs, and out in the great roomy
kitchen Aunt Eu,ice was elbow deep in
cakes and mince pies and plum pud-
dings, making ready to give her son q
substantial welcome.
"Poor Ben, he'll like my good things,
I'm sure" she said as she trimmed the
crust of pie. "He always was fond
of something nice to eat; and he's been
living on birds nests and puppies and
fried mice in that heather country for
so many years, he'll enjoy Christmas at
home / know. Here, Rosie, child, run
to the shed and fetch your apron full of
chips; this oven must be leetlc bit
hotter. Hurry, dov'
Rosie hurried out, but good half
hour went by before she returned. AT
the garden gate she met her hero-her
stranger lover, and Aunt Eunice and
Ter oven were alike forgotten.
"Come here, Rosie" he called, 81
want to speak to you"
Rosie went to his side with burning
cheeks and downcast eyes.
"I've come to say goodbye, Rosie"
he said, looking down upon her with
tender, dark eyes: 'I am going away
for little while. You'll not forget me
while Pm gone, Roster
Rosie made no answer.
"And you'll wear this for my sake
Let me put it on your finger, Rosie?"
But Rosie put aside the sparkling dia-
mold.
"No, Mr.. Ambrose, you can't put it
on my finger"
"Why not, Rosie? mean it for an
engagement ring. love you, Rosie,
and you belong to me, you know, by
virtue of the hempseed charm. Rosie,
you care for me just a little, don't your'
81 care for you great deal, Mr.. Am
brose; but | cannot wear your ring.
You see that clumsy old thing fon my
finger? Well, that and my promise to
my dying father bind me to another.
Please go away!"
She broke down utterly, and began to
sob like child.
"But if You love me, Rosie" began
her lover.
"Whether do or not, it is all the
same. tell you I'm plightcd to anoth-
er, and I'll break my heart sooner than
I'll break my promise"
"Then goodbye, little Rosev'
He kissed her hand and turned down
the gardcn-path. Rosie fed back to the
kitchen, sobbing fit to break her heart
"My dear, did you fetch the chips p
asked Aunt Eunicc.
"Oh, auntie, don't; my hearts bro
ken. l wish | were dead!" cried Rosie
burying her face in the cushions of The
corner armchair, and bursting into {
very storm of weeping.
Aunt Eunicc smiled with infinite con
tent as she crimped her pie.
"Don't cry, Rosie. Wait till Ber
gets here, and see what he says"
But he's gone-Mr. Ambrose,
mean. He's gone, and shall never Sc,
him again. Oh, dear, if were dead =
And all night long, while the Christ
mas stars rose and went down, sh,
tossed upon her bed, that cry upon hcl
lips-'T wish were deadr'
At last the Christmas mornin!
dawned, and from steeple to stccpl,
rang that sweet old song, "Peace OF
earth, and good will toward men,"
Aunt Eunice stole softly into the dark
ened chamber.
'Rosie, it is Christmas morning, ant
Ben has come. You'll get up and Sc
him, my dear?"
She obeyed without a word, her youn,
face white and sorrow-worn.
Aunt Eunice robed her in her prett
crimson dress, with dainty laces at th
throat and sleeves; then she brushe,
back the ripping, yellow curls, an,
fastened them with spray of holly-bei
ries.
"Come now, Roise, you must go an,
speak to Ben."
/, Aunt Eunice led her down the stairs
and to the door of tine old sitting-room
$50 in and bid him welcome, dear,
she said, unclosing the door, and pusl
. ing her gently within.
One startled glance, one little gaspin
. cry, and Rosie was in Ben's arms.
"Can you forgive me, Rosie?" he sale
kissing her pouting lips. 81 was oblige
to deceive you, little one, or you neve
would have cared for me. You do car
for me little, Rosie; but owe it a
to the hemp-secd."
"No, you don't, Ben," she answered
: with shy, fond glance; "rm sure
should have liked you all the same if
had never strewn hemp"
"Then You'll take the ring now for
= Christmas gift, Roster"
/ She held up her dimpled finger. A
he put it on, the bells clapped out agai
in honor of the Christmas morn.
/ "Peace OH earth and good will towar
: men," said Aunt Eunice, softly, as 81
threw open the shutters to let the SUI
c shine in. "Ah! my children, let us |
grateful for this blessed Christmas"
e And Rosie, resting her bright head c
: Ben's arm, burst into food of hapI
tears.
a gentleman in looking over a hou
l. that was being built for him, found
o lot of nails and screws on the floor, an
said to a workman: ''Pick these up