Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1879-10-16
THE POT-POURRI.

1t was just after the roses had don
blowing. They were all sitting by twi
light in the yellow drawing-rOom-
somehow it always seemed twilight Their
when it was dark everywhere else-anc
Rosamond got up and stirred her pot
pourri in the old claret-colored Chelse,
jar between the windows; and such ,
sweet, faint odor of rose leaves stol,
through the room that the old peopl,
felt as if they too were young snd the
time was June again.
at is too powerful" said Miss Effing
ham, waving her big peacock-feather fan
Too powerful?" said Mrs. Penn
putting away the silver curl that the
neiehboring fan brushed into her soft
brown eyes. Not for me. Nothing is
- pleasant to me as the pot-pourri, and
in the old jar, too. 1t is not the rose,
but it is the memory of the rose. 1t
brings back all my youth. And although
age is pleasant enough as it comes to me,
yet youth was 30 very sweet-so very
sweet, my DEAR" and the silver voice
paused, while slender hand went
searching through the purple gloom for
another hand, and found 1.-THE hand
OF the speakers husband. "People
think it so sad to grow old" she said.
But every year has been to me like
another step to an upward path to para
disc. Ones wings are growing all the
way. And one has so much to remem-
Der, to look on when one pauses, to see
in new lights Do you suppose that
either of us would change places with
Bosamond and Bertram there, who have
life before them?"
NotI, }" said the voice that responded
Not that you would not be glad to
live your summers over again, Paulw
!" am sure of them now, at any rate, !"
said the husband. 81 have them.
Nothing can take them from u.s."
And we ask nothing MORE" she said,
than to be laid in one grave when the
long night comes"
"And the endless morning." he MUIR
INJURED.
and even the endless mornings can
hardly be brighter than some of the
mornings of our youth--than the morn.
ing when we first made the pot pourri
Paul. You rememto Or that aorning,
Faulw
Do you remember it, Aunt Pprsls?''
asked Rosamond.
shall | ever forget it?" she said,
with low sweet laugh. "Why, when
| am dead remembrance of that morning
will bloom out of my grave like flower
And yet it was much such morning as
any day last month-only 80 glorious, SC
gilded, so full of sunshine! But what q
gray and lowering, showerins dawn il
hadl If we had never had that little
quarrel, PAUL. All, was 80 sad when
parted the curtains that daybreak.
thought | was done with my life-snd i,
was PITY so young"
Here Rosamond piuched Bertram's
arm.
So young. And might have been
blessed" said her old Aunt Persis. of
! gave that morning, just the swiftest
glance across the garden to Psups win
dow, and saw that he sat there over his
book, he could not tell. And then
dressed me; and | thought of some
young girl being dressed in her grave
And then pinned on my white frock-
Ia iGuettse, you call it now, Rosamond
and went down to the rose garden tc
pick the flowers with the dew on them
for the pot-pourri that grandmsmms
had hidden me never to forget in the
time of roses"
"'l Ii was the time of roses
We pluesed them as went"
sang Bertram, half under his breath.
And plucked them till my baske
on my arm was heaped. The rose gar
den WAS just as it is to-day, on terrsc,
higher than the rest of the garden An,
when | turned about | saw Paul hst
come down, and was walking in tn,
poplar alley of his grandfather garden
bare .headed, with his hands behind him
and his head fallen on his breast. All
how beautiful he was! SO tall, so dark, 81