The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1879-10-31
THE BROKEN PkIMROSES.

THE BROKEN PKIMROSES.
Among all the flowers that make the
country beautiful, I think none have
such a tender place in my memory
as the primrose. Who ever passed the
months of spring in the country, IN
childhood, that cannot recall how joy
ously the first appearance OF the favorlte
primrose was hailed, and its opening
watched as its delicate buds peeped from
amongst the thick green leaves under
the shade of brier-bush, or around the
roots of branching ash tree, or
on the tiny shelves of the hoary rock?
To see even bunch of artificial prim-
roses on pretty young lady's bonnet
seems to me to give touch OF poetry to
the wearer; whilst to see them worn by
matron about to enter into the sere and
yellow leaf period, looks like the ripe
months of September or October wearing
the livery of spring. They seem more
in keeping even on the silvery locks of
old age; for an early primrose may bios
som on the brow of winter. But to our
story.
The laird of certain Highland es-
tate, which we will call Achaneilean, was
y
trained by very wise, although doting
mother. Sir Malcolm was a fine, high
spirited young man, who gave her the
very highest satisfaction in all things, ex-
cepting in the wandering habits he had
early formed. He would often dress
himself in the strangest disguises and
mingle with his tenants, taking leading
share in their games and pastimes.
His mother, knowing his high and hon
orable nature, was never afraid of his
doing anything wrong, at such times,
but she thonght his conduct undignified; /;
so, as she could not win him from this
strange habit, she tried to influence him
to get married. With this object in view
she gathered around her, both in Lon
don and at home, all the young ladies
she most admired; both her efforts
seemed in vain. Sir Malcolm was
courteous and attentive to all her guests,
but he was still fancy free; and she loved
him too tenderly to wish to see him
married without sincere attachment.
She knew the requirements of his nature,
and understood, therefore, that a love-
less marriage would only drive his far
ther into the wandering habits from
which she wished him to be weaned.
When Sir Malcolm was in his twenty
fifth year, he went to a distant part OF his
estate, which he had never visited before;
and, hearing there was to be wedding,
he went to it in disguise as a minstrel.
He wore tattered old tartan coat, and
carried his fiddle over his shoulder in
green baize bag, whilst his fair skin
was stained to appear like gypsy's.
1t was toward the latter end of spring
"a clear, beautiful afternoon-and by
the riverside the young people were
Ill IL HIT
haired man, with palsied hand, was try
ing his best to give them music.
The young man drew near, and, bow
ing to the company, he drew his old
bonnet over his brow, and began to
play.
The dancers were delighted, for they
had never listened to such strains before;
and the old fiddler, trem bling for fear of
losing the reward he expected, went to
he young minstrel in the first pause of
music, and proposed that whatever was
paid to either of them should be equally
divided with the other. The young man
laughingly assented, and when the best
man came to offer him glass of some
thing to drink, he refused it; but said,
s as it was getting cold, if the old man
would play tune, hab would be glad to
be allowed to dance areel.
minstrel asked for his partner a pretty,
gray-eyed, modest-looking maiden, whose
graceful movements he had watched in
the dance. She readily gave him her
hand, and such dancing was seldom seen
by those present. When he led her back
to her friends, he offered her few prim-
roses from small bouquet he had gath
cred from the riverside, and turning to
another fair girl, he offered her the re-
mainder of the flowers, and begged her
hand for the next dance. She tossed he1
head Indignantly, and her looks said
plainly
ssDo you think would dance with a
gypsy?" she broke them and cast them
away, saying
81 don't care for flowers, and I'm not
going to dance with you, thank you
The young man turned away, hastily,
and the maiden who had danced with him
said to her naughty companion
Chow could you wound the young
mans feelings so? What harm could it
do YOU to dance with him? And oh! the
dear primroses; the first have seen this
year. See! you have broken them;" and
Jessie bowed down and gathered the
scattered flowers, and carefully placing
them among those given herself, fixed
them in her belt.
.sHow could you, rather, dance with a
fellow like that likely one of the gang
of tinkers that passed yesterday? And
will you really wear the flowers he gave?"
continued the maiden, with an exceed
ingly scornful sneer.
II wear the flowers for their own
sakes. How could you break them-the
beauties?" replied Jessie, caressing the
bouquet with tender touch. Gas for
dancing with the young man, am sure
am quite ready to do it again, were it
only for his delightful music"
Margaret drew herself away in digni-
fed silence. She was quite horrified at
the conduct of Jessie; and the young
man. who was lowering near, and watch
ing the maidens, again offered his hand
to Jessie; and, anxious to heal the wound
her companion had given, she danced
with him gladly.